Happy New Year!

A three-month hiatus on this forum is followed by a brief farewell. It's been a wild ride, 2011 but it's now time to bid you adieu. In fact, I'm thrilled to bits to wave goodbye to this year. It's not that it has been a particularly terrible time. On the contrary, it has been a year of good news, happy celebrations, the establishment of new friendships and the strengthening of old ones.

I am ready to turn the page. At the stroke of midnight, I hope you will join me in raising a glass in honour of all the hopes ignited, dreams inspired and ambitions fuelled by the dawning of another new year... May life be as you wish....

Hmmm... doesn't quite work. But, heck, I tried. The new-age peace-and-love-hippie mantra thing isn't really my thing so 'let me stick with what I know best. New Year. New Start. New Promises I'll Promise to Keep But Will Likely Break Within the First Three Months. New Self-Forgiveness and Justification for Said Broken Promises. New Ambitions. New Sensations. New Order. New Kids On The Block. New and Improved.

2012 - we hope the Mayans have gotten you all wrong, but if you are indeed the last year of the world, here's to putting a LOT of pressure on making it one for the history books (of which there will be none since it will be the end of the world, but you know where I'm going...)

Buon Anno, Bonne Année, Happy New Year to you!

Carly

My sphere of influence... Tacos

Anyone involved in some form of social media activity has likely heard of Klout. Klout, as its name would suggest, measures how influential you are online based on how much you tweet, facebook, blog and who actually reads you. It then gives you a score (out of 100) and highlights categories you are particularly influential in. According to Klout, I am influential about one thing: Tacos. Why? No idea. But rather than try to shift the perception of my knowledge and influence to other things like fashion, make-up, public relations or other things I am actually involved in, I'm going to embrace this newly placed crown of expertise and share with you some of my absolute favourite taco, burrito, quesadilla and enchilada experiences.

1. The ones I dream about: Joey's Fish Tacos
Joey's - a Vancouver-based food chain, with a similar vibe and menu selection as Moxies and Milestones - has the best fish tacos I have ever tasted. Honestly. No. Exaggeration. They arrive, three six-inch, soft, warm corn tortillas filled with lightly seasoned, breaded white fish, then layered with their own tangy mole sauce, a sprinkling of cheese, a dollop of guacamole and just the right amount of cilantro. No sharesies either. Get your own and leave mine alone.

2. The ones I can't stop eating when I'm full: Milagro Tacuba Enchiladas
Typically ordered after a healthy dose of Milagro's house-made guacamole and hand cut "nachos" - plus a good-sized Margarita - the Tacuba enchilada is intense. It comes swimming in a tomatillo and serrano pepper sauce, filled with chicken and cheese, served with beans and rice on the side. My stomach says stop somewhere between bite three and four but my tastebuds gang up on it until the last bite is gone. I think I now understand what they mean by "the whole enchilada"...

3. The ones I am ashamed to talk about: Taco Bell Bean Burrito
I have said too much already...

4. The "everything I've ever wanted in a burrito" burrito: Halibut Burrito, Burrito Banditos
There are no seats in this tiny fast-food joint but it's better to take these bad boys on the road. Filled with your choice of beans, rice, guacamole, cheese, tomatoes, onion, sour cream, you'll need to walk about 40 blocks to put a dent in the caloric intake you've just inhaled. But this indulgence is oh-so worth it.

5. The ones that don't make me hate myself in the morning: Carly's Baked Quesadillas

Recipe:
2 3oz chicken breast (substitute a fish like halibut if you prefer)
2 tsps Chili powder
2 tsps olive oil
8 low-fat flour tortillas (I use weight watchers wraps)
2 cups low fat cheese, grated
1 bottle Old El Paso taco sauce (not salsa - the taco sauce comes in a small bottle and is available in most grocery stores)
1/4 c. chopped green onion
1/4 cup diced tomatoes
cilantro sprigs (optional)
Cooking spray

Dice chicken, season with chili powder. In a frying plan, saute in oil over medium heat. Remove and reserve. Set oven to broil. Place oven rack on top level. Spray baking sheet with cooking spray. Place two tortillas on the sheet. Sprinkle 1/8 c. of cheese on each tortilla. Place 1/4 of the chicken on each. Sprinkle with some onion and tomatoes. Add more cheese on top. Cover with another tortilla. Lightly spray tops with cooking spray so they don't burn too quickly. Broil until tops start to brown, about 2 minutes. Remove sheet and carefully flip quesadillas so the bottom side browns. Remove once tops are browned and cheese is melted. Repeat with remaining ingredients. Serve with cilantro and taco sauce. Makes four servings.

day dreaming

so much to love...this inspiration is going to have to fight with my wedding budget. I wonder who will win...

