I have so much to be thankful for: sandals, warm weather and a million colors of nail polish. If it weren’t for these three things, my sisters and I wouldn’t be living here in Los Angeles, successful business women in a storefront on Westwood Boulevard.
I really don’t mind squatting on a little swivel stool, hunched over feet, sometimes big and ugly, with nails so thick I wish I had a Skil Saw to cut them. Lots of times I have to wash the grime from the bottoms of feet so I like to soak them first in disinfectant before I scrub them. The worst are those cracked heels with the dry skin. Oh, hell, why should I complain? Most of the ladies are nice, except the ones who mess up the nail polish when they put their flip flops back on, and I have to redo the damaged paint. I actually like the smell of the nail polish. It used to make me dizzy, but now I look forward to it early in the morning. The acetone remover is the best. I have to work hard and use lots of the remover to take off the old chipped color, and I really trip out on the new nail polish, sometimes painting three coats instead of two. Some ladies really get carried away and want to have designs and fake jewels attached to their toenails. Where do they get these ideas? Red white and blue for July, green and red for December, yellow and blue for April. Beats me.
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You wrote a lot of really good pieces this week. What I liked about this one was the way I really believed the point of view. I love the idea that the young woman working in the nail shop loves the smell of nail polish, that she looks forward to it, that the acetone remover is the best. It's real, and original, and somewhat worrisome all at the same time.
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