To me, one of the nicest things about the end of summer is that all those nasty French pedicures will be back hidden inside a pair of closed-toe shoes where they belong. I hate them. Haaaate them. When I think Klassy with a kapital k I think French pedicures. Which, by the way, are as French as the Croissan'wich.
I understand the point of a French manicure, which for the uninitiated, is a nude to pale pinkish nail polish coat over very white tips. It's a great way to say "I miss 1997!" Or to demonstrate your solidarity for the fashion plates that are the Real Housewives of Orange County.
But on your feet? What's the point? To show everyone how long you can grow your toenails?
Let's just say if I have gone too long without cutting my nails, the last thing I want to do is draw attention to them. And certainly not with a kind of tromp l'oeuil decoration that actually ends up looking like you've got little moon-shaped toenail clippings still attached to your feet.
I have no idea why I have such a profound reaction to the look. I've tried to self-reflect and dig deep and remember whether perhaps at some point in my life I was humiliated by a mean girl sporting a French pedicure. But nope. I think I just plain hate them and am delighted to say adieu, French pedicure, don't let la porte hit you in the derierre on the way out as we head into September.
(And please Victoria Gotti, don't have me killed, okay? I'm sure it looks great on you.)
Is there a beauty trend you can't wait to see die a quick, painful death? Let's hear it...