Lets catch up!

Oh haiiii there. It's me. You're on-again, off-again blogfriend. Lets not get into the gritty details of my extended absence, oui? Suffice to say the truth is always less exciting than the imagination so imagine away! (imagine me on a sailboat in the Mediterranean, big sunglasses and buckets of champagne)

Why don't we start with today. Here's a topic: the benefits of nursing a fat lip and a wounded eyebrow.

Perhaps we should take a few steps back, which I will now do very gingerly from now on. Frankly, every step will be taken with caution from here on in because this past weekend, I fell on my face. I don't mean I flopped, sucked, stank up the joint with a bad comedy routine. I literally fell. On. My. Face. My arms were busy holding very important things so as I tripped up my driveway Saturday evening (or was it early Sunday morning?) the only thing to brace my fall was my right eyebrow and my bottom lip.

Fast forward through the terrifying days to follow where I looked like a gargoyle, the swelling has now gone down but I still can't quite do solid food. Welcome to the soup diet! The hidden benefit of falling on your face is that since I can't eat solid food, my 674th attempt at sticking to a diet has begun a week early. And it's just in time, too.

This weekend is Labour Day, the last long weekend of the summer where tradition dictates that you gorge yourself on all the delights of the warm weather: bottles of chilled prosecco, exotic cheeses and dips, barbequed everything, bottles of chilled Kim Crawford, bowls of ice cream, peach cobblers, berry crumbles, and pitchers of delicious sangria. And then there's dinner...

Luckily, me and my fat lip can hang out, slurping soups and practice saying "no thanks, I'm not hungry..."

Let me tell you a secret, put it in your heart and keep it...

Those are the first lines of a song I didn't know I knew. Well, clearly I did know it, but for the life of me, could not remember who sang it and how I knew it. Curiouser as it were, the man who fancies himself as somewhat of a musical encyclopedia, my husband-to-be didn't know it either.
So I Googled and boy, oh boy am I ever glad I did!
The song is called Heal the Pain and is from the album, Listen Without Prejudice by the timeless, George Michael. It's a pretty song, not a popular tribute but obviously one that left an impression deep in my grey matter. I immediately downloaded the entire album from iTunes and with it came two solid hours of nostalgia thick enough to knock out a small child. I remember being nine years old, spending hours singing along to that album, wanting so badly to be a supermodel in the ever-sexy Freedom video (Linda, Tatiana, Christy, Naomi and Cindy!). As nostalgia often does, it triggered other memories of other pre-teen sing-a-longs. So that night, my dear, sweet husband-to-be got a front-row ticket to 1987 as I dramatically reenacted Carly-esque versions of Lost In Your Eyes and Father Figure. Needless to say for the last week, my collection of late 80s classics including pre-cocaine Whitney, pre-Deborah, Debbie and post-WHAM George has grown exponentially and with it, my hair which thanks to the rain in Toronto, has also gone back to the future. SO RAD!
Just for kicks, speaking of sexy videos, this still might be one of the sexiest videos of all time - Being Boring, Pet Shop Boys.
"She was never bored because she was never boring."
Enjoy!

When is it okay to hug?

Sometimes, I wish I had Ms. Manners as my fairy godmother. Actually, it's more Ms. Appropriate whom I really need to hang with more often. Case in point: I never know when it's appropriate to hug. Take today for instance. I ran into a former colleague with whom I was friendly but never good friends. Since our random meeting took place in a professional environment (in front of my boss), I initially went in for a half-snuggle but catching myself, stuck out my hand for a good ol' profesh handshakehowdoyoudo. The result was a super-awkward half-handshake, half hug where I blathered some frantic words like "oh of course lets hug, it has been so long..." True story.

This kind of thing happens all the time. Being from European descent, despite not having been to Europe until I was almost 30, my pals and I always performed the double kiss. My family and I typically do the double kiss. So when I meet newer friends and we get to the kiss hello phase, I go for the double kiss. Muah, Muah!

