There’s something really intimate about nail varnish. I don’t know if it’s the association with going out and partying, the colours or the thought that each nail has been carefully shaped, prepared and painted.
Painting your nails is one of those activities that, until you live with someone, is an unseen activity. The sort of thing that girls do before they go out with you. It’s one of those mysterious processes, like applying makeup and shaving their legs that you are aware of as a man but never see as part of your everyday life until you cohabit.
By comparison a man’s grooming routine is so perfunctory as to be almost nonexistent.
Colour is an important part of nail varnish. I have a slight obsession with colours which apparently may stem from my synaesthesia. I look at a colour and break it down into its component parts in a way that could be thought of as somewhat peculiar. I like to look on it as a deeper appreciation of visual stimulus. LOL
Whatever the reason and the mechanism behind the creation of a set of well groomed nails I appreciate them. Not too long, though I like to feel them on my skin, nicely filed skilfully painted so they’re nice and shiny.
I think I’ve just discovered I have a nail fetish.