First of all, the word “toes” is a funny one. It rhymes with nose and does. It’s a plural referring to ten digits at the end of two feet. Now, feet are more than just things we walk on; feet are also units of measure. Toes are not units of measure. They are simply things we need to stand and walk.
I’ve become something of a toe fetishist this summer. It all began in April when I put on sandals and looked at ten bare toe nails. Off to get a pedicure and have bright red polish applied by a professional who not only took care of said toe nails, but the entire foot and my calves. Massaging and scrubbing until my legs were purring with pleasure and my feet were soft as a baby’s behind. It felt so good I should say I’m a toe hedonist, but that was before color choices.
I was one of two women getting my pedicure that first spring day. I poked through fifty shades of red before deciding on one that was perfect. The woman next to me was enjoying getting coral on her toes. We chatted about how and why women chose different colors. Very enlightening, because I never choose coral (coral lipstick washes my face out), but heck, that shouldn’t apply to toes, should it? For me, it seems to. I never lean toward coral shades.
During the last pedicure, the nail salon was crammed. Every chair was filled; many more waited for polish to dry or to begin their appointments. Nail art was in full swing. Several women were having rhinestones glued to big toes; others were opting for stencils of flags, flowers, or dogs. Covering everything was a thick coat of clear varnish to keep the designs from fading.
I grew fascinated by two different approaches to making statements with nail polish. One young woman was having a French manicure, pink nail beds with white rims at the tips. She was going to a wedding and wanted fingers and toes to match. Of course, silly me for asking. The other fascinating approach involved a twelve-year-old and her mother. The child had selected ten different colors ranging from deep purple to hot yellow. I thought she couldn’t make up her mind, but no, she wanted each toe painted a different screaming color. Her mother agreed, then asked for five of the colors for herself. She started with bright yellow on her left little toe and worked her way to purple on the big toe, reversing the order on the other foot. When she left, her daughter looked like a happy neon billboard; mom looked like she was signaling someone with one purple big toe and one screaming yellow big toe.
Me? I settled for a lovely brick shade, not too bright, not too dull. A Goldilocks shade. Maybe I’ll get brave next time and opt for purple. Or not.