ISSUE 06: In Defense of My Tacky Nails

Small rebellions, maximalist tradition, and why a little too much is sometimes just enough.

There are a lot of things you learn to internalize about “good taste.” Wear neutrals. Buy the classic version. Keep it simple. Edit, edit, edit.

Then, enter stage left, my nails: long, coffin shaped, and (depending on the day) dipped in gold foil, tiny rhinestones, chrome gradients, or some aggressively unserious shade of bubblegum pink.

Tasteful? Maybe not in the traditional sense. Perfect? Absolutely. I’ve joked before about having “tacky” nails, with an accompanying wriggle of my fingers and pursing of my lips. But lately, I've been thinking about what that word actually hides. Because if we're being real, calling ornate nails “tacky” isn’t just about design—it’s about race, class, and gender. It’s about who historically got labeled as doing too much.

Long, elaborate nails—the kind stacked with glitter, stones, decals, 3D appliqués—have deep roots, especially in Black culture. Decades before it was showing up at fashion week or on Pinterest boards labeled “Y2K glam,” Black women were setting the standard: maximalist, unapologetic, and utterly inventive. Gold rings stacked to the knuckles. Names in diamonds. Tiny acrylic sculptures worn like crowns.

It wasn’t "extra." It was language. A way of announcing yourself in a world that constantly tried to minimize you.

So when we say ornate nails are “low-class” or “tacky,” we should also hear what’s underneath that idea: an old set of rules about whose self-expression gets called beautiful—and whose gets called “too much.”

The history of art is basically one long argument about where the line is between tasteful and tacky. In 1910, the Austrian architect Adolf Loos published his famous essay Ornament and Crime, arguing that ornamentation was wasteful, primitive, even immoral. A century later, for example, artist and designer Yinka Ilori builds entire spaces covered in color, pattern, and symbols—and calls it joy. Taste swings back and forth, but the point remains: sometimes decoration isn’t extra—it’s essential. It’s a declaration of life.

Here’s the thing: there’s something delicious about letting yourself be a little bad at a small scale. Taste—real taste—isn't about making everything smooth and neutral. It’s about knowing where to make a little bit of joyful chaos. One of my favorite quotes belongs to artist and poet Toi Derricotte: “Joy is an act of resistance.” It’s true in art, it’s true in politics, and it’s definitely true at the nail salon when you ask for the chrome flames and the tiny dangling charms even though you know it’s "too much."

There’s power in letting yourself love something outrageous, ornamental, extra. Joy isn’t a mistake. It’s the point. Having wild nails is like leaving one window cracked open during a thunderstorm, just because you like the smell. It’s sneaking out of your parents' house under the guise of studying for finals but really drinking Smirnoff Ice in a cornfield and making out with someone who you certainly will not be inviting to your family’s Thanksgiving dinner.

It’s the tiniest middle finger to the idea that everything has to be refined.

There’s a version of this energy in good design too. A pristine modernist apartment with one totally unhinged armchair that looks like it belongs in a cartoon. A sleek Scandinavian house with one bedroom painted highlighter yellow for no reason except that it feels right. A Chanel outfit with a giant clashing scrunchie shoved unapologetically in the hair.

Good taste isn’t about stripping everything down to some anemic vision of what it means (or what you think it means) to be high class. It’s about knowing where to break the rules—and doing it with a grin.

It’s funny how often the thing you worry is "too much" ends up being the thing that makes everything else feel alive.

Tacky nails, loud earrings, an absurdly ornate ceramic lamp—these aren’t aesthetic mistakes; they’re pressure valves. They let a little air in. They remind you that beauty isn't always solemn. That sometimes, a little chaos is the most elegant thing you can do.

And maybe that’s the real secret to good taste: Not taking yourself so seriously that you forget you have a body, and hands, and a life, and the right to wear tiny strawberries on your fingers just because it makes you happy.

This week’s goodies: unapologetic, slightly unhinged maximalist treasures.

Next week: double takes, double purchases, zero regrets.