Room Temperature

For me, getting a manicure (and a pedicure) is as much about taking care of my brain as taking care of my hands. I've been going to the same nail place for at least five years- Pastels on 2nd Avenue and 12th Street- though I don't feel guilty if I occasionally stray.

Manicures are definitely a luxury. They are often the first thing to go when I am feeling broke. But they are also an immediate remedy when I am feeling very broke. Nice hands simply make me feel nice.

For a long time, I stuck with the nudes- I was a sheep, and I had been properly inoculated against anything so bold as a color. Pink was cheesy! Never mention blue or green! The only colors close to acceptable were the occasional classic red or rich "vamp." (If Herr Karl approved who are we to disobey?) And I generally hid those on my toes.

But in the past couple of years, thanks to Karl, and LiLo and a host of other flashy types, nail color has become more then variations on Ballet Slipper. It's become rich purple, and jade, and endless variations of colors so dark they all look black. Now I approach the color rack with the same excitement I entered old fashioned candy stores as a child, and as I do enter cheese shops as an adult.  "Pick a color?" is right up there with "would you like to taste this?" I thrill to hear it and I want to sample it all. 

Nothing is out of bounds! Cantaloupe is delicious in the summer! Shop Til I Drop makes no sense, but I love the pinkness of it! And the endless variations of red are enough to make an apple farmer cry. With all the rich and lovely choices, how is it that now, after a prolonged manicure drought, I find myself with nails the color of essentially, mildewed tile grout? And further- liking it?

The specific color is "Mink Muffs" by beloved Essie. The name is vaguely dirty, and I feel a shred of embarrassment writing it down. I was shown the new spring colors, with names like "Tart Deco" (a sweet Miami orangey-pink). And yet my midwinter mind went straight back to the nineties and brown. I even tried to switch colors mid-mani. "What was I thinking with this dullness?" I wondered. My technician talked me out of it. "This is a good color. Nice." She said. Ok. Why not?

And dear reader, three days later, I love it still! There is no explanation except that my nails, while not nude or beige or off white, are instead darkly colorless. They are speaking in a normal everyday voice, instead of yelling to be seen, or simpering quietly. Or a better analogy- they are not hot, like red, nor cool like black. They are an even-keeled room temperature, and I like it that way. They are, to quote the fairy tale, just right.