Guest Post: The Product That Saves Dying Nails

 Beauty advice interlude: My super cool friend Debie is a makeup artist in New York, and today she was nice enough to share one of her tricks of the trade. 

Ladies-- when it comes to first world problems, we know that chipped, broken nails can be one of the worst offenses.  They snag our most delicate of clothing, ruin our favorite tights, and leave us living in fear of every soda can top.  As a former nail biter (I was one of those “I didn’t even know I was doing it and oops now my nails are bleeding” die-hard addicts), a part of me wonders if the nail gods are making me pay for my once-terrible habit with the curse of weak, brittle tips.

Fortunately for those of us not blessed with naturally fierce claws, relief is found in the form of Rejuvacote, a miracle product manufactured by Duri Cosmetics, a company operating out of Brooklyn.  This humble pink antidote has transformed my cracked and peeling nubs into healthy tips, growing stronger by the day with each slick application.  Directions suggest you apply a fresh coat daily for 7 days but I found it hard to resist applying multiple coats in one sitting to achieve a finish that’s distractingly glossy.  One brief week later and my “dying nails” might not be “to die for” as their tagline promises, but they do look and feel pretty darn good.

Rejuvacote certainly isn’t the only effective nail strengthener out there but for about $8 a pop (I purchased mine from my local Bed Bath & Beyond), it’s a much cheaper option than other strengtheners (comparable alternates are OPI Nail Envy which retails for $17 and Nail Tek Xtra which retails for $12) and infinitely more practical than indulging in a weekly manicure.  Armed with Rejuvacote and a little patience, let those fear of pop tops fade away and instead let those nails shine (literally)!

France INSTAX

So happy I dragged my Fujifilm INSTAX camera to France on our vacation.  Sure, you look like an uber tourist when you pull out this gigantic honkin' camera, but the little print-out photos are so much fun.  I love the fact that it airbrushes all your blemishes away, ha. Don't we look retro? It's like real life Instagram.

I finally learned how to hook up my new wireless printer/scanner, so I can share these photos now.  I had to chat with a Comcast representative to figure out how to change my wireless password, and it took a few representatives for me to figure it out.  My first reaction to tech conversations is always utter despondency.  "This will never, ever work," I told Joe, instantly abandoning all hope as I chatted online with someone named John Anthony from Comcast.  And I mean furiously chatted, typing a full paragraph of frustration about exactly why I was unable to change my password.

"You don't need to type all of that," Joe said.  But I wanted John Anthony to thoroughly understand where I was coming from.  "Why don't you just write, 'Yes," Joe said.

John Anthony suggested something I had already I tried.  "I knew that already," I wrote.  Throwing some shade.  I could've written "DUH" or "DOY" but I refrained.

Vacation Pix: Chamonix and Annecy

Finally posting photos from the end of our French vacay.  We spent four days or so in Chamonix, one of the birthplaces of mountain climbing.  Joe loves climbing, so this is his mecca.  Here he is in overgrown schoolboy mode, crashing a French field trip to learn about Mont Blanc.

Chamonix looked like your quintessential European skiing town, except with the addition of a Chanel store.  Every ski town has a Chanel store, right? 

Why didn't I buy one of these puppies?  Kicking myself now. Click the link below to keep reading!

One day we took the Aiguille du Midi cable car, Europe's highest cable car. I don't really like heights so I'm glad our gondola looked safer than this one!

I don't know how these climbers do it.  So intense!  Joe said climbers love Chamonix because it's really challenging, but it's not remote, so you can still go to the town and get a beer at the end of the day.

Don't worry, I'm not opening that gate for any reason.

"Open raft?"  No thanks!

I loved this little birdie and took many, many pictures of him.

In retrospect, we should've spent one more day in Paris and one less day in Chamonix.  But we kept busy.  One day we hiked on a trail to the Chalet Floria, a little cafe and garden at the end of an hour-long hike.  On our last day, we rented a car and drove to Annecy, a beautiful little town with canals that earned it the nickname "Venice of the Alps."

How pretty is this lake?  We saw swans everywhere.  They were bigger than your average toddler.

I achieved my goal of swimming in a mountain lake!  The water was freezing cold and crystal clear.

Poor Joe was allergic to the town, though.  He couldn't stop sneezing, which must not have been fun. This day trip was the only time we fought on the trip.  It's stereotypical, really.  He was driving the rental car and I was navigating.  Apparently, he didn't think that my method of saying, "Turn here," while we were going through roundabouts then pointing in a vague direction was very effective.  Then we forgot where we parked our rental "econobox" subcompact minivan.  Fun times!  

The Most Adorable / Affordable Hotel in Chamonix

So when I started researching places to stay during the Chamonix portion of our trip, I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be cool to find a super cute Design*Sponge-esque hotel that was somehow within my budget?"