Now, do you know what happens when you go for the double but your smooching partner sticks to the single? You sometimes kiss lips. Or eyeballs. Or other parts of their face. Regardless of the exact location of the smooch, it's quite embarrassing. My solution to this conundrum is to play it safe. Now I only go for the single. Let someone else look like they want to make out with me. I'm done!

But unfortunately, it's not that easy with the hug. As much as I'm a double kisser (muah, muah), I'm also a hugger. So how do you avoid going in for the hug and having someone recoil from your embrace?? Is there a tactful way to pull it back once you're mid-way there?

And really, when it comes to profesh situations, is it even appropriate to hug? I ask in earnest. Please help me stop embarrassing myself. xo Carly

Battle of the Bronzers

Yesterday, I wrote about my crusade against boring, sad fingertips. In my quest to punch out a perfect 10, I popped into my favourite store on earth, Sephora. Now as many of you know, I live in Toronto, a city where winter hides in the summer just long enough to wear skin-exposing outfits, but not necessarily long enough to goldify the pasty whiteness of that skin.

Enter woman's other best friend: the bronzer. As overwhelmed and panic-stricken I was to make a colour selection at the nail spa, making the wrong choice when it comes to a bronzer can be a costly mistake - and I don't just mean in dollars. One false move and you can go from the walking dead to Adam-Lambert-meets-Oompa-Loompa. (Orange and glitter make for an evil concoction)

The key that I have found to a great overall natural bronzed look is a combination of textures and colours. Over the years I've tried various products ranging in price and functionality. Here are three that I will keep in my stable of summer staples:

BEST FOR FACE: Revlon ColourStay Mineral Bronzer
This product actually does what it supposed to: Stays all day. It has a nice soft matte finish with very subtle shimmer. No big sparkles, sorry Avril. Great for an all-over, nicely blended sun-kissed look. And priced under $15, it's a fantastic deal for the quality and quantity.

BEST FOR BODY: Sephora Tinted Self-Tanning Body Mist
I just bought this yesterday and I think I'm in love. Fine, I'm not in love per se but my legs might be. This is a body mist that is tinted in a nice shade of bronze that is simple to apply and (so far) has lasted more than 7 hours without wearing off. Unlike other body sprays end up so matte you look like you are wearing very ugly flesh-coloured pants (nothing subtle about that), this formula is moisturizing and has just a hint of sheen while giving a gorgeous natural-looking tan. Its scent is slightly overpowering at first but luckily it wears off quickly and you're left with colour that would have 1970's era Bo Derek awarding you a 10. Also priced right, Canadian girls can pick up a bottle for around $17 at their local Sephora.

BEST FOR AU NATURAL: NARS Illuminator in Laguna
I love NARS products. Always have. Always will. I fell in love more than 10 years ago when I was interning at FLARE Magazine. I had just wrapped up my eight-month stint as a copy editing intern and my farewell gift was a raid of the beauty closet. This is where I first decided it was okay to work for make up instead of money. This is also where I first met NARS - it was a foundation. It was for very dark skin. I used it as a bronzer. Now, I'm grown up and so is NARS. The Illuminator product line comes in four light-reflecting shades. Designed as a highlighter, it has a little more shimmer than the two products above, but is gorgeously light that you can wear it on its own for a super-fresh glow or dab a little in strategic spots above your cheekbones, bridge of your nose, on your decolletage, even down the front of your legs. To add an extra oomph (not oompa!), apply Laguna and highlight with Copacabana - this is the secret weapon that makes Jennifer Lopez look so radiant. Priced around $38.

my manicure made me sad

There are a few things that regardless of my income, social status or age will forever be non-negotiable. A bi-weekly manicure is one of those things. Not simply a must-have for aesthetics and hygienic reasons, a manicure typically serves as an inexpensive pick-me-up, one you have heard me refer to as a "manicure-all" for a bad day, what ever the day.
This weekend, I was desperate. Having forgone my bi-weekly ritual due to an imposing and overloaded schedule, my hands needed some serious TLC. As I perused the arrays of fuchsias, reds, corals and plums, I panicked. Overwhelmed with the thought of clashing with my neon pink toes, I opted for what I thought was a comparable sweet baby blush shade to an OPI Bubble Bath or Sweetheart. It was Not. Even. Close.
The shade I selected is clear. I opted for clear. Who ever said, when in doubt, go with clear?? No, clear should only be reserved for top coats and nylon runs... and even then, nylons cost $4, you'd be best to ditch them then dab them with clear polish.
So that, dear reader, is why I am sad. Every time I look at my neatly squared off tips and my finely trimmed cuticles, I am sad.
Thank goodness there is a Sephora en route home. This calls for some mayjah colour intervention. In fact I'm nearly tempted to give those nail prints another chance! Okay, not that desperate but something needs to be done, and done quickly! Means I should probably get a new lipstick for my troubles... and maybe a bronzer too ;)

What's in YOUR makeup bag?

