On Sunday I decided to get a mani/pedi, since my nice, long nails had some not-so-nice cuticle action going on. And since they were nice and long, I figured a Frenchy manicure would look v. chic. I went to a place that was close to the apt, Tenley Nails, since the online reviews sounded decent. OMFG, what a disaster.
I’m sitting in my chair, reading a book while the lil’ Asian chicky does her pedi-thing, when she asks me something. I have no fucking clue what she said. I don’t think it was English at all. She repeated herself and I still didn’t get it. 4 times I had her repeat what she said, but got squat. I think I heard “spa pedicure” but I have no idea. I pointed to the lil’ menu for what I wanted (not the spa pedicure) and she nodded. Then she rattled something else off. Another round of WTF. I just ended up nodding. I don’t usually have an issue w/ accents, but there was no cracking this one. For all I know, I agreed to marry someone.
After a quick foot massage, she started “painting”. And by painting I mean, slopping white over half the nail, tidying it up and placing ONE coat of a pinkish clear polish over that. I’m slightly annoyed, but it’s my feet. Whatevs, I probably won’t be wearing open-toed or flippys much longer anyway.
And then the mani part. She asks me something that I can’t understand again but she does, however, manage to speak clearly later on when it was, “You pay now” time. I assume she’s asking about the shape of the nails so I tell her I want them squared. Well to her squared means hauling out a clipper and hacking the nail off and then filing what’s left to a nub. It’s not like I had claws to begin with, but they were a little shorter than this pic:
Now, all my nails were reduced to being just a teeny bit above the quick. And that thick tip of white that you see on those nice nails in the pic? That globby mess gets applied to my nubs, only somehow she manages to make it look crappier than the pedicure. You know what makes the french manicure work? Having an actual nail to paint the tip onto. Otherwise, unless you do a thin white tip, it just doesn’t work. The tips look lumpy and the line isn’t even at all.
After I see the first hand, I give up on even mentioning it to her, since I already decided that I’m taking the polish off when I get home and the communication problems we’ve had don’t bode well for getting her to fix the nails. So instead of the sleek nails I was hoping for, I got french manicured nubs, that looked grubby.
I’m pretty sure that my face is showing how utterly pissed off I am, since she asked “You ok?” Yes, bitch, I’m thrilled that I wasted my afternoon with you when I could have just had a neighborhood spawn-child do the EXACT same thing to my nails w. her Bonnie Bell kit.
I get my bill, which was more than I thought it would be, which pissed me off even more. There wasn’t a line for a tip, which is just as well, since halfway thru the hacking, I decided she wasn’t getting a tip. I sit for a minute in front of a little fan drying my nails and then all my fury starts setting in. I jump up, grab my purse and march out. All the lil’ chickys are saying “be careful” as I stomp, since I might ruin my nails, I yank open the door far harder than I needed to and practically sprint out of there.
The urge to kill has rarely been that strong outside of work. I bought a tiramisu at Whole Foods to make me feel better and after nomming that I redid my nails while taking in the splendor that was Marc Singer’s jeans in the original V miniseries.
So, if you have a friend that you’re really pissed at, send her to Tenley Nails and ask for Kathy. Trust me, this is better than saying she does look fat in those jeans.
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