I am a Shellac Addict and this is my story.

When I was a young girl I became instantly obsessed with my nails.  It all began when Mrs. Dinapole, my kindergarten teacher would read us stories and I saw her pretty claws turning those pages.  I don't think I knew what any of the tales were about because all I could do was stare at those beautiful red talons tapping the pages and pointing at each corresponding colorful illustration.  I headed straight home to play teacher where I would place the pen caps from my markers on each of my fingers and open up a book to pretend to read to my imaginary students.  As soon as I was able I began purchasing every nail polish color that existed on this planet - and several that appeared to be from others.  My collection was legendary.  My nails were always painted.  Maintaining my nails was one of the most important things to me and I somehow had the time to devote to this.  I remember selecting which musical instrument I was to learn in 3rd grade.  Though I desperately wanted to play the violin - I chose the flute instead - so I wouldn't have to cut my nails to hold down the strings.  Of course when I got older and had more money to waste - I would keep myself in acrylic tips - even learning how to do them myself at home.  Eventually - poor college student life took over and that all fell by the wayside.  In my adult years - I have found it utterly impossible to have the patience to paint my nails on any sort of regular basis - knowing that they are going to chip within a day no matter what type of topcoat I use.  Even when I splurge for a mani/pedi - I am sad knowing in a few days the chipped paint will be catching on something and I will have to spend time to remove it from my fingernails because it looks ridiculous.  It was actually just a few short years ago that I allowed my mother to toss my gigantic tub of nail polishes I had collected throughout the years out - even though I knew most of them probably had gotten gross and unusable - they really represented quite a bit of my funds growing up!  You know my priorities changed when I started playing the guitar and am constantly chopping off my left hand (always longer/stronger) nails in order to be better able to play.  Well something has come along to change all that.  It's called Shellac.  Now I suppose this is a random blog post - since this isn't a beauty blog and especially since it has been a REALLY long time since I have posted one - but I've been dying to share my love of Shellac for a few months now.  So for those of you entirely uninterested in girly nail polishy things - you've probably gotten all you can get from this post.  For the rest of you beauty/makeup freaks....read on...

  Just in case you haven't the foggiest notion what I am talking about: Shellac is a brand of gel nail polish which is activated by U.V. light (via special lamps for your hands) which cures the gel to a shiny and immovable manicure that lasts for at least 14 days.  Mine usually lasts close to 3 weeks!  The polish dries within a few minutes and you are out of the salon digging through your purse and picking your wedges with not one shred of fear about ruining your manicure.  The removal process is something you can do yourself if you need be.  All you need is to wrap or soak your nails in regular nail polish remover (with acetone) and once you've soaked long enough you can gently scrape it off with an orange wood stick.  This removal process doesn't really damage your nails but it definitely always takes a little longer than they advertise - whether I am in the salon or doing it myself.  Shellac does cost a wee bit more than your average NYC cheap-ass manicure - but the fact that I usually have mine for 3 weeks makes up for that.  I can usually find places that charge about $35 - $40 for a basic application.  It can cost more if you want special designs or a french manicure - as is usually the case.  Salons don't usually charge you anything to remove your last Shellac when you are paying for a new one.  The jury is still out on some of the naysayers who may warn that the time under the U.V.lights may be a danger to your skin.  As a fair-skinned and semi-freckled ghost - I tend to hide from the sun and do everything I can to steer clear of skin cancer.  So I am going to keep an eye on what people have to say about this - but as far as I can learn - this doesn't pose any more risk than driving a car without sunscreen or gloves on.
 
  So yes, I am literally addicted to it now.  The only problem I have with it is that they really don't have a large range of colors to select from.  They've got the generic reds/pinks/brownish colors covered - and some really neutral tans and whites - but only 3-5 or so "funky" colors.  I dig the funky.  When you are selecting something to look down and admire for 2-3 weeks though - you want to REALLY love it.  How many times can I get my nails painted the same 3-5 funky-ish colors??  Now there are several other gel manicure brands - O.P.I. makes one called Axxium which has tons more awesome colors to select from.  The only problem is that it doesn't last as long as Shellac - and requires a special solution in order to remove it - so you HAVE to have a salon do it.  Plus - they say it is harsher on your natural nails - and you don't want to ruin those just because you are obsessed with long-lasting polish.  So I am presently giving my nails a break from the Shellac - mainly because I am no longer inspired by any of their color options and I have to pay extra to have fun designs created with the boring color selection.  But now I've started trying to apply regular polish again - because I am addicted to seeing something lovely on my nails!  Suddenly I am 12 years old again - waiting for my nails to dry and looking for new colors to dump my money on.  Grrr...I wish they all existed on Shellac!

Here are some shots of my Shellac experiences:

Here was my latest - getting funky because they need more color selections! This was two different colors plus a glitter over everything to make it even more interesting.

I generally like to keep my nails shorter in case I feel like practicing my gee-tar. 

A little glitter over the gray - to make it more fun.

A little hot pink....

One of their few funky colors - purple!

A sexy hooker red...

3 weeks later - left hand FLAWLESS - minus the barely noticeable growth at the cuticle.

Proud Mary Keep on Turnin'!

What a weekend in NYC!!! Just when I thought all we were waiting for was a decision on whether or not the senate was even going to vote on the issue of Gay Marriage - midnight struck and they had not only voted - but voted in favor of it! Wha??!?! This should not come as a surprise to me as it most certainly should have happened before all of the other states but, well - almost nothing comes as a surprise to me these days. All I know for sure is that I really know nothing for sure. What was most delightful is that this influential decision came at the start of NYC's Pride Celebration Weekend! I was scheduled to work some events during this weekend's festivities and couldn't have been happier that I was going to get paid to go and celebrate on such an exciting weekend in history.

