Finding Your Lady on a Nail Bed
Today, we vet in favor of Treat-ing ourselves again
Have I spent ample time thinking about the day that I would finally want to look more feminine? Sure. Did I believe that day would come this quickly and furthermore ignite my wanting to wear nail polish again? Absolutely not.
Here’s what happened yesterday: Amelia has been hell bent on producing a story about printed socks. This might come in the wake of the recent though perhaps unsurprising revelation that men do menswear better than women do.
We’ve chalked it up to a number of variables that cannot be eradicated. For one thing, our hips don’t lie whereas mens’ do (because they’re slim regardless of waist size). For another, men are unimpressed by appearing over-styled. They also don’t brand-applaud or shame one another, and all those elements allow for the fundamental tools of good style to penetrate the surface layer that is the human body and shine, baby. Shine.
But where socks are concerned, it’s a moot point: when you think well-dressed women, you rarely consider the socks. We planned to make the case for them today using photos of me outfitted like me, which is to say like a man who looks like a cross between my dad and Michael Jackson. When we scrapped the story, I was left in a flannel shirt from Uniqlo plus high waist raw denim jeans, a double breasted blazer, wedge loafers and, of course, the socks.
Due to the nature of my short hair coupled with my ascot I felt more masculine than usual. And frankly, being confused for a boy is thrilling at first, but by the time you grow ready to assume your own gender it gets a little tired. I yearned for an unwitting sense of femininity and without the relief of red lipstick (point of contention, don’t want to talk about it), I had to get creative.
This is where the nail polish comes in.
I’ve recently taken an interest in a relatively new polish brand called Treat. This is partially because their clear polish is first-rate and they offer a generously wide range of nude colors for ladies like me, who don’t often festoon their nail beds in color, but also because it’s toxin free which is completely in line with my new, anti-Cancer, pro-running lifestyle.
Now, you may not know this about me but I have not worn nail polish in years. This is chiefly because I wear so many rings, and that combined with auspicious nail color seems too much like the accessory equivalent of Charlotte York. It is also incredibly UN-FRENCH TO WEAR NAIL POLISH and really now, why would I put the final nail in my own coffin of continental discovery?
But last summer, Daria Werbowy’s Fall/Winter Céline ads replete with red long nails perplexed me in the same way that Birkenstocks do. My stance said no but my heart said yes which is probably why yesterday, in my own puny effort to look more like a girl (earth to Leandra! Try a dress), I painted my nails red using Treat’s Summer Time. (I am projecting).
Now, when I look down at my keyboard and watch my fingers press keys, I feel like Janice of Friends fame and I’m okay with that. Maybe ultimately this is not about becoming more feminine but rather recognizing that I will never be French — and that that’s okay. Or, you know, maybe I just like red nail polish again. Whatever.