There it was, staring at me from its pristine box like some aquatic beauty queen who'd taken a wrong turn at evolution and ended up in ceramics. The folks at Chive had managed to capture the essence of sea coral in their wall-mounted flower, though calling it a flower feels like calling the Palace of Versailles a summer cottage. It's the kind of piece that makes your other wall decorations feel hopelessly inadequate, like bringing a grocery store cake to a French patisserie. I'd spent years arranging my living room with the calculated precision of a museum curator with OCD, but something was always missing. That something, apparently, was a massive teal ceramic flower that looked like it had defected from Atlantis. The piece came with a keyhole mount, which I found charmingly practical – like finding out your unicorn knows how to parallel park. For a decade, Chive has been turning out these botanical wall art sculptures, each one nestled in packaging that suggests they've attended better schools than I have. There's something deeply satisfying about hanging art that makes guests ask, "Is that from the ocean?" to which I can reply, "No, it's actually ceramic, but I love that you thought a mermaid might have dropped it off personally."