Gel Manicures Can Suck It

Here's my go-to home manicure that lasts almost as long (and doesn't wreck your nails)

I’m in my Dazzle Dry era.

My mom took me to get my first-ever manicure the summer before sixth grade. I recall the overwhelm of selecting a shade of OPI, then a flower decal to add to my ring fingernail. The clipping, filing, buffing, meticulous painting, the time in the dryer, trying to leave without bumping the perfect polish— I felt like a grownup.

Specifically, I felt like this kind of grown up.

Nail polish is just fun.

I love it, my kids love it (my five year old son, too— because “girl” stuff is so much more fun than “boy” stuff. See also: sequins.). I love the look of a cup of coffee or cocktail in my nicely manicured hand. And the thrill of punching your security code into an ATM with a shiny gel mani? Ah, it’s the simple pleasures.

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That first professional manicure, while it looked great, lasted a mere six seconds.

Artificial nails are nothing new (apparently, they were wearing versions made of bone and ivory in Egypt hundreds of years ago), and acrylics were invented in the 1950s. From then until, hmmm, maybe 2009, we nail folks were either faced with paying for and maintaining a full acrylic set ($60, plus tip, and upkeep every two weeks, not to mention quick nail salon pop-ins to get a broken one fixed), or using the regular ol’ stuff that took forever to dry and chipped at the cracking of a Diet Coke.

And then: Gel. Or Shellac. Or No-chip.

No matter what they called it in your area, the nail salon’s drop-tile ceiling parted, the acetone fumes evaporated, the massage chair transitioning from aggressive tapping (the worst setting!) to a slow knead. Finally: the indestructible heft of acrylics, without gluing fake nails on top of natural ones.

I opted for my first gel manicure before joining my then-boyfriend/now-husband’s family for Thanksgiving. Knowing I’d be doing lots of dishes (want your future in-laws to like you? Do the dishes.) I said, Sure, why not?

Forty-five bucks later (plus tip), I left the salon admiring my shiny, lacquered nails that took mere moments to dry. I’d waited my entire life for nails like this: short enough to do things like type and wipe, but shiny and chip-free. I felt put together, like one of those rich ladies who wears white pants at the airport. Hello, world, I have arrived!

Fact: If you travel in an outfit like this, your bank account has at least seven zeros.

The feeling lasted about 10 days (even after scrubbing all those dishes!). And then, the polish started lifting. I peeled off a long strip, exposing my natural. Except in the place of my formerly healthy, strong nails, I found a scuffed up, flaking bed of sadness.

A peeling gel manicure is like a can of Pringles: Once you pop, you can’t stop.

I promised myself I’d have the polish professionally removed after work (either soaked in acetone and removed, or via dremel). I sat on my hands to keep from picking. But then I felt the corner lifting juuuuust a little on my pinky.

Ok, I’ll pick just this one, I bargained with myself, but then I’ll quit.

Of course, I didn’t stop, and by the time I arrived at the salon, my once glorious mani looked like diseased tree bark, my nails aching from losing their top layer (or two). However… $45 (plus tip!) and an hour later, they looked perfect.

And so the vicious cycle began.

Perfect nails for 10-14 days, followed by fighting a primal urge to not pick, fail miserably, ruin nails, get another manicure.

Sure, I liked my nails after every manicure, but getting back to the salon started feeling less like self-care and more like a chore. This went on for years. Sometimes, I’d let my natural nails breathe, but ope! a vacation or the holidays or a magical hour of free time would open up and BAM! I’d be right back at the nail salon, “treating myself.”

And then after my second pregnancy, my nails really took a nose dive. I kept returning to the nail salon with splitting, brittle, pathetic nails that could barely hold polish. Tim, the owner, told me, Maybe you should take a break. When the nail salon owner tells you it’s time for a break, it’s probably been time for awhile.

So, I did.

It’s been years since I went for a gel manicure (or dip— tried that method, too). I still get gel pedicures, but those last so much longer and don’t require the same upkeep.

In the words of Carrie Bradshaw, I couldn’t help but wonder:

Why did I spent so much time and money on something that ended up being so stressful and destructive?

If a mysterious benefactor offered me a monthly stipend of $90 (plus tip!) and told me I could spend it on any kind of “self-care,” I’d absolutely, 1000-percent, without hesitation pick a massage.

A massage requires making a future appointment, adding it to your calendar, declaring to yourself and others that you are setting aside time and money to do something to care for yourself.

Honestly (and how does this even make sense???), I think I opted for regular manicures because I only sort of liked them. Popping in for a manicure doesn’t require much planning. Most places take walk-ins. You can kind of sneak it into your day without letting anyone know. Massages feel like something I first need to “deserve”— even if they cost about the same, money and time-wise, as two manicures.

Of course, I know many people who would never, ever give up their nail routine. You do you! It just wasn’t working for me.

Here’s what I’m doing instead: Dazzle Dry.

This four-step system takes less than 20 minutes (including dry time!), lasts for at least a week, and comes off so easily with regular polish remover. I can do it at home, while listening to a Zoom call. The starter kit (lots of colors available) is about $38 on Amazon— not cheap, but less than $45 (plus tip!) and you get many manicures from that one kit. Dazzle Dry is non-toxic, made in the USA, vegan and better yet, it works.

Have you tried Dazzle Dry? Thoughts? And… what’s the self-cafe practice you do regularly (or wish you did)?

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Thanks for joining me on my happy (mostly) little corner of the internet.

xo, Molly