A love letter to my nail salon 💌

On the pure magic of being a woman

Yep, you read that right. This is a love letter to my nail salon. Bear with me.

I’ve been going to the exact same place for eight years, pretty much ever since I moved to Tunbridge Wells. The ownership has changed over that time, but I’ve been seeing my current manicurist for almost three years (she and her partner now run the place) and she has never, ever failed me.

The beauty of going back to the same place, and the same technician, for several years? She knows. She knows exactly how I like my nails, down to the precise length, the shape, even my preferred brand of gel polish. She knows the colours I always go back to, my aversion to vigorous foot scrubbing because I have extremely ticklish feet, the mango hand cream that I love the smell of.

YES, it’s a luxury. No, it’s not in any way essential to my wellbeing. But it does make me feel really, really good. I get to be pampered for 40 minutes, chat about inane sh*t to my lovely nail lady, watch the world go by as she buffs and files and paints. I arrive with all the intricacies and stresses and logistics of my day weighing on my shoulders, and I leave with fresh nails, a full phone battery (she always plugs it in for me) and a renewed sense of self-confidence and faith in the good of the world.

I love the low, soothing hum of background noise in a salon. I love striking up a conversation with a fellow customer, putting the world to rights about colour choices and gel vs biab and other terrible nail salons we’ve tried and would never return to. Only in a high street nail place could you forge a fleeting connection with a stranger from twin pedicure chairs, a common ground that would simply not exist in any other environment.

The freedom of an unapologetically feminine space, the joy of injecting a little creativity and colour into a day that might otherwise feature nothing but life admin and school pick ups and food shops, is all part of the allure for me. The salon is a space in which our lives are condensed into ‘how are you’s and ‘do you have any holidays planned this year?’ In this place, the most important decisions are based purely on colours, shapes, vibes.

Nobody here knows or cares about what I do for a job, my relationship status, where I live, how often I work out (never. The answer is never.) We’re there to invest in ourselves, to be looked after, to find refuge from whatever is going on in our lives for just a few short minutes.

It’s a relatively small luxury in the grand scheme of things, but its impact on my life, on how I feel about myself and the world around me, is gargantuan.

I love my nail salon. I could probably save hundreds of pounds a year if I stopped going, but what I would save in cash will never be as valuable as the sense of femininity, indulgence, sisterhood that I feel when I step inside its doors.

What a privilege to be able to incorporate meaning and ritual into our everyday lives, alongside the very ordinary but equally important self care that involves pairing up the socks from the washing basket, or lighting the fancy candle just because, or taking off your bra as soon as you get home.

Thank you for reading my personal War & Peace on the magic of nail salons 😂 if you liked it, please leave me a comment!