I love manicures. Wait, no, I’m addicted to manicures. The bright lovely colors on your hands, that make them oh so lovely and pretty (even mine, I have the chubby finger syndrome) are such a pick me up, especially in this beyond- the- wall winter that came and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Not that I don’t get manis in summer, then it is such a battle between the “peach daiquiri and watermelon” shades, Essie or OPI (apparently NYC salons haven’t heard of Sally Hansen etc.) mani and pedi or an indulgent pedi, choices choices. The point I’m trying to make is, that there is a bond between all the women who frequent these places and I think that comes with living in New York. The primping and pressing options abound, for all body parts with various levels of expense and indulgence, and I think that the results are most noticeable with a mani-pedi. We get these manis to feel good, match colors to our mood and feel real swell after the pampering and all for $10. What I’ve noticed about most of the women at my two fav places (Cindy’s on the UWS and QQ in the Flatiron District) is that they get these on a regular basis and all seem to own some version of the Cartier Love bracelet (google it and you will recognise it). It’s a ritual that is frequently affordable and on every block. I think there are more nail salons per block than bodegas or bank ATMS in Manhattan. I think there are 6 in the 2 blocks near my place. So in this city where one constantly equates oneself with a pauper from the Tudor era, this gratifying habit’s cheer is much appreciated and a true sign of turning into a new yorker!