Don’t believe everything you read.

On the plane to San Francisco last week, I read an O Magazine blurb that canary yellow would be the next big nail polish color. This snippet pleased me as I happen to be quite fond of the color yellow. And I am headed to NYC this Friday for my dear friend Julie’s book signing in The Village. I could afford to be a little trendy.

So I arrive back to the East Coast and scoot off to the nail place where I boldly choose a bottle of brilliant yellow. I think it had the words “lemonade stand” in its name. If that wasn’t warning enough, the single raised eye brow from my regular nail lady, Lan, along with a “You shaaw?” should have been. But it looked so sunny in the magazine, I went for it. I had my doubts with the first coat, then the second, but sometimes it takes a while to warm up to a color (and I’m such a zero confrontation person, I wouldn’t think of troubling her to redo my nails). So I wore it home.


It looked like I had scurvy. Or a fungus (my Mom offered this). Dave thought it looked like a cartoon character that had to pee so bad her toenails turned yellow. At best, my toe nails looked like the Halloween costume paste-ons that come free with the purchase of every death mask. Both the boys offered “golden” as an interpretation but remember they are talking to the lady who drives them to the Dairy Queen after dinner.

The yellow lasted two days. I couldn’t stand myself any longer and rushed out last night for a polish change (at another nail salon of course). Went for the traditional OPI red. Sigh. Much better.


Of course I fully expect to see every young fashionista in Manhattan wearing “lemonade stand” on their toes on Friday. I will try not to point at them and yell “scurvy toes!”

Though you all know that is what I will be thinking.

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