THEY say there is no place like home. For me, there is also no place like a good (Croydon) nail shop.
Men will never understand or know the agony of childbirth, menstrual cramps or taking off glitter nail polish. Therefore, I don't expect The Man to truly understand that a good nail shop is a must in my life.
Sitting in a row, hunched over our hands, us nail addicts enjoy nothing more than sharpening our claws and beautifying our fingers. It's a place where us cuticle obsessed women get to relax for a bit. No multitasking, no interruptions just nail maintenance heaven. Add in a sprinkle of natter about all things female and plenty of coffee. Bliss.
The only worry being what colour to choose; so many nail polishes not enough fingers, that is the sort of stress I can handle. From hair removal to coil fitting there's no topic that can't be discussed; in fact the more controversial the better.
A woman is helpless only when her nail polish is drying - a bit like a tank having an oil change.
With that in mind… it is no place for any man – that is unless they have a buffer in their hand and can polish without going over the edges.
I suppose it is the equivalent to a male barber shop. A place where they gather and talk about blokey things like gadgets, food and how much they love the Hulk. I assume from what little experience I have had of these places there is also a fair bit of silence and grunting too. Very unlike the nail shop.
Take today for example. I headed there straight from work. There had been an argument between a filing cabinet and my third nail in on the left, leading to an urgent repair being required. I had attempted to save her but it was no good, she had snapped….then I snapped.
As I enter I am greeted warmly by the lovely staff. I have been coming to the same place since my addiction to acrylic started at 18 - 13 years ago! Very nostalgic for me, very lucrative for them. If I was ever to sit down and work out the grand total I have spent over the years it would probably make me choke on my coffee.
Sitting at one of the window tables, my lady starts her magic on the broken fighter. Within the hour I have a fresh set of claws, enough coffee in my system to keep me going for a week and enough helpful tips on life to write a book. I wave goodbye for another few weeks.
I am struggling to end on a non cheesy line but I can't help myself.
They nailed it! Literally.
