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.

Oh...the crazies!

There are many times in life that reality is just so kooky that no writer could possibly invent the characters that I encounter on my various jobs here in NYC. Working at the Compusa on 5th Avenue (promoting AOL) has always been what I will refer to as an adventure, so as to cleverly conceal some of my bitter sweet feelings for it. Located in the heart of midtown, entirely too close to the Empire State building, you encounter one of 2 types of people here...the foreign folk, and the crazies. There are a lot of both in midtown, where they walk in all directions at once, none aware that there are hundreds of other human beings anywhere near them..changing their already indirect directions instantly running into you, stepping on you, keeping you contstantly on guard to dodge them, or stand your ground and run into them. Just the foreign folks, the crazies, and me. Perhaps it is best that these folks just bump into you and keep moving, for when they stop, and talk to you...you enter a world that not just anyone can handle. I talk to these people. I listen to them. Not generally on the street, but while working my various jobs. It took me a while to realize that while there shouldn't be any harm in this, they can often drain the life out of you at the same time as they tickle your brain when you realize that this is a real person standing in front of you, talking nonsense. When you stand in one place in a retail store every day or every weekend, these crazies always know where to find you again. I have met so many but right now all I can recall is yesterday. I met a filthy looking lady yesterday here at the store. She was very sweet. She was missing her two front teeth which were framed by the bright red lipstick smeared around her mouth. She had a tragically uneven skin tone, made moreso by the streaks of concealer or foundation strewn about her face. Her eyeliner appeared to have been applied heavily before her head had, perhaps, been held under water for a spell. Her hair seemed plastered to her head, with a slight frizz, and coated in some sort of glycerine-like liquid that was at some point dripping down her temples, but whose thickness had stopped it on it's way . Too thick to be sweat I wondered if she had applied glue? The topping on the cake is a toss up between the swirls of red lipstick that had somehow been spread faintly around her entire face and the numerous whiskers on her chin. She was a sight to behold. I approached her in my section without realizing all of her uniqueness, but once we began, I was involved...and had little way out. So we chatted. I learned she was an actress and she showed me her headshot and resume, a postcard sized copy of a picture she said had been taken on a cellphone, of her standing on a NY city street in front of a subway station, looking like a homeless person with bright red lipstick on. On the back was her resume, which boasted film/tv/commercial credits that my resume can't hold a candle to. Some credits were scribbled in and all was on the back of this postcard/cellphone picture. I offered to take her picture here (one of the parts of the area I am to get people to interact with). She seemed as though I caught her off-guard and she wasn't necessarily at her best, but we gave it a go. She saw the first shot and whipped out her makeup bag saying she needed to touch up her face. The first thing she grabbed was her tube of whore-red lipstick, which she not-so-expertly applied without a mirror. Instantly it began to bleed out into the lines and sweat on her face, on a path towards joining the rest of the "lipstick party" already in full swing on her forehead, cheeks and chin. Then she grabbed her foundation and swiped her finger in it and proceeded to draw lines around her face, poorly attempting at blending it while asking "do I look alright?". I can't answer that! Lying is physically painful to me. I couldn't even begin to point out all of the things that would have required fixing. The most helpful thing I could have offered would be a sponge and a bucket, but this was not an option. She was now looking in a mirror, and if she couldn't tell that she didn't look okay by seeing what I was seeing, what was the point in trying to fix it? Lastly she took out the eyeliner observing in the mirror as she rubbed the dull pencil around both eyes. "do I look alright?" she asked again, smoothing back her glue-y hair and smiling her no-front-teeth smile. "yes, yes you do." I said, pinching back my amusement and wincing at the pain for the untruth. She wasn't ever pleased with her photo, yet she had plans to go to kinkos to copy it and use it for her acting work. A few minutes later when she sat down at the public free internet computers we have here, I cringed as I watched her dirty hands smearing the left over brown foundation all over the keys and mouse. I couldn't wait until she left to wipe it down, but these computers are very popular and I never had a chance...several people cleaned it off with their own hands. Ew. Ew.