The Nail Diaries

I was in ninth grade when the Chanel Vamp craze hit.

This is a very tender age to release something that cool onto a population. So I did what any rational fourteen year old girl would do.

Begged, pleaded, screamed and cried.

Let's just say there was no way my mother was going to let me plunk down $15 (it was a lot back then!!) on a nail polish that she said made me look like I slammed my fingers in a car door. Buying the Revlon knockoff was also totally out of the question. Girls at a New York prep school can spot a fake coming from a mile away.

So I was forced to resort to extreme measures. I asked my grandmother.

My grandmother is pretty hip lady. She introduced me to the beauty floor at Bendel's when I was a wee one, waiting patiently as the mohawked artists at MAC painted my face (Digit eyeshadow remains a sentimental favorite) and has put one Hermes scarf per year from her collection on permanent loan to me.

So when I told her that I HAD to have the Vamp, she responded that she thought it was very chic and sent me on my way.

The years have passed, and I have mitgrated from Chanel's Vamp, to Hard Candy Trailer Trash (the most perfect silver, circa 1996), to Urban Decay in Gash (a deep sparkly red, for freshman year of college), to Sephora 06 (a classic red, picked up during the semester abroad in Paris) to Essie Ballet Slippers (first job in New York).

I've stuck it out with the pale pinks and creams for a while now, and I'm thinking it might be time to mix it up.

New York Magazine (and numerous others) have declared that black is back, baby, and Chanel is in on the act.

Behold Black Satin.

I think it's time to take my grandmother shopping again.

Finally!!! Picture courtesy of nymag.com