Gnomes return to chelsea: a royal garden revival?
The Royal Horticultural Society’s Chelsea Flower Show is known for its breathtaking displays of horticultural artistry, its legions of Pimm’s-sipping attendees, and, until recently, a rather staunch prohibition. This year, however, the show’s venerable traditions have been playfully disrupted by the return of a long-banned fixture: the garden gnome.
A century of exclusion, briefly lifted
For nearly a century, since 1927, these miniature mythical creatures were persona non grata at Chelsea. The official reason? A rule forbidding “statuary or other sundries” within the exhibit tents. A brief reprieve occurred in 2013 for the RHS Chelsea centenary, but the ban largely held firm. Now, in a fundraising initiative supporting the RHS’s school Gardening campaign, a cohort of celebrity-painted gnomes has emerged, sparking a delightful frenzy.
The auction, which concludes this Sunday, May 24th, features gnomes adorned by luminaries such as Cate Blanchett, Dame Mary Berry, and Sir Brian May. Bidding has already reached impressive heights: Berry’s gnome currently sits at $900, May’s at $3,000, and Blanchett’s a striking $4,000. Blanchett’s gnome, in particular, is proving a popular subject, captured enjoying a classic Pimm’s and posing alongside the newly debuted Kate Moss rose, a creation from Norfolk-based Peter Beales Roses.
“We want people to be playful with their gardening,” explained RHS director general Clare Matterson, seemingly embracing the whimsical rebellion. Comedian Bill Bailey, also a gnome artist, offered a historical perspective, noting that the name “gnome” derives from the Latin gnomus, meaning “earth dweller.” He added, with a touch of irony, “The Romans had them as guardians of the garden, and to protect against malign spirits. So I think they have been much maligned.” The irony, of course, is not lost on those familiar with Highgrove, the King’s private residence, where gnomes reportedly populate the gardens—and one particularly elusive figurine is rumored to relocate itself mysteriously.
Beyond the gnome spectacle, Chelsea was a riot of floral innovation. The free flower festival, themed “Out of this World,” showcased a burnt orange ranunculus Saturn, a four-meter floral dragon, and a Pegasus, alongside an opulent rose display framing the Cartier store. Within the Flower Show itself, Sarah Eberle’s garden for the Campaign to Protect Rural England, a poignant commentary on rural preservation, secured the coveted “best in show” award.
Amidst the grandeur, a subtle nod to Highgrove’s enigmatic gnome appeared: a nameless figure with gray bangs and a fly agaric cap, cleverly concealed within the foliage. Elsewhere, diminutive gnomes perched on shrubs, and a queue formed for a larger, intricately carved wooden specimen. Even Sir David Beckham and King Charles III have contributed to the gnome cause, their painted creations also vying for auction bids.
As I finished my final Pimm’s, I noticed several gnomes were already missing from their display cabinet—presumably embarking on their own press tours, eager to capitalize on the Chelsea buzz. After all, who knows when these diminutive guardians of the garden will be welcomed back with such fanfare? The brief return of the gnome isn't just a quirky fundraising stunt; it's a reminder that even the most established traditions can benefit from a touch of playful subversion.