This weekend, in between trying to duck out of the damn rain, attending a sad excuse for a high school reunion (more later) and first-time wedding dress shopping (much more on that later), I took a long hard look at my bathroom counter, in particular, my make up bag. It was almost like I was looking at it for the first time. This clear plastic case is bursting at the seams. How did all that stuff end up in there?

Truth is, I know exactly how. I love makeup. Have loved makeup since I was a very, very little person. I can still remember the smell of my mother's Lancome red lipstick, blotted on the tissues she kept in her purse, with which she inevitably cleaned my messy face. I even remember the first time I tried mascara. It was Estee Lauder. I was 9.

But now I'm afraid my love has turned to obsession. I'm on makeup overload. The first step to recovery is admittance so here's a list of what is currently in my makeup bag. Please don't judge...

• 6 blushes in varying shades of pink and coral (Cargo, Nars, Sephora brand, Benefit, MAC, Two Faced)
• 4 eyeshadow quads in varying shades of browns/plums (2x Lancome, Marcelle, L'Oreal)
• 4 eyeshadow individual pots (2x MAC, 2x Benefit)
• 3 bronzers (Two Faced, Revlon, Lancome)
• 5 lip liners (MAC, 2x Annabelle, 2x Quo)
• 5 kohl eye liners and 1 liquid liner (Lancome, 3x Annabelle, L'Oreal)
• 6 lip glosses (2x LipFusion, 2x MAC, Revlon, Victoria's Secret)
• one tinted moisturizer, one brightener, 2 concealers, one foundation (Smashbox, Benefit, Tart, Philosophy, L'Oreal)
• not to mention blush, eyeshadow, eyebrow, eyeliner brushes, sharpeners, hair elastics, bobby pins, and the odd barrette

I know, right?? Too much?? Do you think the folks at TLC will make a show about people like me? You know, akin to crazies that clip coupons 40 hours a week and end up with a basement full of wall-to-wall croutons...

To make matters worse, this hoard is only what one would find in my every-day makeup bag. There is also an entire makeup drawer (yes, I said drawer) in my bathroom. I can't bear to tell you what you'll find in there... Suffice to say it features a glorious rainbow of Tourquoise, Pink, Coral, Plum, Navy, Red, Brown, Green and Gold and myriad shimmers, mattes, glosses, sticks, stains, creams, powders and minerals. Add to that eyelashes of varying lengths (including ones avec les plumes) and you might not be faulted to wonder if you are indeed staring into the makings of a drag queen or circus performer.

Writing it all down, I am struck feeling somewhere between utterly ashamed and valiantly proud. Problem is, I love this stuff. I love every gleam, shine, shading and shimmer. I love every polish, charcoal, pencil and primer. It's going to take some tough love but I'm going to pare it down - at least the every day - to include only things I actually wear.

I'll post the before and after when I muster up the courage to do the right thing and part with the excess.

But I'm curious - what's in YOUR makeup bag? How often do you purge? How often do you restock? Your secrets are safe with me and the one other person who reads this blog ;)

It's here....

And so it begins... tomorrow

The date is set...

In the absence of a firm wedding date, I have at least now booked a date to try on a wedding dress. I only wish Dukan had arrived already. Instead, I'm on a steady no-fun diet. Steady since about 11AM this morning anyhow...

As this will be my first foray into white-dress-ville, I thought I'd try to go in with a fraction of a direction. So what if I don't actually have a venue booked? So what if it's been six months since I got engaged? So what if I'm debating between February and October? Maybe all I need is the dress to push me into decisions.

I have decided to post some inspiration. (note to reader, particularly if reader is my mother: these are inspiration dresses, not final dresses and do not require comment, opinion or thoughts of any kind that are otherwise unsupportive). First up, Portia Di Rossi's stunning Zac Posen Cinderella dress is stunning. Playful, contemporary, sleek - pink perfection!

