As florists report a surge in self-gifted arrangements, a quiet revolution is reshaping the holiday of romance
When Maya Rodriguez’s doorbell rang on February 13th last year, her roommates squealed with excitement. “Someone’s got an admirer!” they called out, rushing to see the delivery. Maya accepted the lavish bouquet of pink peonies and ranunculus with a smile, letting them coo over the arrangement before retreating to her room. What her roommates didn’t know was that Maya had ordered the flowers herself—not out of loneliness, but out of love. Self-love.
“I saw no reason why I should wait for someone else to buy me the flowers I wanted,” says the 29-year-old graphic designer from Austin. “I know exactly what I like, and honestly, the flowers meant more to me because I chose them myself.”
Maya is part of a growing trend that’s quietly transforming Valentine’s Day from a couples-only affair into something more nuanced and, some would argue, more honest. According to data from major floral delivery services, self-purchased Valentine’s Day flowers have increased by 35% over the past three years, with women accounting for approximately 80% of these orders. What was once a secret indulgence has become a small act of rebellion against the traditional narratives surrounding February 14th.
The Evolution of Self-Gifting
The phenomenon isn’t entirely new. Florists have long known about customers who buy flowers for themselves, but the practice was typically shrouded in discretion. Women would request deliveries to their offices with vague card messages, or they’d pick up arrangements at shops across town. The unspoken rule was simple: don’t let anyone know you bought them yourself.
But something has shifted in recent years. Social media has played a role, with influencers and celebrities openly posting about their self-gifted bouquets. More significantly, cultural conversations around self-care, independence, and the rejection of relationship milestones as markers of success have given women permission to rewrite the Valentine’s Day script.
“We’ve seen a complete transformation in how customers approach these purchases,” says Jennifer Liu, owner of Petal & Stem, a boutique flower shop in San Francisco. “Five years ago, women who bought flowers for themselves would be almost apologetic about it. Now they walk in with confidence, often showing me Pinterest boards of exactly what they want. There’s no shame anymore—in fact, there’s pride.”
Liu estimates that self-purchases now represent nearly 15% of her Valentine’s Day sales, up from less than 5% a decade ago. The orders tend to be more elaborate and personalized than traditional partner-sent arrangements. “These women are treating themselves the way they want to be treated,” she notes. “They’re not settling for a dozen red roses because that’s what’s expected.”
The Social Performance
Yet not all self-gifted flowers are acts of pure self-love. For some women, the motivation is more complex, rooted in social expectations and the pressure to appear romantically successful.
Dr. Amanda Whitehurst, a sociologist at Columbia University who studies relationship trends and social performance, explains that Valentine’s Day carries intense social weight, particularly for young women. “There’s still a tremendous amount of cultural pressure around Valentine’s Day, especially in workplace and social settings,” she says. “Being visibly single on Valentine’s Day can feel like a public announcement of failure, even though intellectually we know that’s absurd.”
This pressure manifests in various ways. Office deliveries create public spectacles—someone receives flowers, colleagues gather around, questions are asked. Social media feeds fill with gift photos and romantic declarations. Family group chats buzz with questions about plans. For women who are single—whether by choice or circumstance—the day can feel less like a celebration and more like an interrogation.
“I ordered flowers to be delivered to my desk at work,” admits Claire Thompson, a 32-year-old marketing executive in Chicago, who asked that her real name not be used. “I was the only single woman on my team, and last year everyone made such a big deal about my not receiving anything. The comments were subtle but they stung—’Oh, maybe next year,’ or ‘Don’t worry, he’s out there somewhere.’ This year, I just wanted to avoid the conversation entirely.”
Claire’s flowers came with a card that read simply, “Thinking of you.” When coworkers asked, she smiled and changed the subject, allowing them to draw their own conclusions. “Does it feel dishonest? Maybe a little,” she admits. “But it also feels like a small act of self-protection. I’m happy with my life. I don’t need their pity.”
The Psychology of Pretense
The practice of sending oneself flowers to create the illusion of a romantic partner raises questions about authenticity and social performance. Some critics view it as a troubling symptom of societal pressure, while others see it as a harmless work-around to invasive questioning.
