Me? I gotta say I HATE those centerpieces. They’re impossible to converse around. I might have a fighting chance, but then I’m pretty short. I can duck under the branches on a lot of them. But Mr. Twistie is tall. And these things often branch out in width, as well as in height. My poor beloved finds himself spitting out ivy and rose petals every time he opens his mouth, or in grave danger of his moustache catching fire if there are candles involved.
I know where the concept came from. It came from Victorian dinner party extravaganzas. Those tables often featured huge, florid arrangements of flowers in massive silver, glass, or ceramic display pieces. Guests would enter the hall, ooh and aah over the centerpieces as they found their seats, and tell the people sitting on either side how impressive they were.
Then – and this is the bit most people don’t know anymore – the servants (usually the footmen) would come and remove the centerpieces from the table so that conversation was possible.
Any rebuttals? Additions to my chorus?