I have a secret obsession. So secret, in fact, I’ve only recently admitted it to myself. And I’ve had this obsession since I was a moody teenager, that’s just how secret it is. So. Are you ready for this shocking revelation? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Nail polish. There, I’ve said it. I’m addicted to nail polish. (Nooooo, not like that.) I’m obsessed with the act of painting my nails; toes and fingers, the soothing ritual, the glorious colours from the subtlest of nudes to the boldest of brights.
In my teens I would layer and combine colours; glitter over royal purple, scarlet and pink on alternate fingers, dark blue and orange on each half of the same nail. These days I have less time to experiment, although I like to keep my toes in colour throughout the months when they’re on show. Fingers occasionally get a treat, but not as regularly.
If you think that’s bad, you should see my shoe collection
My hoard threatens to escape from its container, especially when I can’t resist the lure of a new colour yet can’t bring myself to throw one away in exchange. Case in point: I came home at the weekend after a visit to the hairdresser guiltily clutching my sole impulse purchase, not one but two nails inc. polishes. But they were so pretty, no?
This time however, I forced myself to downsize, and managed to throw away several, well, at least three out-of-date colours. One of which I know I’ve had since the aforementioned teenage years, a Boots 17 matte finish ivory. I loved that polish, but had to face the fact that although I will probably never be able to replace it, it’s been so well used that any attempt to apply it would end in bitter tears.
Oh, and I may have passed a couple on to Jessica, who appears to be amassing a fair collection of her own already. Look, it’s an investment, ok?