Day 1: Chica-Go-Get-a-Manicure

OPI Chica-Go-Get-a-Manicure

There’s something magical about the first big city you live in. I came to Chicago for my undergrad, and found it to be invigorating, terrifying, raw, and somehow, intimate. The winters were cold enough to kill, but the summers would woo me back. Chicago had two seasons: Hot and Freezing. My roommate and I shared a large, windowless apartment hidden above Gentry, a smoky gay bar that had a musical theatre open-mike night on Sundays. I sang there once. The boys were darling, and awfully supportive. Across the street was this hole-in-the wall nail salon. When I needed a luxurious pick-me-up, I would head over there for a mani/pedi. The first time I went, the ladies asked me to choose a color from the wall. There were so many choices, but I kept coming back to the same purplish/pinkish OPI bottle. I picked it up and red the label: Chica-Go-Get-a-Manicure. I found out later that OPI was doing a special collection for the musical “Chicago,” but at the time it seemed to be an omen of good fortune. Truly this was a city where I belonged.

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One Response to Day 1: Chica-Go-Get-a-Manicure

  1. Roger says:

    I love your blog (especially the masthead). Keep it coming!
    -Roger

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