un petite gauche
Leave it to Vogue to make me want something so horrifically tacky. In the May issue, Sally Singer writes
Now, with a little frown, she had embarked on the smile--the white tip that gives the French Manicure its edge. Or, if you listen to most modern women, its ergh. For if there is one beauty move that at a stroke (make that two strokes of whitish varnish) will put you in the company of Carmela Soprano, Jenna Jameson, and soccer wives, it's la manicure francaise as it's never called in France, possibly because in France nobody wears it, unless they're Russian...
My nails looked absolutely perfect and strangely indestructible. For a week, I texted and tapped keys, pulled up tights, fidgeted with hooks and eyes, washed dishes, and opened soda cans. My life was messy and busy, but my nails were pristine and serene.