Dr. Whitehurst falls somewhere in the middle. “On one hand, it’s concerning that women feel they need to perform being in a relationship to avoid judgment or unwanted commentary,” she says. “On the other hand, we all perform aspects of our lives constantly. We curate our social media, dress for the image we want to project, and navigate social expectations all the time. This is just another form of that negotiation.”
She points out that the practice also highlights the persistent stigma around being single, particularly for women. “Men don’t face the same level of scrutiny or pity around Valentine’s Day,” Dr. Whitehurst notes. “There’s still this underlying cultural narrative that a woman without a romantic partner is somehow incomplete or pitiable. Until we challenge that narrative more fundamentally, women will continue to find ways to protect themselves from it.”
For some women, the flowers serve as a temporary shield against well-meaning but exhausting conversations with family members. Rachel Kim, a 27-year-old teacher in Seattle, posts photos of flowers on social media each Valentine’s Day—flowers she sends herself—knowing her mother and aunts will see them and leave her alone.
“My mom has been asking about my dating life constantly since I turned 25,” Rachel explains. “Valentine’s Day always triggers a whole interrogation—am I seeing anyone, have I tried dating apps, do I want her to set me up with someone. Posting a photo of flowers just… satisfies her curiosity enough that I can have a peaceful day.”
Reclaiming the Holiday
But the trend isn’t only about avoiding judgment. For many women, self-gifted flowers represent something more positive: a reclamation of a holiday that has historically centered male desire and initiative.
“I send myself flowers because I deserve beautiful things, and I don’t need a partner to give them to me,” says Simone Baptiste, a 35-year-old attorney in Atlanta. “It’s not about pretending someone sent them. My colleagues know I bought them. I post about it on Instagram. For me, it’s about rejecting the idea that my worth or my ability to enjoy Valentine’s Day depends on someone else’s affection.”
Baptiste started the practice five years ago after ending a long-term relationship. “The first Valentine’s Day after my breakup, I felt sorry for myself,” she recalls. “But then I thought, why? I can buy myself flowers. I can take myself to a nice dinner. I don’t need to wait for someone to do these things for me.” She’s continued the tradition even now that she’s dating someone new. “My partner sends me flowers too, but I still send myself flowers because it reminds me that I’m complete on my own.”
This philosophy echoes a broader cultural shift toward self-care and self-prioritization that has gained momentum in recent years. The wellness industry has increasingly promoted the idea of treating oneself with the same care and attention one might lavish on a romantic partner. Self-gifted flowers fit neatly into this framework—a visible, tangible act of self-appreciation.
Flower delivery services have taken notice. Several companies now market directly to this demographic with messaging around self-love and independence. Bouqs Co., an online flower delivery service, launched a “Treat Yourself” campaign last Valentine’s Day that explicitly encouraged self-gifting. The company reported that campaigns focused on self-love generated 28% more engagement than traditional romantic messaging.
“We realized we were leaving a significant market segment underserved,” says Marcus Wong, Bouqs Co.’s chief marketing officer. “There are millions of women who want to participate in Valentine’s Day traditions but don’t have or don’t want a romantic partner. We wanted to create messaging that spoke to them directly, without any undertone of pity or consolation.”
The Economic Angle
The floral industry’s embrace of self-gifting isn’t purely altruistic—there’s significant economic incentive. The traditional Valentine’s Day market has been relatively flat in recent years, with younger generations showing less interest in conventional romantic gestures. Self-gifting represents a way to expand the customer base and increase sales.
“From a business perspective, self-purchasers are ideal customers,” explains retail analyst David Chen. “They tend to be more discerning, they often spend more money on arrangements, and they’re likely to become repeat customers throughout the year, not just on Valentine’s Day. The industry would be foolish not to cultivate this market.”
The average self-purchased Valentine’s Day bouquet costs approximately $75, compared to $62 for partner-purchased arrangements, according to industry data. Self-purchasers also tend to add more customizations and special requests.
Liu, the San Francisco florist, has observed this firsthand. “The women buying flowers for themselves often have specific visions,” she says. “They’ll specify exact flower types, colors, vase styles. They’re not just buying a generic bouquet—they’re creating something that has personal meaning to them.”
