Every winter I take off my last coat of summer polish clinging to my toes, sit in front of a nail technician and relax as she files, massages, exfoliates and buffs the sun and sand away, exposing my toes to fresh air. When done, my toes look happy in their nakedness.
Even though my ten friends will be hiding in their cashmere sleeping bags (socks) stuffed inside a boot for four-long months, I’m happy in the knowledge they’re not smothered in tosylamide-formaldehyde resin.
It’s rare that in these cold months my toes peep through anything. But on the occasion they do get to come out and play, they love showing off in the buff. Which makes more of a statement then the most extreme nail art ever could.