189. Nail Polish

“If you want a scary black lady to like you, compliment her nails. It always works for me at the bank” Jenna Maroney, 30 Rock

Let’s travel back to an age long ago called 2008. It was a simpler time. Blackberries and Whitney Houston were still relevant, loving Chris Brown was a guilt-free way to be, but more importantly our nails were one of two things: painted pink/red, or like, Wicked. Now flash to today and tell me…what the fuck color are your nails? Gray? Orange? Teal with a gold cross?

We don’t know exactly what happened. Maybe it was (God help us) a trend started by Lady Gaga. Maybe Anna Wintour wore Russian navy pants and flip flops. It’s unclear because we remember a time when our moms allowed us to wear black nail polish only if it was Halloween yet now you’re only cool if your collection contains 50 different shades of black. It’s safe to say that now in 2012, the color of your nails is just as pivotal to your ensemble as the height of your heels or the concavity of your collarbone.

So, always at the forefront of trendiness, betches got on board. We casually bought a few dozen bottles and immediately set ourselves apart from the rest of the TTH flosers by switching to colors that Frenchly manicured nicegirls could never pull off. And as time passed, the manicures became even more outrageous, and therefore more chic. Ombre mani? Sure. Extending a black “french tip” to the perimeter of each nail? Loves it. Making your nail long and pointy then color coordinating the manicure with your nationality? Count me in.

Although painting one’s own nails is seriously povo, learning to do our own nails without seeming like we did so blindfolded has given us the potential for gay-pride-flag levels of nail color diversity. I mean obviously the nail place remains a spiritual betch mecca, but when we decided we wanted to change our color bi-daily, or maybe just repaint one finger a completely random non-matching color (a completely sane trend), we need to take matters into our own hands when we don’t always have the time or sobriety to make it to the manicurist.

Not to mention the obvious: the nail salon experience is fucking cumbersome. Have you ever walked out of there not feeling like you just ran a marathon? You make an appointment with your favorite Korean refugee whos casually named Kathy. Once you arrive she immediately starts talking shit about you in her native tongue and finally you ask if somethings wrong. Oh no honey, you fine, nail look good, you so pretty you pretty girl you have a boy?

Seriously between the dozen ladies telling you to like, pick a color, and the hour of fake convo with a woman who knows 5 English words, getting your nails done is never enjoyable. Add in the fumes which get you more high than you were when you walked in (which was very), and you’re practically back in a high school chemistry lab, except worse because instead of just copying the notes of the person next to you, the person next to you is suggesting you need an upper lip waxing when you all you asked for was a fucking top coat.

Let’s talk about brands. When it comes to polish, you basically have two options: Essie and OPI. Some betches are loyal to one, while others have no qualms mix and matching. It’s a personal preference really as Essie frequently kills it with the seasonal trends while OPI is great for more classic hues. Of course Dior, Chanel, etc. all have lines and are great but nail polish is the one purchase where the designer option is not always preferable. They don’t come out with colors as often as the standard brands and unless your entire collection is loyal to one company, the designer bottles will just offset the aesthetic of your nail polish display. Oh and it goes without saying that the 4 dollar bottles from CVS should only be purchased as a Secret Santa gift for the fat secretary in your office who always tells your boss when you’re a few hours late in the morning.

So betches, we assume you’re reading this post between waiting for your coats to dry. If you’re not then you probably should be. After all, you can’t prof pic yourself holding a vodka soda with fugly unpainted nails, or even worse, Fiji.

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