Up Next: Jessica Simpson's Vera Wang Stephanie lace strapless gown. That dress may have been the only good thing to come from that union.

I'm not a huge fan of hers but Demi Moore wore an incredible Versace to the Oscars last year. Save your questions as to why she was actually at the Oscars because I certainly have no idea. Likely not for her role in Charlie's Angels I'm
sure... Just picture it in white! Le love!
















Also fell in love with this Zac Posen 20's throwback when Gwyneth Paltrow wore it to the Oscars in 2007. That was back when she was still an actress and not a pontificating Goop-y mum who only eats things that end in organic and fears a sense of humour. Again, picture it in white... sigh







Finally, a non-celebrity inspirational dress. Whoever this woman is, I want her life. Married in Paris near the Opera in this incredible gown and mouth-watering shrug. I can't actually tell if I love the dress or just want to marry the jacket. Either way, this is the true inspiration for my wedding. Je Suis Tombé Amoureuse!!!

So it's come down to this...

Another attempt at the dreaded "D" word. This time, it's double D. Say it with me now: Dukan Diet. This is some serious business, people. Have you heard anything about it? The world is reporting that the lady Middletons (mom included) have Doc Dukan to thank for those little middles that were enviously ogled by 2 billion pairs of peepers around the world last week. True story, at least that's what the tweeps say.

Now, while the audience reach of my upcoming nuptials will be slightly fewer than those of the newly appointed Duchess of Cambridge, I will be nonetheless as fanatical about their opinions of everything I select - hair, dress, venue, husband... you understand, oui?

The double D suggests I have a "true" weight that is approximately 17lbs lighter than where I currently sit, albeit on my rather comfy, squishy ass. I truly wonder if I have it in me to do it. I hate diets. I get righteously angry and irritated, miserably deprived. Then I start reading Dove soap-inspired "I am Woman, I love my fat body, it's who you are inside that counts" baloney and fall right back off the hunger wagon into a pile of hamburger-chocolatebar-bottleofwine self indulgence and alas, the cycle begins once more. It's the battle between the "My pants don't fit agony and My pants fit ecstasy."

I, for one, often prefer ecstasy over agony but why is it that you can't have one without the other? In order to experience the happiness I so desire (which is avoiding back crack at all expenses - you know, when girls are squeezed into a dress so tight their back looks like a bum?), one must endure the agony of getting there. How to maintain focus is the question. Do I recite the unbelievably callous but oh-so-apropos Kate Moss quip: "Nothing Tastes as Good As Skinny Feels"? Or do I hide away for the next two months like a hermit just to avoid temptation?

At the very least, I'll have learned a lesson in will power. At very best, my husband-to-be will still want to marry me in spite of the size of my backside and the mood swings coming his way.

No one likes a bully

He's been stalking me for months. His presence cold enough to chill me to the bone. He casts a dismal shadow over my day and has ruined at least four pairs of boots. And then, just like a bad dream he was gone. In his absence, she arrived. The world looked brighter, there was a song in my step (Pick Up the Phone by Dragonette) and my thoughts danced with visions of adorable new dresses and sunkissed tresses....

But suddenly, a recurring nightmare, he was back. He spat at her with his stone-cold venom and blanketed all surfaces with a dull gray film. Dashed were my hopes of freckles and a tan as the colour drained from my face, lips turning blue and fingertips to ice.
But this is the last time. The last time I reel against the wind; the last time my hair goes frizzy and staticky ice and cold; the last time I brush off the car only to end up with a soggy wet coat; the last time I contemplate Sorrel's and my parka; the last time I pretend-shovel; and the last pair of boots I lose to sick salt stains!

Old Man Winter, I'm talkin' to you! Quit being a bully, and Spring, dear, sweet Spring, man up and grow a pair!

Outta My Way, Thursday!

I need a break from my life. I really do. It's becoming physically evident. I'm fogged up, fogging tired, want to fog the dog - gah, the very fact that I am using the word "fog" to suggest the word "fu&k" paints a picture! I tapped, zapped, whacked. Even my body is rebelling. Deciding a massage would do me good yesterday, I was saddened to hear that my muscles are "like wood" and not in a good way that would suggest I've been working out... 'cause I haven't... whatever!

Hoping a little R&R&R in Boston will help this weekend. Rest - courtesy of a comfy suite at the Commonwealth Hotel near Boston University. Relaxation - courtesy of a Sunday spa afternoon in the city. And... Retail - courtesy of my wallet and my insatiable need to buy things that I don't need.

