As park and garden space expanded, middle-class fleuristes needed shears, watering cans, and umbrellas topped with pruning shears.
So gardeners in billowing dresses and slippery gloves reached for contraptions such as the Dubois Parasol Pruner. Mechanically, it was straightforward. “I close my umbrella to pick flowers and fruit,” reads an 1886 advertisement. The umbrella’s handle was an elegant extension for one’s reach—a dainty, fin de siècle version of the claw you might use to nab a roll of toilet paper perched high on a grocery shelf. A little pair of shears, affixed to the top of a silk or satin sunshade, could be used to snip anything the gardener’s hands couldn’t quite get to. Without straying from the path, where her shoes and hems were relatively safe, she could build her bouquet.
