Monday, April 17, 2006
I've always been into doing my nails. Sister can attest to my late night polish sessions as early as 6th grade. It's always been a regular part of my lady maintenance and I always say, nail tech is totally my fall back career. I'm good.
Over the years, I've amassed a sick collection of more than 200 bottles of nail polish and a shoebox crammed with nail art supplies. I've got decals, rhinestones, Japanese glitter gels, even a tiny drill for piercing and sweet golden charms. Call me crazy, or pure nerd, I'm obsessed.
Back in my secretarial days, I went tip crazy and spent hours in a salon near Hachette until Mara was like "lose the tips, they look like chiclets and they freak me out." Point taken. I was au natural until a recent trip to Miami and all the baby hipster girls running ghetto fabulous-lite around town got me inspired. So I find myself sitting for hours and hours once again, this time with the super rad Nancy in a tiny salon on 85th and Amsterdam. The Upper West isn't exactly a nail decoration kind of 'hood, but Nancy's down to try anything I like and all the work gives her an excuse to stay late and watch her Chinese soaps. Tonight, even though she prefaced it with a sniff and "not so beautiful! for Valentine's Day, why now?" she laboriously applied the tiny foil hearts that I brought in. I haven't used them since copping them at Shibuya 109. If you don't know what that is....school yourself on the ganguro goodness and drop by next time you're in Jp.
And yes, that's me in the pigtails above (with sister and cousins Amy and Julie). The original nail gangstress. Act like you know.