Camellia Conundrum

A few years ago, I spent my birthday in the Chanel flagship store in Paris. My mother offered to buy me a Chanel camellia pin for the occasion as my one and only present. I am not stupid. I mean, this was beyond going halvsies, which is what I usually try to pull. I said yes immediately. So, for a truly obscene amount of money that would cause my father nothing less than cardiac arrest, I acquired a classic, beautifully-made accessory that would last me a lifetime. Until I forgot to take it off a top and discovered sad little petals as I was folding my laundry. RIP, darling:
Photobucket
My mom bought me another camellia last Christmas as my one and only present. Please keep in mind that my mother is my favorite person on the planet, and the feeling seems to be mutual. I'm not trying to say that I'm not spoiled (could I even begin to make a case?), but it's not as though she throws a Visa at me before continuing to choose between Botox and Restylane. We're tight.
Anyway, I'd been under the impression that this rather small fabric camellia would be stylistically comparable to the enormous flowers that Carrie Bradshaw wears (for reference, Sex & the City Season 3 Episode 2 "Politically Erect). I'd never been so wrong. It looked like a snazzy cauliflower had sprouted and bloomed on my unimpressive decolletage.
Natch, I turned my eye to two designers known quite well for their tasteful use of embellishment - Chanel (obviously) and Vera Wang:
PhotobucketPhotobucket
Alas, I'd figured out where I was slipping up. Although Vera Wang, shown on the right, doesn't use flowers specifically, the detail is placed together and in clumps. As I zoomed into this until my eyes began to bleed, I couldn't find any hint of this being a necklace other than its shape and placement, which work well to flatter and draw attention to the neckline.
Unfortunately, I can't reinvent my brooch as necklace. By can't, I mean I don't want to. So I turned to Chanel. Ah, Karl Karl Karl. When you fail, you fail hard. This isn't very tasteful at all. I understand the sentiment behind the flowers on the bodice, but the skirt? Really? Truly? Nevertheless, look beyond tackiness and notice that generally, the flowers are once again positioned in groups. They're not overpowering, nor are they too unimposing and forgettable and, let's face it, awkward.
Unfortunately, I have better things to do than shell out several hundred dollars on a silk flower. Or the several that are, apparently, necessary to make them work. I have one, I'll have it forever, and I'll try not to leave it in the laundry or squirt ketchup on it. I plan on buying small pins, grey or silver organza (or tulle, whichever I find first), and ribbon. I'll fashion some myself and won't bat an eye when I set one on fire. That way, I can cover myself in flowers and no one will be the wiser.