When I was at the nail salon yesterday, I was watching the all the technicians work. This is always a fraught space for me, because as much as I love having someone else tend to my toenails, part of me feels that when I'm in the chair getting a pedicure, I am one step away from lying on a Roman couch, being fanned and fed grapes by conquered Dacians. I know. I have that feeling but I also know the forty-seven things that could be said to counter it. Anyway, that's not what I came to say.
I was watching them work and it made me think about how my sister-in-law Kate used to work at Origins. Though, as I've mentioned before, saying she worked at Origins is like saying Michelangelo worked at the Sistine Chapel. She is a genius with makeup and skincare, and she sold it like hotcakes because she truly cares about it and about helping people look good. I swear it's her spiritual gift. Now she's a therapist and it's really like she's just pursuing the same vocation in a different form.
Once she was trying out a new makeup product on me, and she remarked that, in the store, when you're showing a person how to apply makeup, you never touch her face with just one hand. Always use two hands. That beyond the practical need to steady your hands for what you're doing, touching someone's face with one hand is disrespectful.
I thought about it and it seems totally true. The one-handed touch communicates something totally different from a two-handed touch. Don't you think?
Then I thought about how, in some cultures, it's rude to reach out for something offered to you with one hand. You show your appreciation by taking the thing--a gift, a business card, food--with two hands. This might not be as codified in our culture as it is in, say, Japan, but I'm wondering if we think this way and follow this rule without realizing it?
I was having these thoughts and then I noticed that the woman next to me was getting a really strange pedicure with a crackle finish. Have you seen this? First they put a coat of white polish on, and then a coat of color, which crackled and showed the white underneath. That drove all other thoughts from my brain except how to twitter it as soon as possible. Then I couldn't stop staring at her feet.
Happy Sunday, sweetses.