Changing the Narrative
As the practice becomes more visible and accepted, it’s beginning to reshape conversations around Valentine’s Day more broadly. Several women interviewed for this article noted that their self-gifted flowers have sparked discussions about relationship status, societal expectations, and the pressure to couple up.
“When I posted a photo of the flowers I bought myself on Instagram, I expected some jokes or comments about being single,” says Teresa Valdez, a 41-year-old consultant in Miami. “Instead, I got dozens of messages from other women thanking me for normalizing self-gifting. Several said they’d been doing the same thing secretly for years but felt embarrassed about it. The response made me realize how many of us have been performing these little deceptions to fit into expected narratives.”
The conversation has also extended to questioning why Valentine’s Day remains so rigidly focused on romantic love when other forms of love—friendship, family, self-love—are equally valid and worthy of celebration. Some women now send flowers not just to themselves but to friends, mothers, or daughters, deliberately expanding the holiday beyond its traditional romantic confines.
“I send flowers to my best friend every Valentine’s Day now,” says Baptiste. “She’s in a happy relationship, but I want her to know that her friendship is just as valuable and worth celebrating as her romance. The first year I did it, she was so touched she cried.”
The Critics’ Perspective
Not everyone views the trend positively. Some relationship counselors and social commentators worry that self-gifted flowers—particularly when used to create the illusion of a romantic partner—might prevent women from addressing deeper issues around relationship expectations and self-worth.
“There’s something troubling about feeling you need to deceive others about your relationship status,” says Dr. Robert Martinez, a relationship therapist in New York. “It suggests that being single is something to hide or be ashamed of. I worry that these coping mechanisms, while understandable, might prevent us from having more honest conversations about relationship pressure and the value of being single.”
Others argue that the focus on self-gifting still centers the holiday around consumption and material gestures, when perhaps the more radical choice would be to opt out entirely or to reimagine the holiday in more fundamental ways.
“Buying yourself flowers is still participating in the commercial machinery of Valentine’s Day,” argues Dr. Hannah Greene, a cultural critic and author. “It’s a small rebellion, perhaps, but it doesn’t challenge the underlying premise that we need grand romantic gestures to mark this day. Why not spend the day volunteering, or creating art, or doing something that genuinely nurtures you in a deeper way?”
These critiques raise valid questions about the limits of consumer-based empowerment and whether self-gifting truly challenges social norms or simply provides a temporary workaround.
Looking Forward
Despite these concerns, the trend shows no signs of slowing. If anything, the practice seems to be expanding beyond Valentine’s Day to other traditionally couple-centric occasions. Florists report increases in self-purchased arrangements around anniversaries (of personal milestones rather than romantic ones) and even some women buying themselves flowers on what they jokingly call their “anti-versaries”—marking the anniversary of a breakup or divorce as a celebration of independence.
“I think we’re witnessing a broader cultural shift in how women view themselves in relation to romantic relationships,” Dr. Whitehurst reflects. “For so long, romantic partnership has been positioned as the ultimate marker of a woman’s success and value. These self-gifted flowers, whether they’re acts of genuine self-love or protective performances, represent a pushback against that narrative. They’re saying, ‘My life has value regardless of my relationship status.’”
As for Maya Rodriguez, who started this story with her peonies and ranunculus, she’s already ordered her flowers for this Valentine’s Day—a more elaborate arrangement than last year’s, featuring garden roses, sweet peas, and lily of the valley. When asked if she’ll ever stop the tradition, even if she enters a romantic relationship, she doesn’t hesitate.
“Why would I stop?” she asks. “These flowers are between me and myself. They’re a promise I make to myself every year that I won’t wait for someone else to give me the things I want or make me feel valued. That’s a promise I intend to keep.”
Whether viewed as empowering self-care or a symptom of persistent social pressures, the bouquets arriving at doorsteps this Valentine’s Day will tell a more complex story than their romantic predecessors. In the end, perhaps that’s what makes them beautiful—not their appearance, but what they represent about women’s evolving relationship with themselves, with societal expectations, and with the very notion of what it means to be loved.