When I came home for my first college vacation I had arranged with my brother that I could stay in his new girlfriend’s (now wife and mother of the great Jakob) flat for the two months. Xenia was mainly with him anyhow and the times she was home we got on fabulous. We had fun days together when we put mud packages on our thighs and wrapped them in cling wrap to fight cellulite (I even think there might be photographic proof hidden somewhere), and cooked rice, which was all we could manage when my brother wasn’t around and we wanted to be healthy. Usually we could be found on her brown 70s leather couch in the otherwise empty lounge though, eating Joey’s pizza, drinking red wine and talking about boys. The boy talk got a bit problematic at times as she was obviously talking about my brother. There are certain things a sister doesn’t need to and in fact should never know.
Xenia was great though and everything my 21 year old me ever wanted to be. She worked as a stylist back then, always wore really cool clothes, was happy to share her closet and wisdom and even hired me as her assistant to style a music video. We had a blast and even thought it was a cheesy song, everyone loved it in the summer of 2001 and it was played everywhere.
I guess it was at least catchy, because even weeks later I had the strong urge to adjust someone’s collar when it came on at a club.
The other thing we shared was the very girly past time activity of painting nails in each other’s company. Xenia introduced me to a L’Oreal colour which could best be described as orange/coral red and vaguely resembles the colour of this font. She would disagree as for her it was a distinct L’Oreal shade and irreplaceable once they discontinued it. I disagreed with her and have been on a mission ever since to proof her wrong. Over time his led to quite an assortment of nail polishes.
The picture doesn’t do the scenario justice as I forced myself to throw some old bottles out the other day.
A few weeks ago I took out my nail polish bag, apparently it is quite dark in there, and grabbed my newest purchase. Or so I thought. I was getting a bit suspicious when the paint came out gooey. That was a new nail polish?? Then I looked again and I realized that the new bottle was still in the baggy, untouched and wrapped. I lined all 7 bottles of red nail polish up and realized they all of the exact shade of orange/coral red. ALL THE SAME. I swear. It seems that whenever I buy nail polish, I am so thrilled when I think I find the colour being exactly like this old L’Oreal shade, that I don’t realize I have quite a few of them already.
With this knowledge I am not sure whether to shake my head at my own stupidity or smile at the nostalgia of it, because I still buy more. Either way Xenia started a trend on my nails, but was right – the original L’Oreal could not be matched as it went hand in hand with a beige couch and Joey’s pizza.
P.S. I think the mechanic, who looked at my car before I bought it, wanted to put on his sunglasses when he saw it.
Mechanic: That is a very very red car. Me: I know. Isn’t it great? It matches my nail polish! Mechanic (thought bubble above his head): Women!