Iris I Was Thinner

Well, this is charming on every level. By "every level" I mean the 1.4 levels of meaning I am willing to grudgingly grant OPI because they are probably feeling extremely proud of their clever non-pun and I don't want to make them cry, and by "charming" I mean "incredibly off-putting and really messed up."

Hey, guess what, OPI? Nails are the one part of everyone's body that they pretty much feel OK about. Nobody's nails are too fat!



The nail polish industry has a special place in the world of make-up because nail polish is the only product that cannot be used to make you look like the more attractive person you're not. Nobody (I hope) is using nail polish to even out their blotchy skin tone, to make their tiny eyes look bigger, to make their cheekbones more prominent. Nail polish is something a woman (or man) does to please her-(or him)-self--what color do I want my nails to be, just because I like that color?

So, you know, thanks for ignoring that whole ability you had to make nail polish the only "beauty" industry segment free from the need to make women feel bad about themselves in order to sell more products. You didn't have to make this about disguising flaws; it could have been about celebrating choices.

Instead, you're a nail polish bottle calling itself fat.

Red Thong In Divorce Court

Here's a real winner from the Poor Life Choices collection by Naughty Nailz.


(photo by Lacquer Laine)

I hear they wanted to call it "Lost Any Chance at Alimony and Served Thirty Days for Contempt of Court," but it wouldn't fit on the bottle.

Miso Happy With This Color

It's nail polish names like these that really make me nostalgic for the good ol' days. You know, the ones where women were in the kitchen, African-Americans were at the back of the bus, and Asians were in internment camps.


(suggested by Avii)

This name is pretty subtle, so let me break it down for you. You see, "miso" sounds like "me so," which is what all Asian people say instead of the grammatically correct "I'm so." Man, sometimes people who grow up speaking a different language don't have a perfect grasp of English. Ha ha, I sure love to laugh at them for trying!

Google backs up my intuition that the primary association with "me so" anything is the immortal "Me so horny" scene from "Full Metal Jacket." Get it? One of Japan's primary cultural exports, which OPI is taking care to celebrate in its Japan collection, is prostitution! Of course, the character in "Full Metal Jacket" was Vietnamese, not Japanese, but that's cool. They all look the same to me, too.

Also, I love how in classic OPI style, randomly inserting the name of a soup (a soup that is not even remotely the same color as this nail polish, I feel obliged to pedantically point out) makes this a brilliant pun. Wow, that's vichyssoise hilarious, you New England clam chowder morons.

Dick Weed; Jizz

Whoa, now, let's just simmer down a moment, shall we? There's no need to get all hostile.


(suggested by Blanche and Trina)

I've seen a lot of nail polish that seems to be going through personal problems, including the insecure, the misogynistic, and the...vampiric, but none that is this out-of-the-blue insulting.

Also, "Dick Weed," really? When is the last time anybody used that one? You might as well bust out the big guns and start calling people "squares" and "dweebs." According to the only semi-scholarly article I can find, "dickweed" pretty much peaked as an insult in 1986, thanks to the immortal line "You killed Ted, you Medieval dickweed!" So let me take a page from the book of Bill S. Preston, Esq. and proclaim this name most heinous.

Incidentally, BleachBlack:

Before you named this little number "Jizz"...


(suggested by Hannah)

...you probably should have considered how wearers are going to have to respond when someone asks them "What's on your nails?"

12 Inch Gang Bang

(Photo by Lacquer Laine)

Interestingly, Lifetime is using this color as an inspiration for their first-ever movie based on a nail polish name. Keep an eye on your TV Guide so you don't miss the debut of "Rape in Lilliput: What Happens When 12-Inch Pianists Go Bad."

Friar, Friar, Pants on Fire!

Blasphemy! Accusing a man of God of deception? I had no idea that OPI was so iconoclastic. Maybe this is the color that Richard Dawkins wears on dates?


I admit that I kind of like the idea of an extremely bitter atheist in a room somewhere in OPI headquarters taking her revenge, one nail polish name at a time. And I look forward to the rest of OPI's anti-Christianity-themed line, which I hear will include Fertility Goddess Fuschia, Ubermensch Ultramarine, and Go Screw Yourself Billy Graham You Deranged Nutjob Blue.