Truthfully, I'm more than excited to spend a few days agenda-less, just hanging out in a cool city. I love Boston. If you haven't been, it's worth a visit. It's a city that doesn't intimidate. It's cool without trying. Has great culture and makes it so simple to get up to speed on its incredible history you have no excuse not to learn something. And has amazing shopping, particularly Newbury Street which is lined with boutiques, restos and fab people watching.

Now if Thursday would seriously just hurry up and get out of my way, I'll be that much closer to fine...

Oh and P.S. re: my last post: I did buy the dress... and I LOVE it so much the cost per wear is irrelevant! (It's the long-sleeved lovely!) xo

To buy or not to buy, that is (always) the question

I've just discovered my new favourite designer: Milly. It's not often when a line sweeps me off my feet but this season's Kennedy's-Gone-Sailing-in-the-late-7os is too cute for words! Take a peek at the line and I'm sure we'll start fighting over who gets to buy what very soon.

Now, speaking of buying, when the term "cost per wear" comes to mind when contemplating a purchase, you know there's not a sale sign in sight. But when one is still thinking about said purchase nearly four days in a row since falling in love at first sight, calculating "cost per wear" seems rather efficient and responsible, if you ask me!

Ok, for argument's sake, lets say a really pretty, day-to-night, great-for-work-and-afternoon-cocktail, spring-to-summer, perfect-fit, colour-blocked, long-sleeved shift is $500 (just throwing out a number). If I wear that darling even just five times, it becomes a $100 dress, see? And, since it's February and there are at least six months I could wear said frock (even once/month), the cost drops even lower...

See gals, sometimes math can be fun! Sometimes using the cost-per-wear calculator means that purchases are actually free! Take, for example, my Hunter Wellies - avg price: $200. Have worn them at least 30 times since purchase, which puts them around $6. And, since the rainy season hasn't even begun yet, these adorable high-heeled rainbooties will soon be free or even cost negative dollars!

Well, I'm convinced! And excited for a new dress!

Cease and desist: foot in mouth

Hello foot, meet mouth. Oh, you know each other? Ah yes, you know each other quite well. Frankly, I'm not liking the nature of your relationship. It's becoming rather inappropriate to be seen together so often, particularly under the circumstances. A couple of quick reminders so we can continue our collective working relationship:
1) it's Sherry, not Shelly
2) that brand is owned by their competitors, not the people buying your expensive lunch
3) to be gracious is not the same as to have grace
4) Lil' John and Lil' Wayne are not the same person
5) not everyone wants to hear your story, particularly the CMO, no matter how interesting you think you are
6) stop talking the minute your brain says "stop talking" - seriously, even if it's mid-sentence. It's better than what you're about to say...
Embarrassed makes me look fat.

*New* Review: OPI for Sephora - Chic Print for Nails

In effort to add some youthful pizazz to my already SAD-affected February, I went on a mission to try the latest in nail trends: the nail print. Loving the look as seen in the pages of high fashion mags and US Weekly alike, I hit a few different Shoppers Drug Mart's but to no avail. Either they don't yet carry or I'm utterly behind the hipster chicks who beat me to the punch (fists closing on the cutest nails around, I bet). I finally settled in at Sephora and a set of 16 magenta and silver diamond patterned $20 nail prints. I couldn't WAIT to try them! And then I did... Here's hoping I save you $20.

The claim: "A breakthrough array of precut nail patches for extraordinary nails, instantly!"

What else you need to know: "One set of Chic Print for Nails contains 16 nail patches of varying widths, for a one-time application to fingers or toes. The nail patch is a solid-film material with an adhesive back that is activated by friction. The warmth from friction creates conformability, allowing the patch to fit over the compound curves of your nails and seal onto the nail bed. The patent-pending material removes easily by rubbing and peeling off."

What really happened: Not only did I look like I was wearing wrapping paper on my fingertips, the precut nail patches are really big, you need to cut them to size, which you would think would be simple, but sadly not. First was still too big, second way to small. Third bubbled and wouldn't get smooth on my finger once I got the size down and the fourth wouldn't stick at all... AND these bad boys only last 1-2 days.

The Verdict: Clearly teenagers have more time than I do. Too much work for not enough result. Pass on the print and save your $20 for a proper mani.