Now that you know what Amelia has put her face through in anticipation of the winter olympic games that are fashion week, which lay intermediately ahead, are you wondering what I planned in preparation?
Well, is it okay if I tell you anyway?
I thought about the sorts of accessories I could manufacture using my own body parts and though my initial idea was to bring my smile everywhere, growing out my nails seemed like so much more fun. It’s important to remember, though, I maintain an emphatically type-B personality, so, where Amelia actually went so far as to let her caterpillars crawl, I bought (well, Charlotte bought) glue-ons and applied them with red nail polish in lieu of letting my nails grow in earnest.
#1: A profound, new respect for the likes of Rihanna, Lana Del Rey, Halle Berry’s character, Nisi, in the 1997 critically acclaimed, B*A*P*S (if you, like everyone else in this office, have never seen that film, you are dead to me), and effectively every receptionist I have ever had to encounter pull documents out of a folder or place back inside a filing cabinet.
#2: That it is easy to take for granted how simple typing or the quotidian act of holding a coffee cup, swiftly sending a text message, or of scratching your head and pulling keys out of your handbag can feel when your nails are not ten inches long.
The process of application went something like this: I placed five of the adhesive-ready nails over the nail beds on my left hand. The other thing about ten inch nails is that if you’re applying them yourself, you’re fresh out of luck and motor skill capacity by nail #6. So Amelia placed the remaining five nails over my right beds, helped me paint them red and just like that, I was a physical manifestation Daria Werbowy’s oft-mentioned F/W 2013 ads for Céline.
Or was I? In reviewing the events of my yesterday, I think I feel much more like a dynamic cross between the worst version of Rita Ora, a fork (for eating chia bars, of course), and this woman, who apparently holsters the longest nails on earth.
Conclusion: Amelia’s bodily growth trumps mine and I’m back to utilizing the tips of my fingers in utter joy. Turns out long nails aren’t quite fashion yet — or is it simply that no matter what Werbowy touches turns to red lacquered gold?