On the first day of what is considered the world’s most prestigious garden show, King Charles III surveyed plantings of goldenrod, mulberry and rhubarb with David Beckham, who had a new white shrub rose named for him this year.
A long-uninvited guest had joined them: the garden gnome.
At the event, the Chelsea Flower Show in London, a ban on gnomes was temporarily lifted by the organizer, the Royal Horticultural Society, Britain’s main gardening charity and arbiter of green-fingered taste. Officials typically deem gnomes too campy, but this year they invited celebrities to decorate the figurines as part of a fund-raising effort to kindle children’s interest in gardens.
The change in policy, limited to 2026, set off fervid debate about the place of kitsch in the traditional English garden.
Robert Brett, curator for the Royal Horticulture Society’s garden at Wisley, southwest of London, was unequivocal as he escorted a group around the show. “Do we have gnomes at Wisley? Am I interested in gnomes? No,” he said.
But Tom Allen, a British comedian who had outfitted a gnome in a painted suit and tie for the charity to auction, said he hoped that officials might abolish the ban for good. “Something that’s quirky and different and a bit passé, like a gnome, is actually what the world needs,” he said.
Clearly, some agreed. A gnome with a miniature guitar, decorated by Brian May of the rock band Queen, sold at auction for 3,700 pounds, nearly $5,000.
“In the privacy of your own garden, you can do what you want,” Mr. May said.
Subtlety is key, said Alan Titchmarsh, a British television personality and vice president of the Royal Horticultural Society. “One just gently peeking out makes people smile,” he added.
Such was the case in a garden sponsored by King Charles’s foundation, where a lone gnome was easy to miss, his back turned to the path and largely shielded by ferns.
The sprawling show dates to 1913 and features elaborate outdoor gardens, balcony and container gardens to inspire inventive use of smaller spaces, and the hottest newly engineered plants, alongside the classics.
The few gnomes on display kept a low profile, and while some showgoers said they longed to see more, many grimaced at mention of them.
“I don’t think they belong here,” said Barbara Hayward, a plant enthusiast from London. “They’re a bit over the top.”
For purists wanting nothing to do with even a gnome decorated by the likes of Cate Blanchett, there was only one thing to buy.
Every year, in the final hour of the show’s last day, a loud bell heralds a 10-second countdown to a free-for-all during which attendees in straw hats and floral prints throw decorum aside and jockey to buy prizewinning plants.
The sale helps rapidly empty stands that have been meticulously built up across weeks and sends many home with botanical souvenirs. Plants are stripped from pots, roots and soil stuffed into plastic bags. Bank notes are waved overhead (though credit cards are accepted). Lines form for bouquets of daffodils named after Winston Churchill.
Nuala Orton of London was first in a line of dozens of buyers at an aquatic garden display. “I’m hoping for that tall purple iris for my pond,” she said, pointing to a Japanese variety known as Dinner Plate Jell-O.
“Some of these plants aren’t a whole lot cheaper, but it’s fun to bring something home from Chelsea,” she said. “It’s good British madness.”
A display of 680 Chinese orchids was largely earmarked for Kew Gardens, but more than a hundred were up for grabs.
Sara Stronach of Berkshire, England, had come for the gold-medal-winning clematis varieties from the Raymond Evison nursery, which supplies the flowering climbing plants to the king. The nursery had shipped 2,500 of them from the island of Guernsey for the event — and was motivated to sell rather than ship them back.
“You must be determined and aggressive,” Andrew Sheerin of the Evison nursery said as early crowds assembled for the sell-off. The clematis plants were going for £10 each, less than half what they typically cost.
While some vendors said they occasionally allowed people to outbid each other, most said they honored set prices and promises. “This is Chelsea,” Mr. Sheerin said, “so we have to be polite.”
Some excitable buyers wound up with more than expected. “We try not to buy too much,” said Avril Jennings of Liverpool, who transported two rose bushes home from a past show. “But it’s hard.”
As showgoers stumbled away with cut bunches of South African flowers peeking out of bags and arms stretched around oversize pots, the floor of the nearby Sloane Square underground station was soon littered with stray leaves and petals.
Richard Perry of London hugged a towering blue delphinium that cost £30 and stood roughly seven feet tall. He planned to deliver it to his parents in the Midlands of England, somehow.
“First, I’ve got to sneak onto the tube,” he said. “There’s a height limit on what you can carry on, so I’m going to hold it at an angle.”
Rebecca R. Ruiz is an investigative reporter for The Times based in London.
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