Auf Wiedersehen, Good night, Peace Out!
Sadly, Maggie’s need for balance in her life means saying goodbye to her Maggie Rants blog.
A long, long time ago I took a class with Tom Holcomb. I mean, I didn't really take a class with him. I took a class that he was teaching. During the two-day class he did

A long, long time ago I took a class with Tom Holcomb. I mean, I didn't really take a class with him. I took a class that he was teaching. During the two-day class he did a lot of ranting — maybe it runs in the veins of the industry? — and one of the things he talked about was what a shame it is in our business that our professional tools are crap. Or basically, at least in the U.S., the tools of our trade don't reflect the range in choices of quality that are available in other industries. The specific example Tom gave was to look at hairstylists: They have shears that cost thousands of dollars, but the best sculpting brushes we can buy are less than a hundred bucks.
Well now, I don't know if there's really a need for a sculpting brush that costs over $100 — and I sure as heck wouldn't pay thousands for one — but his thoughts on the subject have echoed in my ears for the last 10 years or so since I took that class.
I remember, shortly after becoming a licensed manicurist, I found myself in a fancy art store in Southern California. I spied a very pretty Kolinsky sable brush in the front case — a fat size 10 (I've always loved a fat brush, but not these size 22s you can paint a barn with that are popular these days!) with a black lacquered handle and gold ferrule.
It was (cough, cough, choke, sputter) $600.
I asked the clerk why it was worth so much. She said, "It's Kolinsky sable."
I suppose it's possible that all these $20-$50 “Kolinsky” sable brushes I've been buying for the last 20 years haven't been the real deal. I suppose it's possible that they've been a blend of Kolinsky and other sable — maybe they've just been hair from your ordinary, garden-variety, American weasel. And, of course, I don't paint with my sable brushes, I sculpt acrylic. But I seriously doubt that schmancy brush in the case would have done a better job than any of the brushes I've lovingly cared for since figuring out how to do nails without wrecking a brush. (Tip #1: Buy a decent brush, but not a $600 one.)
But, yesterday, as my newest fancy sculpting brush (that cost a lot of money as sculpting brushes go) fell apart for the umpteenth time, I couldn't help but find myself wondering, if I spend $600 on a brush, will it at leaststay in one piece? Technically, I want this brush to stay in two pieces, since it's one of those nifty brushes that has a lid that doubles as the handle of the brush. Then there's the brush it replaced, which was a fancy collapsible brush that slid back inside its own handle — usually while I was trying to place a bead of acrylic. Also, quite pricey for a sculpting brush.
So my message to the manufacturers of these fancy brushes? Stop worrying about the gimmick aspect of the dang brush! Yeah, I like having a cap for my brush, that's amazingly handy. It doesn't matter if all the hairs are hand-tied by fairies who kiss each delicate strand in order to ensure that the brush will never clog if the handle keeps falling apart during use.
Or maybe Tom had a point. Maybe a really good brush costs hundreds of dollars and all these $40-$60 options are just the best manufacturers can reasonably offer because that's the most we're willing to pay?
Maybe, but I'm not ready to go out and buy a $600 brush.
Sadly, Maggie’s need for balance in her life means saying goodbye to her Maggie Rants blog.
Maggie recalls the time she tried to figure out how to dispose of her salon chemicals.
With a vacation approaching, Maggie can’t wait to put some distance between herself and the drama of the salon.
Maggie doesn’t hesitate to confront clients about past sins.
How sick is too sick for a nail appointment?
Maggie is fed up with clients who won’t get off the phone.
Maggie needs to remind herself that she has options.
Maggie is trading in one writing genre for another.
Maggie knows too much about sanitation to get excited about a strange Jacuzzi tub.
Maggie is no longer certain nails are in her long-term future.
Maggie is learning about the downside of success — scheduling is a nightmare.
Maggie contemplates the limits of her charitable impulses.
Maggie is not too keen on clients bringing in their own nail supplies.
Just because Maggie isn’t with a client doesn’t mean she’s not working.
Twenty-two years of doing nails takes a toll on the hands.
Maggie doesn’t want her product reps dropping by.
Maggie enjoys other people’s drama — up to a point.