Zinnias & Vintage Pots: A Love Letter to Blooms, Rust, and Questionable Taste

There’s something magical about zinnias. Maybe it’s their unapologetic colors—coral, fuchsia, tangerine—or maybe it’s just the fact that they’ll bloom for you even if you forget to water them more often than you'd like to admit.

 

Zinnias don’t need much. A patch of soil, some sun, and a bit of benign neglect. They thrive in heat and don’t care if you forgot to buy fancy fertilizer. They are, without a doubt, the people-pleasers of the flower world. Every year I say, This time I’m just doing herbs, and yet the zinnia seeds sneak into my cart like a kid in the cereal aisle.

But here’s the thing: growing zinnias is only half the fun. The real joy? Finding just the right vintage pot to plop them in.

I'm not talking about sleek, trendy ceramic planters that match your minimalist aesthetic. No, I mean those heavy, chipped McCoy pots from someone’s great-aunt’s porch. The ones that may or may not contain traces of 1960s cigarette ash. The ones that make you ask, “Is this patina or just dirt?” and then decide it doesn’t matter.

I haunt flea markets, estate sales, and the dark corners of thrift shops in search of these forgotten gems. I’ve developed a sixth sense for spotting something gloriously ugly-beautiful. A mustard yellow urn with a crack up the side? Perfect. A pink planter shaped like a swan? I’ll take two.

Displaying zinnias in these found vessels turns them into little works of art—flowers in conversation with the past. There’s something sweet about a fresh bloom lounging in a pot that once held plastic ivy in a dentist’s office waiting room.

And I’ll admit: sometimes people come over and say, “What is that?” with a mixture of concern and fascination. I just smile and say, “Oh, that? That’s vintage,” which is basically a free pass to be as weird as I want with my decor.

In the end, growing zinnias and collecting vintage pots is really about joy. A low-stakes, high-reward kind of happiness. Dirt under your nails, a bloom in your hand, and a pot that looks like it came from your grandma’s basement (because it probably did).

So plant the zinnias. Collect the pots. Embrace the nostalgia, the kitsch, the color, and the chaos. And if anyone asks why you have a bouquet in a ceramic donkey, just tell them it’s aesthetic. They’ll nod like they get it. They don’t—but you do.