Never before have our hands – and fingertips - been pulled into such high definition focus. Between constant scrolling curated posting, our digits are under more scrutiny than ever. Nail salons are edging coffee shops out of the social spotlight and booking a manicure now feels as routine as ordering our morning double-venti macchiato. But has this accessibility ushered in a new era of aesthetic pressure? Television presenter, broadcaster and writer Angela Scanlon talks about opting out of these ‘invisible expectations’ and the power of reclaiming her time.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about nails lately, which feels like a deeply unserious way to be spending my one wild and precious life. And yet, here we are. For years, my nails were always done. Gel, shellac, BIAB; whatever acronym the beauty industrial complex was pushing that month, I was signed up without question. Not because I particularly loved them, or because they felt like self-expression or creativity or even pleasure. I didn’t sit in the salon chair thinking, this is me. I sat there thinking, ‘this is what you do’.
Somewhere along the way, without ever consciously agreeing to it, having your nails done became a requirement. Not a choice or a treat, but part of the baseline maintenance of being a woman who “looks after herself”. It slipped into the same mental category as brushing your teeth or owning a decent coat - not optional, not expressive, just expected.
When ‘done’ became default
I remember working in New York years ago and being genuinely struck by how universal manicures were. Every woman, everywhere, with immaculate, glossy nails. It felt corporate, almost. Nails as uniform. A small but potent signal that you were competent, polished, in control of your life. That wasn’t really how I grew up. In much of Europe, manicures were occasional. A treat. Something you did for a wedding or a holiday, not a default setting of womanhood. But over time, that distinction blurred. What was once optional quietly became standard, and what was standard became unquestioned. Recently - as I’ve been doing with a lot of things in my life - I started asking myself a deceptively simple question: why? When is a ‘habit’ actually an obligation?
This isn’t an anti-nails manifesto. If nail art is your thing, if you genuinely enjoy the ritual, the colours, the tiny canvases on your hands, this isn’t about you. That’s expression. That’s joy. That’s choice. But if you’re doing it because you’ve absorbed the idea that it’s the bare minimum requirement to be seen as put-together, professional or feminine enough, then I think it’s worth pausing.”
Taking back time
“Every other week, I was giving up an hour and a half - sometimes two - to get there, sit there, pay for it and schedule my life around it. Two hours, twice a month, for something I felt largely indifferent about. I am a busy woman. I have work I care about, things I want to create, people I love deeply and a life I’m actively trying to live. And at some point, it landed properly: why was I donating this much time, money and mental energy to something that gave me very little in return?
© Getty ImagesThe health part
“What surprised me most, was that this decision wasn’t just emotional or philosophical. There were practical considerations too. While research is still evolving, there’s growing evidence that frequent gel and shellac manicures aren’t entirely benign. UV or LED lamps used to cure polish contribute to skin ageing on the hands and may slightly increase skin cancer risk over time - low-level, yes, but cumulative. Gels thin the nail plate, leaving nails brittle and prone to peeling, often creating the very problem they promise to solve.
Then there’s chemical exposure. Many nail products contain endocrine-disrupting chemicals, such as phthalates and formaldehyde derivatives, which have been linked in some studies to hormonal disruption. The long-term effects aren’t fully understood, and I’ve reached a point in my life where I’m not especially interested in being a test subject. Add to that the dependency loop - weak nails leading to gel nails leading to weaker nails - and it starts to look less like self-care and more like a closed circuit that capitalism absolutely loves.”
Going bare
“Letting my nails just be nails again has been unexpectedly liberating. They’re short. They’re imperfect. They chip sometimes. They look like the nails of someone who uses her hands - someone who cooks, types, gestures wildly, lives. But more than how they look, it’s what I got back that surprised me most. Sunday afternoons that weren’t booked out weeks in advance. Money that stayed in my pocket. A recurring calendar slot I hadn’t realised was quietly draining me. A small but meaningful amount of mental bandwidth. In a culture that constantly tells women to add more - more maintenance, more optimisation, more effort - there is something quietly radical about choosing to do less. This isn’t really about nails. Bare nails are just the symbol. It’s about questioning the invisible labour we perform without ever formally consenting to it. The maintenance we inherit and continue, not because it serves us, but because it’s what’s always been done. I’m giving up performing womanhood for external approval, treating my time as endlessly available, and confusing maintenance with self-worth. This year isn’t about taking more on. It’s about subtraction. About asking why, making space and choosing where my energy actually goes. Bare nails aren’t the point. Freedom is.
For more toxic perfectionism wisdom from Angela, (as well as her monthly faves) read her Substack here
