Au Rêve Fleuri

Madame Aubrée has been a fixture of Barfleur since 1975.

Small and dark, with twinkling brown eyes, her little shop on the Rue St. Thomas Becket, crammed full of greenery and bursting with life, is always busy.

For the metropolitan visitor, Mme Aubrée's displays may seem a little traditional.  

But she knows her clientèle well.

Yes, gay tubs of roses, chrysanthemums, and azaleas are prominently displayed; Barfleur, in common with small towns and villages across Western Europe, has an aging population with tastes to match. And a living must be made.

Yet look a little deeper into the foliage and real treasures can be found; exotics and succulents in all shapes and sizes - perfect in one of the gorgeous planters to be found in the Gallerie St Thomas just across the street. 

Her prices, while a little more expensive than the supermarkets, are worth paying for the quality of the blooms and the attentiveness of her service; she recently sourced a vintage macramé  pot hanger just for me when I casually mentioned that a plant I'd purchased would look great in one.

And it's vitally important that independents like Mme Aubrée remain in Barfleur.  For who else would supply the visitors to the retirement home a little way along Rue St Thomas? 

The quality of her offerings is superb.  She tells me that her watering regime takes the best part of a morning every week - every specimen's needs carefully attended to; leaves polished, positions changed to suit the light, sickly plants moved to a more congenial location like ailing patients.  

She can order any plant you care to mention; her supplier is by reputation equally choosy, ensuring that a plant meeting your exact specification is brought from Holland via Paris to Rue Thomas Becket and your window sill.

And roses and chrysanthemums notwithstanding, if you discuss your needs with her, she'll make sure to prepare a bouquet for you that's every bit as lovely as you'd find in Paris or London. 

Passers-by are often startled in summer by the whistle of a parrot emanating from the shop; it's a trick (the parrot is not real), but Mme Aubrée does keep birds, around a dozen of them, as gaudy as the displays of flowers, and hungry for the attention of customers. 

She tells me that she often sits in the quiet stillness of the store and watches their domestic rituals; the male paying court to the females, and enduring their noisy harassment.  

Polly's always watching