A month ago, I sat at my kitchen table fumbling with tin foil, cotton balls, and acetone, attempting to remove my gel manicure at home. It was a process I’d watched nail technicians perform countless times before but never one I’d tried myself. If you’ve ever had a gel manicure, you know the removal process is meticulous and time-consuming—which is exactly why most people pay someone else to do it.
Normally, I would have headed straight to the nail salon. But I had just lost my job, and suddenly even a routine manicure removal felt like an unnecessary expense. After hours of filing, soaking, and scraping away flakes, I finally arrived at the sight of my bare nails.
Technically, my break from the nail salon had started months earlier. In January, I decided to take a hiatus from gels after a season of holiday nail art left my nails weak and brittle. But what began as a temporary reset quickly became something more permanent when rumors of operational changes began circulating at the company where I worked. With my job in jeopardy, I cut out all unnecessary expenses.
Ironically, I made my first and only exception of the year for a work event. Breaking my four-month bare-nail streak, I got a gel manicure. A week later, I got laid off. I took the cruel timing as a sign: It was time to quit the nail salon for good.
In my layoff panic, I never thought of my bare nails as anything other than a financial decision. But during a recent scroll through my Instagram feed (bare nails and all), I came across a viral video from content creator Valeria Lipovetsky. In the video, Lipovetsky shared with her 2 million followers that she had recently stopped getting manicures and was now exclusively wearing her bare nails.
“I don’t know who needs to hear this, but my life quality has improved substantially since I stopped doing my nails,” Lipovetsky said in the video. “The amount of brain capacity I now have not thinking about my next appointment, if my nails are looking bad, if something is broken. Are you joking me? Life hack.”
Lipovetsky’s video sparked conversation around class, wealth, and identity. While some creators agreed with Lipovetsky, others took issue with her take, accusing her of trying to make bare nails a trend and “status symbol” of the wealthy and erasing the cultural significance of manicures in marginalized communities.
As I watched this online debate unfold, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration. For starters, completely bare, unmanicured nails should not be confused with the popular “clean girl” aesthetic that’s taken over nail trends in recent years. Minimalist manicures like soap nails and BB-cream nails still require costly maintenance and upkeep, even if they’re meant to look effortless.
When I sat at my kitchen table after losing my job, painstakingly scraping gel polish from my fingernails, I wasn’t making a statement about wealth, minimalism, or beauty trends. My bare nails aren’t a status symbol, a trend, or something to aspire to. They’re simply the result of a reality many people are facing: I can no longer justify spending money on professional manicures.
My experience is hardly unique: A survey among friends and colleagues found plenty of real and practical reasons for going bare—whether money-related or due to changing priorities. For many, bare nails aren’t an aesthetic choice at all. They’re just life.
Gabrielle, 30, a teacher in Baltimore, Maryland, quit her biweekly SNS gel manicures two years ago after it became an obstacle in the classroom. “I was trying to write on chalkboards or teach science, doing an experiment, or I was at field day, and my nails would break,” she says. “It just kept happening, and it was so frustrating. It kind of got to a point of, like, ‘Who am I even doing this for?’”
It’s a question content creator Vivian Tu explored during a recent episode on the podcast Hot Smart Rich. Tu, a content creator who gives financial advice via her Instagram account Your Rich BFF, agreed with Lipovetsky’s comments, adding that regular manicures are not only financial investments but also major time investments. “There are things in your life that you are saying yes to just because it feels like the right thing to do,” says Tu. “That’s where you are dollar-dribbling. And you’re not getting any value out of that. You’re not deriving any joy out of that. So be surgical about it.”
Christine, a 35-year-old speech pathologist, quit her regular UV gel extensions at the end of last year after she noticed her natural nails had become “paper-thin.” Ultimately, her choice to quit manicures and go bare came out of concern for her health and well-being.
“When I decided to stop, my nail tech told me, ‘Are you really sure you want to take these off? Your nails are going to be so brittle.’ I was like, Yeah, girl, that’s the whole point,” she says. “It really is a vicious cycle, and I felt trapped. I think that’s the key, feeling like you don’t have to have them done 24/7. You can free yourself if you want to.”
While it’s no secret that women can oftentimes feel pressure to subscribe to specific beauty standards, manicures also carry important nuances that can’t be simply written off. “In the Black community, nails are very important. You see all these very elaborate, carefully planned-out nails. Time and effort go into that. I was very into that routine, because it was part of my look,” says Gabrielle. “But nails can be taken in such a context, the same way that hair gets taken in such a context. There are so many ways to be and exist, and there are so many ways to care for yourself.”
Although embracing your bare nails definitely comes with a sense of freedom, I couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. As a beauty editor, I’ve spent years wearing beautiful colors and trendy nail designs. Not to mention, I’m constantly attending industry events and surrounded by people wearing everything from Japanese gel to lengthy acrylics. Would anyone notice or care about my bare nails?
My concern quickly went away after I reflected on how much I’m truly paying attention to other people’s fingers. Of course, I’ll sometimes notice a cool nail design, but other than that, most manicures go pretty much over my head.
It’s a lesson writer and editor Anna, 36, also learned after quitting her regular gel manicures three years ago. After welcoming twin babies, she realized regular salon visits no longer made sense for her lifestyle and budget. “In my early 20s, I fell into this trap where I felt like I always needed to have my nails done,” says Anna. “People are not thinking that hard about your nails because the biggest takeaway of aging, for me, is that no one actually notices or cares what you’re doing.”
Even when I’m financially stable again, I won’t go running back to the salon. My bare nails, which once looked so foreign, are so normal to me now that getting a manicure almost feels disruptive. For a special occasion like a wedding, I might consider it. I know the option will always be there.
Just like any other part of your body, what you do with your nails is ultimately your choice. “Even my mom, the person in my life most likely to tell me to get my shit together, has never said anything about me having bare nails, and she gets her nails done regularly,” adds Anna. “She doesn’t care.” And neither should you.
The biggest takeaway from the bare-nails conversation isn’t an aesthetic trend or beauty statement. It’s giving yourself permission to opt out of routines, expectations, and expenses that no longer serve you.
Ariana Yaptangco is a New York-based writer and editor covering beauty, culture, and entertainment. She previously held staff positions at Glamour and ELLE. You can follow her on Instagram @arianayap.