Now, I have been living in NYC for 9 years and out of those 9 years - I would say I might have missed 3 or 4 parade celebrations. I have a gaggle of close gay friends who I was giddy to go out and support for my first few years in the city. Then as I started to pay some closer attention to politics and the issue of gay marriage started to become an even bigger issue - I found myself really taking notice and getting involved. The parade for me as always been about the celebration of a movement that started on June 28, 1969 with the riots at Stonewall. It is many things to many people: a time to drool over all the hot bodies, a time to get naked and don as much glitter as possible, a chance to walk in shoes and outfits no sane person should be able to stand straight up in, and for many - the time to gawk at all of the above - either with pride, envy, or embarrassment. But through it all - at it's heart - are the couples you see proudly holding hands, many of whom have been together longer than most heterosexual marriages. Through it all it is about how difficult it shouldn't be for couples just like them all across the country to be proud of who they are and who they love. Through it all it is about the movement that began in 1969 when they just weren't going to take the abuse anymore and began to fight for their equal human rights.

Just a few short years ago after I had attended some rallies in support of gay marriage in Queens and the city, after I stood out in front of my local representative's office to show that he did not currently support the gay marriage bill and urging him to do so, after years of doing whatever I could to support this movement - me - a "straight" girl...had a startling realization. I was hanging out with some of my close friends - you know, the same ones I had gone out to support and love with every fiber of my being. We were sitting next to an older gay gentleman who brought up the subject of gay marriage - and Prop 8 - as it was all so HUGE in the news at that time. I was excited by this stranger connecting on this issue and wanting to discuss it with us. They seemed mostly irritated by this older gentleman that, perhaps, might be hitting on them. Worse-they seemed unimpressed or moved in any which way. It was as if they hadn't been aware it was even happening. My heart sunk. Why was this more important to me than it was to them?

Going to Pride with my friends always meant drinking in the bar at Stonewall until the parade was over-then hitting a few more gay bars-and most often hanging out until each of them hopefully found someone to go home with. How was this different than what we did when I'd visit gay bars with them on any other night? It wasn't. The fact that 6+ years of this along the idea that they were generally missing the actual significance of the day or those fighting for it = me opting to avoid the hot sweaty/shirtless crowds of the village in recent years.

This year wasn't supposed to be any different -but then I got scheduled to work in the parade. This sounded all the more fun when things went so well in Albany. So I donned my glitter and off I went!

While walking the route with 4 straight men - 3 of which who happened to be topless and hot - our lack of samples to pass out resulted in something strange. First off-I had a conversation with one of them that was eerily similar to one I had just the night before at a bar. These talks consisted of me claiming the importance of the day and them insisting that no one was going for those reasons but purely to see naked men and freaks-and to find someone to "freak" by the days end. These were straight men who insisted that they "have no problem with gay people and (insert weak proof here)."-but who continued to scoff at my notion that this day actually meant something serious to anyone. To say that these conversations bothered me is to say that I saw nary a nipple at the parade (lies...all lies!). By the time I had this talk with my coworker a few times IN the parade I decided it was futile and I would not waste more energy on it.

Unfortunately we ran out of samples to pass out, which sucked, but then something AWESOME happened. I walked half of the parade making as much eye contact as I could with everyone in the crowd as I wished them a Happy Pride - and blew kisses, slapped high-fives, gave a hug when arms opened up-screaming until I thought I lost my voice (something I usually don't allow to happen as a singer). Every so often we were getting verbally abused for not having free samples walking in the parade-but mostly-I connected with people receiving my wishes and my love. I saw the gratitude in their eyes and I knew they instantly felt how genuinely happy I was about it and I often forgot I was there to hand out chips. The best part was-I think many of them did too!

In a time when we are celebrating the victory of NYC finally making gay marriage legal-the fact remains that those marriages still aren't recognized in 40 other states. Living in NYC it is easy to imagine that everyone is open, accepting, and in support of human rights for all. But even right here in the city I continue to experience these politically correct stock responses which clearly do not reflect their truest feelings/assumptions. It's like when people used to say "I have no problem with black people-one of my good friends is black!". If this exists in Nyc-what is it like in the other 40 states?

As I went home. Drained and worried I lost my voice, I also couldn't stop worrying about whether the arguments of those two straight guys had more truth than I had imagined. How can anyone gain a different opinion of this community when many of them appear so blissfully unaware of their own movement/history? When a huge percentage of them are still fulfilling the idea of the "careless homosexual" that so often puts themselves and their very own community in danger.

Perhaps when you are so much a part of something it is hard to step out of yourself and see what is right. Like the feeling that "Well, I've already cheated on my diet-there's no saving me now-may as well eat more." Or, "I am so in debt I may as well max out this credit card because I can't imagine being able to fix it." This can be the only reason I can come up with as to why some folks prefer to remain uninformed and uninvolved while often perpetuating the old stereotypes.

I used to pay little attention to some of these matters and I imagine plenty are still doing the same. I don't always stay involved. I often get discouraged and ignore things for a minute. But I always find myself inspired to some type of action again. I can only hope that you do too. In a world that has this many uninformed people, why not pay better attention and continue being inspired to do something as we celebrate this step so that we will continue to have something to be Proud of?