However, I have to question the accuracy of this particular polish name. Do friars even wear pants? I mean, I'm sure they do now, but the traditional image is a cassock or something, isn't it? I admit that "Friar, Friar, Vestments on Fire!" doesn't quite have the same ring to it. However, it seems pretty clear that OPI already gets their nail polish names by ripping off playground rhymes and then substituting words with whatever nouns their darts happened to hit in a rhyming dictionary, so eloquence is pretty much out the window at this point. We might as well strive for whatever semblance of coherence we can still scrape together, OK guys?

I'm also not sure why this name is part of OPI's "English Collection" ("shades designed to capture the vibrancy of London, while simultaneously offering the softness of a heathered English countryside!"). What about friars (or flaming pants) is uniquely English? Let's just take a quick rundown of where the major mendicant orders were founded: Dominicans? France. Carmelites? Israel. Franciscans, Servites, and Augustinians? Probably all Italy. Even the word "friar" itself comes from the French "frère" (meaning brother). Basically, OPI has picked one of the few major medieval powers that did NOT originate any large sect of friars.

Here's what I'm guessing: OPI got all it knows about friars from the same place I did--Robin Hood. This would explain the alleged Englishness of the name. However, let me point out that 1) though Tuck wasn't the meekest of friars, I don't think he ever actually lied to anyone, making this name STILL nonsensical, 2) this totally clashes with Sherwood green, 3) this shade would be much better suited to Will Scarlet, and 4) I don't remember any part of the Robin Hood stories where Friar Tuck goes through Maid Marian's makeup bag.

Whatever way I slice it with my longsword, this name does NOT make me merry.

Limbo Bimbo

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Sexagon

Guys, I have made it big. My dream as a blogger has finally come true: today, I received my first kick-back! Our faithful midwestern nail polish correspondent Suzanna has sent me some nail polish that is the perfect combination of beautiful in color and hideous in name. (A rose by any other name may smell as sweet, but I think we all know that tamely-named nail polish just doesn't have the same sparkle.) Thanks, Suzanna! However, I would like to assure you all that my devotion to strict journalistic integrity remains intact. I remain firmly committed to revealing and reviling the stupid names of the nail polish world (however, have I mentioned what a lovely name Suzanna is?)



Anyway, what is going on with Sexagon? I wish I could believe that this was just an unfortunate result of someone mixing up her Greek and Latin prefixes, but my time in nail polish academia has taught me cynicism. In fact, the reference is much more literary. I am pretty sure that this is actually the title of Edwin Abbott-Abbott's lesser-known and extremely pornographic sequel to Flatland.

An excerpt:

Their vertexes locked across the room. The sexagon slid boldly over the plane until he stood before the lithe young triangle. "Hey, baby," he said. "If I told you that you had a beautiful perimeter, would you hold it against me?"

The triangle blushed and looked shyly at her smallest angle.

"Come on, doll," the brazen sexagon continued, "Don't be obtuse. It doesn't suit acute one like you. You don't want to be a square, do you? I'm not going to stand here and complement you all night. Let me buy you a gin and conic."

"No, thanks," the triangle said. "What's your angle?"

"My angle? You could fill the null set with all the other guys in here who would give you the coordinates of the origin. Look, you know you're the right triangle for me. Let's go back to my place and we can give it an ol' whirl around the XXX-axis. Tangentially, it's cool if you're bisectoral, you can bring a friend."


I'd go on, but I have underage readers. Anyway, don't worry, moralists! I don't want to spoil the plot, but it all wraps up satisfactorily when the deviant sexagon does some hard time in high-security prism. The shy triangle realizes the error of hanging out in shady parts of the coordinate grid, joins the convex and becomes a nonagon.

Mrs. O'Leary's BBQ

You know a nail polish name is destined for greatness when the least offensive interpretation of it combines all the charm of a national tragedy like Pearl Harbor with the crispy dead cow flesh "eww" factor of Meet Balls. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mrs. O'Leary's BBQ:


(spotting courtesy of Krissy)

The more offensive interpretation, you ask? Well, let's just say that the "cow" part of the story is urban legend. But a lot of people died in that fire...

I mean, I'm not saying that OPI is trying to glamorize cannibalism. It's just that if you peeked into the lunchbox of the staffer who came up with this, I wouldn't be surprised if it contained the other white meat, you know what I'm saying? Or if during her last weight-loss craze, she learned how zombies kept their figures so lean (Atkins himself is Atkins-friendly, dieters!). And I bet she never had any problem figuring out what to serve her in-laws...and the question became academic after one night. And maybe she...uh...put people...in her mouth...and digested them...wink wink nudge nudge.

