Why Nails Are My Favorite Canvas
Image Courtesy: Instagram
The ritual of beauty is never glamorous. The raw scrubbing of faces, body sprays beading fruity poison perspiration onto skin. Growing up a girl is a slow induction into this coven of many spells, its book gaining new pages every day. My eyes always went to the hands that held the grimoire of beauty, some soft and with dirt under fingernails and others callused and manicured. They always told a story about the person, and what seemed like an immunity to the harsh criticism the rest of the body is subject to.
Nothing was more elegant and feminine to me than long, manicured nails. Whenever I saw a lady with acrylics I was in awe. They represented a fashionable yet powerful womanhood, the one I saw in rom-com protagonists who stumbled across love and went to work in New York City everyday. The things a 9 year old girl would do for some long, red nails. I still remember watching Madeline Argy show off her new nails to her vlog camera and it reawakened the childhood desire within me. I bought my first pair of pink press-ons that day and never went back since.
The chic designs I idolized evolved into something different as the years went on and my beauty idols changed. A chic red nail belonged to a sophisticated woman, but it wasn’t me. Online fashion girls and drag queens showed me new, expressive possibilities for nails. Minimalist or “clean girl aesthetic” didn’t work for me. Feminine, yes, but in the most exaggerated sense of the word. Sparkles, bows, the most girlish designs my mind could think of. I was creating my own kind of womanhood in a way I knew how, using them as props in the performance of gender.
Image Courtesy: Josephine Belliveau
From the moment I began messily painting my own nails with shaky hands, strangers at my dull retail job would use them to strike up conversation. Maybe they were only surprised when I said I did them myself out of kindness, but I wonder where I would be without their encouragement. I found that many other girls spent hours doodling on their nails, but it was never a labor without love. Often the set would be themed after something they loved; the beach, Coraline (2009), Monet’s waterlilies, frogs. In the world of beauty and its rules, nails are a deviation that offers choice. I’m not contouring my the soft shape of my face because 10 pounds will be lost and Bella Hadid cheekbones will be gained- I will paint my nails this way with the joy of a coloring child, I’ll be a woman with a museum of the things I love growing from my fingertips.
Are nails the answer to beauty burnout? The term was coined by writer Ellen Atlanta to give voice to the uphill battle of maintenance that plagues women’s schedules. Endless appointments for hair, lashes, waxing, certainly doesn’t end with nails- if too long or flashy, they can be criticized in professional spaces. Not only might you spend $120 at a nail salon to look and feel put together, but you might not even have the creative benefit of a design you enjoy. When gel nail polish technology got into the hands of Gen Z, nails became an artistic endeavor rather than a requirement on the laundry list of beauty to-dos.
My hobby turned side hustle can be tiring at times- my weekdays are full of classes, my part-time job, then a few nail appointments to top the day off. No matter how busy my college schedule is, when I’m sitting across from a client it restores me. I get to mix a myriad of colors while they tell me why they love what they love, the special occasions happening in their life, and what makes them feel beautiful. I believe I’m an amalgamation of sorts of everyone I meet, that is certainly true by the creative collaborations of a nail set, whether it’s done by a stranger or on my best friend. I paint new reflections of them every few weeks when I start again, when it’s time for a fresh set.
Strike Out,
Josephine Belliveau
Saint Augustine
Editor: Kaya O’Rourke
Josephine Belliveau is a writer for Strike Magazine, St. Augustine. She’s an aspiring journalist, girlblogger, and the author of strange, strange poetry. When she’s not anxiously showing her girlfriend the first draft of everything she’s ever written, she is most likely crocheting or painting nails. You can read more on Instagram and Substack @unripe.angel.
