I’m doing the unthinkable… I’m showing you my hands!!!

Well, let’s be clear. This is only my left hand.
Because I will never, and I mean NEVER show you my right hand….

Scott says that he can’t see a difference between my two hands, but that’s men for you.

I see the difference: My right hand is thicker, stronger, and my fingers are a little twisted from writing and I have a scar on one of my fingers. At the same time, my left hand, the lazy one who can’t even hold a fork properly, is a little more ready for the spotlight.
At least I hope you think so too.



The reason I’m showing it to you today is because I want to talk to you about a micro miracle.

I was doing a photoshoot on Thursday (Where I was the model again. I’ll tell you about it later. Yeah, noooooooo, what happened to fashion? What happened to the world? Why doesn’t Elite just give me a call already?)

So I’m on a shoot and the manicurist is reaching for my hands, and I make her promise not to polish them because my nails just can’t take it. It makes them split and break and fall into utter ruin.

My problem, you see, is that I am a descendant from a noble family of nail ridges. Yeah, nail ridges… Those ugly lines that make your nails look like corrugated iron. Yeah, I’ve had those since I was 12, like my mother, like my grand-mother, and like my great-great grandmother before her.
Thanks guys.

And that’s why the girls at the nail spas have a field day with polishing mine, rub rub rub until the nail is nice and shiny… But unfortunately, they are as thin as Rizla+ paper. All you have to do is wait for the polish to go away for them to be totally ruined.

So back to my destiny of being an internationally renowned top-model, the nail person looks at me with a big smile and gets to work.

I see her put some sort of not so pretty matte polish on them and she says, “Ridge filler! For the lines!”

I smile, but I’m not believing it.

It’s only when it finally dries (and that I am standing by the catering stand, doing what I like to do most on shootings = eating all the catering) that I take a look at my hands and realize there isn’t a single ridge. I get back to marathon mode in the makeup trailer and can’t find my nail person, who has left with all her magic products.

Now. I’ve been looking all over for the brand of the ridge filler. I’ll find it. I’ll tell you all about it.

(Okay, so truth is that I’m sure most of you know a million good ridge fillers and that I’m getting to the ridge filling scene three years late… But send me your favorite brands!!!)


PS: Even if I always push my left hand in the spotlight, deep down inside, it’s my right hand that I love. I like what it says about my life and my work. I like how strong it is. But as soon as it comes time to show a hand, I’m pulling out my left! Get out there you lazy left hand, go!

What about you? How do you like your hands? Do you have a favorite one?

Translation : Tim Sullivan