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Plants

Gardening : Dressing Up Household Plant Pots

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THE BALTIMORE SUN

The boom in house plants has led to a minor industry in this country: beautiful, unusual and very expensive plant pots. If you find that term a little crude, go for the French cachepot--literally, “hide-the-pot.” The canny and civilized French have known for a long time that a spectacular display can be made of an ordinary plant, just as a spectacular fashion statement can be made by women who choose the right accessories.

The factories of Limoges, the splendors of Meissen, porcelain and majolica, pedestals and etageres of curious design have all been adapted to the service of the green things that form our indoor winter gardens.

Take, for example, the mother-in-law’s-tongue, that plant with the tall, sword-shaped green leaves. It is almost impossible to kill unless you overwater it, and it isn’t too fussy about bright light. But you see one in every dentist’s office, usually stuck in an ordinary plastic pot in the corner, uncomplaining. Too pedestrian, you say, for the ultradeco decor of your pied-a-terre ?

But suppose you give that plain plant, in effect, a trip to Balenciaga? Suppose you set it off with a Chinese fishbowl on a carved wood stand? Or a smoked-glass Deco mirrored pedestal? Suddenly, the gangly, uncomplaining dentist-office plant becomes a star. It is all in knowing how to dress it.

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Of course, you may be unwilling to allot $200 to $500 of your decorating budget to a Chinese fishbowl, or $75 for a mirrored pedestal plus pot. However, with a little ingenuity, you can do some spectacular homemade substitutes for haute plant couture.

Look through the various catalogues of plant dress for ideas. Gardener’s Eden, and Smith and Hawken catalogues are a veritable trove of such odd items as urn and trough planters--both about $36, of “molded high-density polyurethane.” You’ll also find French trelliswork, “weather-resistant fir, painted dark green,” about $150 to $425 the set. Fiberglass reproductions of English planter boxes range from $175 for a large “Sloan” to $225 for a large “Windsor.” “Large” in this context means anything from about 20 inches square by 15 inches high, to 36 inches by 9 inches by 9 inches. And, of course, terra-cotta pots “handmade in Impruneta, a small village in Tuscany”--$29 for an 8-inch square.

Keep those prices in mind as you stroll through the department store. But what is this? A classical plastic urn for under $12? Lathing strips waiting to be made into trellis for about $3 for a 10-foot strip? Ready-made spindles; wooden finials; chair, stool and table legs, which, with the attachment of wooden sides, can become 15-inch Windsor-style planters for considerably less than $225? Plastic “Tuscan” pots for a fraction of the price of the heavy, breakable Real Things? Right.

So “What’s the dif?” as Cornelia Otis Skinner used to say.

Well, there’s a lot of difference. Quality of materials, for one. Thin white plastic instead of high-density polyurethane means the item may shatter in cold weather or under the stress of too much weight. Whether you do it yourself or have someone do it for you, as in the case of tediously painting lathe strips for a trompe l’oeil effect on your apartment wall. Completely different ways of watering plants in clay as opposed to plastic pots. And a walloping difference in price.

That white plastic urn, for example, properly weighted by pouring plaster of Paris into the base and gluing a foot of felt over it, texturing it with spatter and marbling, and using it for a flamboyant winter display of amaryllis and cyclamen, can become a real show-stopper. And you can spend the money on the plants instead of on the urn.

Those lathing strips, glued in a simple asymmetrical pattern, painted with a color complementary to your decor and bound with satin ribbon strips, can become the trompe l’oeil fence your philodendron has always longed for.

Those plastic “terra-cotta” pots--do you long to have lion heads, or fancy handles on them? Fine. Look through the bathroom fixtures: You’ll find lion and geometric ring-holders, intended for towels, that will handsomely dress those plain Tuscan pots. Will they be functional, for pulling the pot around? No. Is the point of the pot to be decorative? Yes.

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Finally, those homely plastic pots in the many awful plastic shades--usually white, a milky blue, kelly green, chocolate brown, and a rather nauseating pink. They work so well for indoor plants! And they are so ugly!

But what about painting a delft pattern on the white? An American folk art design on the milky blue? Cover the kelly with glued-on marble or special papers from the museum shops, and seal them with clear acrylic sealer. Cut patterns for the chocolate from marbled or metallic contact-stick paper. And even the pink can be redeemed by a Southwest desert sunrise, or by gluing bright plastic grasshoppers on as “handles.”

You say you have no artistic ability? You don’t really need it: You can often cut patterns right out of wallpaper sample books, trace them on adhesive paper and put them on the pots.

Walk through a fabric store, and you’ll find everything from polished chintz in 18th-Century glory to faux marble, faux leopard and faux graffiti. A quarter of a yard of designer cloth is enough to applique a band of eccentricity to the most pedestrian pot. Glue it on with a glue gun. Never mind if it gets wet when you water the plant; it’s fabric, it will dry.

Can you paint, but not draw? Why not photocopy a pattern you like and trace it onto adhesive plastic with a permanent marker. Paint it by the numbers. Is the pattern right, but the size wrong? Use the copier to enlarge the skyline of Manhattan from a ‘40s photo, or to reduce a Vintage Chiquita Banana to manageable kitsch-for-the-cachepot.

As the last resort, simply get a pint of specially mixed paint in a distinctive, deep color, and paint all the orphan pots in your room. Voila ! An instant coordinated, decorator look for a fraction of the cost of specially commissioned pots.

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Remember, a cachepot is, by its nature, not the functional plant holder. It’s the facade-pot, the superstructure, the Sunday-go-to-meeting shell on a mundane Monday pot. Be as elaborate as you like, and when the plant outgrows it, you can put another in its place.

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