Today there’s something a little different about my look. I haven’t cut my hair or decided to wear bright red lipstick. No, I just have on press-on nails. “Why?” you may ask. I’m here to explain, “Why not?”I’m not talented in the nail arts like Simcha. I can’t even apply a pale pink shade to my toes without making a huge mess. I’m a sucker for weekly manis and pedis, usually sticking to the same four colors — Essie’s “Sugar Daddy” and “Fifth Avenue” and OPI’s “Lincoln Park After Dark” and “You Don’t Know Jacques” — but occasionally I like to mix it up. That’s when I go press-on.
Press-ons used to only come in those godawful French manicure styles, with extra long talons, but nowadays, you can score shorter, squoval shapes with fun designs and patterns. Sure, it’s harder to pick your teeth or put in a tampon or, you know, type with these babies super-glued to your digits, but life is not without pain. So, last night, fueled by a bottle of red wine and the sudden realization that I wouldn’t have time to get a manicure before the Frisky party we’re having tonight, I ran out to the drug store to solve my nail dilemma.
Now my nails are like an additional accessory! While different from my usual style, I think they add a little pizazz and a bit of humor. Tonight, as I’m introducing myself to party-goers as Amelia, Editor-in-Chief of The Frisky, I’ll be shaking hands with flair.