Friends, I found it.  It's Le Faucigny in Chamonix. The most design-y ski chalet ever.

Glowing moose head, where have you been all my life?  I aspire to one day own that. I've already purchased one moose trophy in my lifetime: I bought my friend Roxanne a cardboard moose as a wedding present.  Didn't even know a glowing moose was an option.

Metal-tipped legs, so hot right now.

I love European breakfasts.  Nothing petit about this petit déjeuner.  I'm fairly certain they lost money on our morning meals.  We stocked up and didn't eat lunch (very American).  We ate bacon, eggs, croissants, yummy cheese, muesli, coffee, mango juice and more.  So great.

Here's the view from our room. How spectacular! My room at home looks out over a brick wall.

Paris Picture Post

I tried to count and photograph all the French bulldogs we saw.  New York Frenchies, you got nothing on the real thing.

I'm going to post more non-puppy Paris pictures behind the jump.  Follow me this way, would you?

Walking in the Tulleries made me think, "Wow, we can't even grow grass on the Mall, it's just dirt. And the French can achieve this?" I understand the idea that it's the nation's backyard, but it just looks so sad in comparison. We can aim higher.

Dachshunds this way...

How weird is this? Same font and everything? It was just a normal clothing store, not Redskins merchandise.

I tried to get Joe to buy these dropcrotch overalls for men, but no luck.

Does Rock Hair specialize in mullets?

I just like this combo, sushi + bagel.

Joe wanted me to take a picture of the most impressive parallel parking feat he'd ever witnessed.

We focused more on sightseeing than eating, but I requested that we make a special trip for lunch at Au Passage, a hip restaurant I read about in Bon Appetit.  The article was called "So You're Going to Paris and You Want to Eat Where the Cool Kids Are Eating?"  Yes, yes I do.  Turns out it was also written up in Conde Nast Traveler.  I'm sure when we walked in, they thought "Oh, here comes another Bon Appetit/Conde Nast Traveler reader." Is it that transparent?

No, they were nice to us.  And we had a mind-expanding meal for less than 18 euros a piece.  Their menu is pared down to a few items each day, which I loved as an indecisive, non-French speaker.  And the atmosphere is très Brooklyn.

Here's the menu for the day: one appetizer, a choice between two entrees, cheese plate and dessert.  We tried to each order everything but our waiter talked us out of that.  It would've been too much of a good thing.  I ordered the fish and Joe ordered an incredible deconstructed steak tartare. 

Sea salt on ganache with cherries for dessert.  Every lunch should end with this!

See this lovely display of macaroons?  Yeah, this in a McDonald's.

Macaroons at all price points...

We sat on a curb and ate falafel from the legendary L'As du Fallafel.  I love a good six euro meal.

Paris: I'm Thinking About Getting a Vespa

All spring I've been jonesing for a Vespa.  There's a cocktail at Boundary Road on H Street called "I'm Thinking About Getting a Vespa." Isn't that every urbanite's fantasy?  That's been my rallying cry for awhile.

A few months ago, my friend Andy sent me a photo text of a red Vespa with a custom license plate spelling out my last name.  He texted, "Is this yours?"

No, it wasn't.  But it could be!  Or rather, could it be a sign?  Should I get a Vespa?  The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense (if you ignore the expense and the possibility of serious injury).  I could zoom up hills without breaking a sweat.  I could avoid the weekend 20-minute wait between trains on the Metro.  I could park anywhere.  Most importantly, I could pick out a cool color for my Vespa.

When I visited Andy and Emily in Norfolk, Andy took me for a spin on his Vespa, a sleek silver model.  Here I am, gearing up for the ride:

OK, maybe a Vespa is not going to make me look cooler.  I look like a bobblehead.

Looking uneasy in this picture.

And away we go!

Emily and Andy's dog Jasper sees us off on our journey.

That's the first time I've ever been on a moped.  What a way to travel.  It didn't seem so dangerous, just fun, but then again I wasn't driving.  There's a scooter shop in Arlington near work, so one lunch hour I invited my coworker Luther to go check it out.  It turned out to be an insurance office attached to a garage, and the guy showed us around for 10 minutes.  I felt bad that I wasn't a serious buyer.  I took their literature though.  Another push towards rationalizing a scooter purchase.

Everyone had mopeds in Paris (see photos above).  Talk about living the dream.  Scooting around Paris, from flea market to bistro.  For a girl with Vespas on the brain, Paris cemented my scooter love.

I told my mom that I wanted a moped.  "No.  You're not doing that," she said.  The answer seemed final.  But I already ride a bike, I said.  Isn't that similar?  "I'll hear a report on the news about a girl in Mount Pleasant on a Vespa who got hit by a bus, and I'll know it will be you," she said.