Shellack

As I started to leave work today I heard an unusual amount of excited children sounds coming from the cafeteria.  Having extra time, I decided to investigate.  The Extended Day (after school care) program had a "mall" set up.  Upon entering, the kids went to the bank where a friendly, pint-sized teller handed them a wad of fake cash. (How's that for an economics lesson?)  They could then choose how to spend their money.  Myriad choices were around the room:  a movie theater complete with popcorn and beverages, a smoothie shop, an ice cream shop, a pizza stand, a face painting area, some crafting options, and, of course, the Beauty Parlor.  This little gem offered manicures, pedicures, and massages (with a real massage table), all done by students.

I stopped by the bank, got $20 and was on my way.  I marched straight over to the Beauty Parlor where one of my students was happy to take my $2 for a manicure.  I had noticed that the nail technicians seemed to be older students and inquired about who would be taking care of my nails, to which my first grader replied, "Oh, I will!"

Vivian had brought her own nail polish from home, a fact made obvious by her name written, in her mom's handwriting, around each bottle of polish.  There were 11 choices of colors, ranging from clear to lime green to what can only be described as rotten eggplant.  I asked Vivian her opinion.  "Oh, I don't know.  You should probably just pick one."  So I did.  A lovely Barbie-esque pink.  It was then that Vivian got nervous.  "Well," she stammered, "I'm not very good.  I practiced on my mom last night and I already did 3 or 4 other girls today.  Still with all that practice I'm not that good."  In my most reassuring teacher voice, I told her that I trusted her and I was sure it would be lovely.

Then I watched in horror as she began.

I splayed my hands confidently on the table and she began with my left pinky nail.  There was an obvious lack of nail polish on the brush; Vivian spent most of her time removing "extra" paint from the brush and putting it back into the bottle versus on my nail.  She took the lightly coated brush and began smudging the color side to side, up and down, horizontally on my nail.  This is not a girl who feels confined to use the more traditional nail bed to tip, 3 stroke rule that most of us are accustomed to.  No, her brush moves in any way it can to unevenly disperse a minimal amount of polish.

After finishing the pinky, she tried to paint my ring finger and middle finger without re-dipping for more polish.  I had to stifle a laugh.  I said, "Perhaps you should get more polish on the brush," to which she replied, "See, I told you I'm not very good."  Once again I reassured her, this time asking if she wanted to paint my stinky toenails.  She laughed and relaxed a bit but continued on the rest of my fingers in the same fashion.

After applying enough polish to make my nails look like they'd been done 2 weeks ago and were badly chipping away, she shrugged and said, "Ok.  That's it!" with a semi-confident smile.  I asked her how much it would cost for a second coat.  "Well, you have to wait until it's dry."  She then poked at the first finger she'd done and decided it would suffice.  Truth be told, the only nail that didn't dry instantly was my right thumb; there was a large, gooey blob of nail polish becoming tacky between my nail and my finger.

Then, more horror.

"What color do you want for your second coat?"  What?!

Hmm.  "I typically do my second coat of polish the same color as the first."

She had other ideas.  "I think you should maybe do purple."  Seeing that she was not referring to the rotten eggplant hue but rather to a glittery lavender, I conceded.

History repeated itself.  This time she was using even less polish and moving quickly to the next nail.  "The best thing about the second coat is that you don't have to put it on the whole nail.  It just needs a little on top of the first color.  See?"

I saw, indeed.  She then picked up an eastery blue and green saying, "Miss Lippitt, you should have picked these!  They match your outfit!"  "Should I have a third and fourth coat?" I asked cautiously.
She scoffed.  Apparently third and fourth coats were out of the question.

I thanked her for her professionalism and exclaimed that I loved the color and she kindly picked up my purse and gingerly placed it on my outstretched and drying hand, like any experienced nail technician would.