I'm in Love I'm in Love and I Don't Care Who Knows it

OK, maybe I should back up. Here's a little Kate History. Pre-teen Kate was obsessed with nail polish. I hit middle school in the mid-nineties right when it became hip to wear funky colors like blue and purple instead of those boring old pinks and reds. (Note: it was also hip to wear floral velvet shirts and overalls. Just sayin.) Being without income, except for my measly allowance and whatever I earned from babysitting gigs, $3 bottles of nail polish were kind of all that was in my budget. Places like Claire's and Limited Too turned me into a nail painting monster.

I used to change the color nightly to match my outfit for the next day. How I had time to do this is beyond me. I must have fit it in between reading Seventeen magazine and busying my parents' phone line talking to boys or talking to my friends about boys. Man. 12 was tough.

Anyway, throughout the years my love affair with nail polish soured some. Possibly because I no longer had time to paint three coats and then fan my fingers out in front of me while chatting up some pre-pubescent on the land line. In the later years I spent my time actually seeing boys, and then going to college. And drinking beers. It's pretty tough to open a can of Keystone with wet nails.

Which brings me to my second point. I'm apparently too A.D.D. to sit down for 15 minutes and let those bitches dry. They're smudged before I can even apply the clear coat. Perhaps part of my problem is that I have less disposible income then I did at 12, and I'm still using the same bottles of purple passion and denim blue that I bought in the 6th grade. That is, until last night.

I had some time, and some really heinously plain toenails, so I gave myself a nice french pedi. But alas, about the same time I ran out of chardonnay, I realized I was completely without clear coat. A trip to the store was necessary.

So I roamed the aisles, searching for some quick dry clear polish that I could slap on my toes before I had time to fuck those suckers up. And then I saw it. A deep blue that was calling to me with the voices of angels. It glowed before me like the holy grail. It was dark and matte (which Cosmo tells me is very in these days. That may have been a few issues back though. I lose track.) and once applied, I'd learn was the perfect New York Yankees navy. And it was on sale. Snag.

Now, usually I pick up whatever cheap crap Rimmel or Wet and Wild is throwing at me on impulse. Sure, I know the value of OPI, but I'm not spending 12 bucks on a bottle of nail polish, no matter how chip proof and bad ass it may be. But this shit was only like four dollars. Four dollars of perfection.

It's a new creation from Sally Hansen- Complete Salon Manicure- and the name is accurate. The brush was a thing of wonder, large enough to paint a nail in two swipes, and somewhat flat and curved and structured to go on straight and smooth. And guess what! That shit dried hard and tough before I even had time to destroy my handiwork (ha, handiwork, get it?). Love love love.

Needless to say, I will be returning to the store to pick up some more, even if it means I'm eating Ramen for the next week to pay for my newest addiction. I'm even gonna grab some for SML, who has been using the same shade and style of Mabelline for the last 20 years. If I can persuade her to switch, we know we have a winner.