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is no matter how much this looks like a black cherry soda, please don't drink it.*

*Papua New Guinean readers, please disregard.

Big Daddy

Wow, creepy.


(Spotting and photograph courtesy of Suzanna)

Is anybody surprised that "Big Daddy" comes from the same company that brought us "Under 18"?

Not only does this name really give me the heebie-jeebies, but it also seems like a blatant color mismatch. This hideous bright orange is neither particularly manly (as befitting a Big Daddy) nor is it stereotypically little-girly (as befitting his doting daughter).

In fact, I can think of only two reasons for "Big Daddy" to be this shade:

1) You are trying to get your Big Daddy to "discipline" you for choosing such a horrible nail polish.

2) You are hoping to use your nails as hazard signals to flag down the car behind you and beg them to release you from your plaited-kneesock manacles before your body turns up in a ditch clad in a plaid skirt and pigtail ribbons.

If the former, good luck! You have earned it.

If the latter, I recommend bringing along some nail polish remover along in a hollow tooth. You're going to need it to take off your nail polish when the cops pull Big Daddy over for yelling obscene propositions at that school bus. Otherwise they might just decide anyone with such bad taste in polish deserves what she gets.

Phallic

Oh, god.

(photo taken from Vampy Varnish)

I have three questions:

1) WHAT?

2) WHY?

3) BLUE???

Under 18

From the manufacturers of Pearl Harbor, I bring you...an ode to statutory rape:



Really, guys? "Under 18"? This is kind of creepy. (Being the color of drying blood doesn't help. Was she beaten and left for dead before Chris Hansen got there?) Also, it doesn't seem designed to increase sales. People under eighteen are perpetually obsessed with being able to pass for over twenty-one, so they can sneak into bars and get drinks, and I don't think people over eighteen have a burning desire to be confused with jailbait.

But maybe I'm being uncharitable. Under 18 could refer to lots of other things:

--The amount of days this nail polish will remain on sale before they yank it from the shelves.

--How attractive this color is on a scale from 1 to 100.

--The number of satisfied purchasers.

--The IQ of the person who brainstormed this name.

Lost Without My GPS; What's a Tire Jack?

Remember that feminist movement we had? OPI for Sephora doesn't.


These lovely shades are named Lost Without My GPS (top) and What's a Tire Jack? (bottom).

Let's just skip over another annoying instance of confusing "appropriate nail polish name" with "rhetorical question," although to be honest this still infuriates me and I would prefer a polish named "A Usually Portable Device For Raising Heavy Objects By Means of Force Applied With a Lever, Screw, or Hydraulic Press." (Actually, that would be awesome. I would kill for a set of Archimedean simple machine-themed nail polish and I think it would really sell well during this steampunk craze.)

And I think we can all recognize that these are phrases, not colors. I guess "What's a Tire Jack?" is kind of the color of a tire. This, incidentally, is the best thing that can be said about either of these names.

But most pressingly...what is going on here??? Here is how I think the sales pitch went:

"All right, let's discuss naming possibilities for our new line. I hope all of you have taken the research seriously and developed ideas that will appeal to a broad demographic of women. Smith?"

"I've been conducting focus tests and you'll never guess what broads like these days: sickening reminders of the most prevalent, offensive, and outdated stereotypes that have been used to degrade them for decades!"

"Interesting, Smith. While we discuss, Miss Johnson, could you fetch the coffee please?"

"Certainly, sir. Mr. Smith, would you help me carry it in?"

(Mr. Smith and Ms. Johnson leave the room. A dull thud is heard, followed by the sound of shattering china. A mixed stream of brown and red trickles sullenly under the door of the break room. Ms. Johnson reenters the room, adjusting her blouse.)

"Sorry, we're all out of coffee. How about some tea?"

Pearl Harbor

As my Valentine's Day present to you, here it is. The motherlode.



Remember when the Japanese navy sank virtually the entire American fleet without a declaration of war? Thousands were killed and more were wounded, before they even knew they had an enemy to face. Pain and death rained from the sky, unforeseen and undeserved. The nation was outraged; we swore the date would live in infamy. I just didn't think we would commemorate it like this.

What MONSTER would name a nail polish after this maelstrom of hate? The brand name is Sinful Colors? You're not kidding me! Who thinks that Pearl Harbor is a charming color to put on her nails? Eva Braun?

I just hope they come out with some other colors for this brand. Spring Fling is coming up and I think some sparkly September 11th would really set off my dress.