“Gossip Girl” may be over, but my obsession over Blair Waldorf’s doll eyed makeup and bronzy, dewy complexion keeps on rolling. You better bet that I’ve tried the look on myself. But it didn’t look nearly as stunning on me as it did on her Chanel-clad self--she
is was a princess, after all. I’ll leave it at that. But such a makeup look isn’t the only feat that looks better on other people than it does on my obscenely normal self. Clothing, for one, is another example; I’ve learned not to look towards mannequins for inspiration. And then, there's nail polish. Being in the beauty blogger realm, I'd be restricting my repertoire if I didn't mention lacquer and cuticle oils and creams here and there. But I've recently realized that I don't mention them often.
In fact, they made their premier appearance last summer, when school was no longer in session and my surroundings changed from classroom to...my bed. Besides my bed racking a few usage hours, my summer vacation also brought more time and a more relaxed state. Nail polish takes time--time for application and extra attention (is it chipped yet?). With my hectic schedule, it's hard to squeeze in those extra worries; and I'm a perfectionist, so with the slightest chip, I'm reaching for the nail polish remover. If I really loved nail polish, though, I'd make time for it, just like my specific food preferences make time for grocery shopping--I could always just toss the list to my mom.
But nail polish oozes femininity. I haven't ever seen a man with nail polish, granted I do live in one of the most conservative states in America. And that's what I don't like about it. I'm not admitting that I'm going to throw on cargo pants (unless they're Helmet Lang, tight, and chic) and a baseball jersey, but my philosophy about beauty is to embrace the power of womanhood and accent my natural aura. I'll try to edge away from feminist lecture, but there's something unnatural about nail polish--obviously, it's not like anyone's nails glow burgundy; there's a reason my mantra is the sheerer, the better.
Even the most powerful women I know wear nail polish, though. And this circles back to my original statement: what looks good on them doesn't look good on me. And even if my mom and acquaintances insist that it's stunning, I still feel weird with mint green talons. I'm not going to sacrifice my prowess for that. So forever now, you understand why there's a lack of nail polish-related posts on Parisian To Be. Although, I'll certainly still only buy them for their stunning packaging (Essie, I'm glaring at you.). And, instead, you'll receive lectures on how to become a more powerful woman. Oh, boy....