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The joy of painted nails

May 12, 2012

As I have aged, my requirement for makeup has evolved. Initially I had an Evette four colour eyeshadow palette. Woolworths own brand and I loved it. Green, pink, ivory and taupe. With a little sponge-headed applicator. I say those were the colours but in the last  10 years I have discovered that I don’t see colours  correctly so they could have been blues and greys to be honest.

Then, still a young  teen,  I would never be without my Jeepers Creepers mascara  – often in blue. Mary Quant’s revolutionary new waterproof mascara in a silver tube with a big fat blobby lid and the trademark daisy logo.

I never wore lipstick and never wore any thing on my face like foundation or powder. Then I started wearing nail varnish. All colours, sometimes more than one colour at a time. Often black.  It was the mid seventies. I think it was the black nail varnish and the huge brown platform shoes that got me my place at sixth form college as every other interviewee was trussed up in their school uniform looking like a bunch of goody two shoes.

Once in hospitals I was not allowed nail varnish as I had to scrub up for sterile procedures so I got out of the habit of wearing it. But I plastered the eyeliner on instead.

Then a few years ago I was given a manicure as a present. What a revelation! It made my nails look sooooo much better, and once pampered I found it difficult to accept my subsequent messy attempts.  I hadn’t realised how bad I was at doing them till then. Even with fabulous OPI colours.

So I would have a manicure when I could, but with life as it was, it would chip within a few days and so it was an expensive luxury. Until I discovered gel nails and now shellac. OMG – no chipping at all for two or three weeks, which drops the price per perfect nail day right down.

And I love looking down and seeing them all perfect and professional. It’s part of the armour that makes me feel ready to face the world. It was only a couple of years ago that I was in the coffee-making area at work and the General Manager of the company came in and started talking to me. I continued to make my coffee, getting my milk from the fridge on the other side of the room. He appeared to whisper something to a female colleague who had just arrived and then he left. I didn’t really think about it until she said to me ‘Your dress is tucked in to your tights at the back’. As I had been to the loo as soon as I got in to work,  I must have been walking round the building with my arse on display for nearly two hours. Does this kind of thing only happen to me?

If anyone wants the telephone number of the manicurist on Northfield Avenue let me know – she’s great!

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4 Responses to “The joy of painted nails”

  1. PAUL Says:

    Can’t wait for Richard’s blog on men’s grooming tips!


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