What I Learned Taking Over My Parents' Flower Shop at 22

I was 22 and freshly out of National Service when my parents handed me the keys to their flower shop at Loyang Point in Pasir Ris. The shop had been there since 1997 — my mum behind the counter arranging roses and statice in coloured rice paper, my dad handling deliveries. Annual turnover sat around $50,000 to $60,000, with single-digit sales on a good day. I had no business degree, no driving licence, and roughly zero understanding of what I was getting into. I pumped in every dollar I had saved and got to work.

That was November 2014. Eleven years later, Windflower Florist has delivered over 200,000 bouquets across Singapore, been featured in CNA, AsiaOne, and Her World, and carries a 4.8-star Google rating from nearly 1,500 reviews. This is what I learned along the way.

Everything I Know About Flowers, I Learned From My Mother

My mum is the original Windflower florist. I grew up watching her trim stems at the Loyang Point shop — her hands always stained green from foliage, calluses on her fingers from years of wire work. She never studied floristry formally, but she could look at a bucket of roses and tell you within seconds which stems had another three days in them and which wouldn't last the night.

That instinct is something you can't learn from a course. It shaped how I approach every arrangement today: start with what the flowers tell you, not what the catalogue says. Our Daily Surprise ($66) exists because of this philosophy — our florists pick the freshest blooms each morning and arrange whatever inspires them.

The Renovation That Changed Everything

When I took over, the shop looked like every other neighbourhood florist in Singapore: glass display cooler, coloured rice paper, the standard combination of roses, baby's breath, and statice. I knew we had to change if we wanted to survive.

I spent my savings renovating the shop and switched to a Westernised aesthetic — brown kraft paper, cotton wrapping, unconventional bloom combinations that nobody in the area was doing. The neighbours in the mall questioned my parents' decision. Why didn't they push their son toward university instead? That criticism became fuel.

The first real test came on Valentine's Day. Before the revamp, we'd do about $8,000 in Valentine's Day revenue. After? $30,000. That single week told me the bet was right. Customers in Singapore were ready for something different — they just didn't have anywhere to find it.

The $10 Bouquet That Taught Me Pricing Is Emotional

Early on, during a stretch where I was feeling down and questioning everything, I arranged a pot of withering flowers — blooms that were past their prime but still had character. I listed it online for $10 with a note: "If you resonate with this piece, it's yours."

Someone bought it within hours.

That taught me something I still carry: people don't just buy flowers for how they look. They buy them for how they feel. A Resilience bouquet ($52) isn't our most expensive arrangement, but it's one of the most requested — because customers connect with what it represents.

6am McDonald's Breakfast and a Bouquet to Sembawang

In the early days, I didn't have a driving licence. One morning, a customer needed a delivery to Sembawang — the opposite end of Singapore from our Pasir Ris shop. I woke up at 6am, bought McDonald's breakfast on the way, and took the bouquet across the island by public transport. Pasir Ris to Sembawang and back. Four hours, door to door.

I don't tell this story to romanticise hustle. I tell it because it's the reality of building a delivery florist from scratch in Singapore. Today, we offer free same-day delivery across the entire island — every HDB estate, every condo lobby, every office building. We got there by doing it the hard way first.

What I Sacrificed

Building Windflower cost me friendships and relationships. When you're working 14-hour days — sourcing at 4am, arranging until the last delivery goes out, then answering messages until midnight — you miss birthdays, dinners, weekends. People stop inviting you because they already know the answer.

My parents were "both delighted and exhausted" as orders surged. They'd built a quiet neighbourhood business; now it was turning into something much larger than any of us planned. Within three years of the takeover, annual turnover hit $1 million. By 2025, we reached $2.5 million.

I don't regret any of it. But I want to be honest: there's a cost. "Retail is not a race, but a marathon" is something I say often, and I mean it literally.

What the Press Got Right (and What They Missed)

CNA featured us in 2016 with the headline "Blooming with the times" — I was 24 then, two years into the takeover. VulcanPost followed in 2017, calling us one of the "S'pore Millennials Who Injected Life Into Family Brands." By then, orders had surged 1,000%. In 2022, AsiaOne ran a piece with the quote I'm still known for: "I'm the wingman of all men in Singapore." And in 2023, Her World did a full profile: "He's a second-generation florist who built a million dollar business."

What the press pieces captured was the growth story. What they often missed was the craft itself — that I'm a florist before I'm a business owner. "I love flowers before I love the numbers," I told Her World. That's still true. Every Marigold ($142) or Golden Grace ($153) that leaves our studio reflects decisions made by someone who genuinely cares about which stem goes where.

What I'd Tell Someone Taking Over a Family Business

Don't copy what your parents did and don't throw it all away either. My mum's eye for which flowers have life left in them still shapes our sourcing. My dad's delivery discipline is baked into our logistics. But the kraft paper, the Instagram presence, the online-first model — those were mine to build.

The neighbours who questioned my parents' decision — some of them order from us now. Not because I proved them wrong, but because the product speaks for itself.

Not sure which bouquet to choose? Try Windy, our AI florist — tell Windy your occasion and budget, and get matched with the perfect arrangement in seconds.