The New York Times - USA (2020-08-06)

Yewande Moore used to get an acrylic over-
lay with a gel-polish manicure every couple
of weeks before coronavirus hit. But when
Ohio, where she lives in Kent, shut down sa-
lons, she went to Walmart to get tools to
take her nails off, not knowing when she
could get them done again.
There, taking a look at the press-on nails
in the beauty aisle, Ms. Moore, 32, who
works with student leaders at a nearby uni-
versity, had an idea.
“I love doing my nails so much,” she said.
“I’m going to offer it to other people.”
Ms. Moore took her stimulus check and
invested in supplies to start a press-on nail
business. After painting some sets and
building a website, she introduced Nail
Candy to the world on June 2 and said she
had sold about 125 nail sets. While some
customers seem to be pros at putting on
press-ons, she gets plenty of questions
about how to put them on correctly.
“There are a lot of people trying it for the
first time who probably never would have
tried it before,” she said.
Along with other nonessential busi-
nesses, nail salons closed across the coun-
try when the first stay-at-home orders came
down in March. It left nail salon workers out
of work and people who are used to having
their nails done without access to a cher-
ished grooming ritual.
Press-on nails last had a big moment in
the clickety-clack-typewriter 1980s, with
ads from a brand called Lee (“Easy on, easy
off”).
Now, more salons, independent creators
and customers are selling press-on nails as
a way to still have nice-looking manicures in
the era of social distancing. The nails can
cost as little as $8 from a retailer to at least
$160 for a customized set with Frida Kahlo-
inspired art.
It’s usually cheaper than a salon, where a
set of acrylics, as they’re known there, can
cost from $60 to more than $200 for custom
art, and that doesn’t include a tip. Press-ons
may fall off more than acrylics put on in a
salon, but kits usually send enough glue to
reattach any errant nail.
Even as states open back up, safety is still

a concern for some costumers. Charlotte

Brubeck, a laid-off restaurant worker in

Boynton Beach, Fla., was getting her nails

done regularly in a salon, with press-ons

something she’d do for specific outfits on oc-

casions like Halloween.

Ms. Brubeck, 26, turned to press-ons

while the salons were closed but doesn’t

plan to go back, even though her local spot

has been open for a few weeks. Though

press-ons aren’t as durable as her normal

style, she said it was worth it.

“I spend about $7 to $8 on a box of press-

ons versus $35-plus on a fresh manicure,

and I don’t have to leave my house,” Ms.

Brubeck said. “During a health pandemic

when most people are out of work and need

to stay home, that to me is all the info you

need to see how much better press-ons are

than a salon manicure.”

Vanity Projects, which has salons in New

York and Miami, hadn’t sold press-ons be-

fore the pandemic until its owner, Rita

Pinto, started paying her workers to paint

sets in May. The salons advertised them on

Instagram and have sold 200 sets, also

called tips, which Ms. Pinto, 45, said had

helped keep the company in business.

During previous periods of economic un-

certainty, the beauty sector has historically

seen an increase in sales of small luxury

purchases in what was named by Leonard

Lauder the “lipstick effect.” These little in-

dulgences can make people feel better with-

out blowing a budget.

This crisis is different than past reces-

sions, however, with people quarantining

and with fewer occasions to dress up. It has

left salons scrambling for ideas.

“We aren’t pandemic-proof, but we are re-

cession-proof,” Ms. Pinto said.

Fortunately, press-on nails have gotten

nicer in the last decade, with most sets last-

ing two to three weeks and coming in differ-

ent shapes and lengths. Before the pan-

demic, Jennifer Lopez and Alexandria Oca-

sio-Cortez had worn press-ons, with Ariana

Grande and Chrissy Teigen joining them

over the last few months. Influencers are

also getting attached, with Whitney Sim-

mons, a YouTube fitness influencer, singing

the praises of press-ons.

But customers new to doing their nails

need to be wary and listen to what profes-

sionals say when it comes to putting fake

nails on and taking them off, according to

Morgan Dixon, who owns the M.A.D. nail

salon in New Orleans. Ms. Dixon is also the

lead manicurist for the television show

“Claws,” a TNT comedy-drama series set in

a nail salon.

A natural nail can be damaged if a press-

on is put on top of a gel manicure, or if

ripped off without the right process.

“Just like any other beauty product,” Ms.

Dixon, 29, said. “You want to make sure you

aren’t doing anything harmful to yourself.”

She predicted that the at-home press-on

passion will likely continue after the pan-

demic now that people have seen the possi-

bilities and lower prices. Still, she doesn’t

see the in-person experience going away

forever.

“I honestly love that I can sit down with

someone where you can feel like you’re get-

ting a therapy session too,” Ms. Dixon said.

“You’re paying for more than just throwing

nails on.”

Clickety-Clack, Press-On Nails Are Back

A customer receiving

fancy press-on nails at

the Vanity Projects salon

in Manhattan last week.

CAROLINE TOMPKINS FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES

By JACKIE SNOW

THE ONETIME ’80s

MASS-MARKET

CHEAPIE HAS

GOTTEN AN

ARTISANAL

UPGRADE.

THE NEW YORK TIMES, THURSDAY, AUGUST 6, 2020 Y D3

Shortly after Clarisonic introduced a $195
electric facial cleansing brush in 2004,
Oprah Winfrey named it one of her favorite
things, Cate Blanchett and Lady Gaga used
it, and pretty much every women’s maga-
zine in America deemed it a must-have.
“I had to start using one just to disprove
the hype,” a Glamour magazine reviewer
wrote in 2009 before admitting she, too, was
“now pretty addicted.” Eventually, the
gospel of Clarisonic — Skin brightening!
Acne fighting! Improves absorption of all
your expensive skin care products! —
spread to more than 50 countries.
But in July, the company that basically in-
vented the market for luxury at-home facial
devices abruptly announced that it was
shutting down on Sept. 30. A note on the
Clarisonic website read: “This difficult de-
cision was made so that L’Oréal can focus its
attention on its other core business offer-
ings.” (L’Oréal acquired Clarisonic in 2011.)
Fans took to social media to vent, espe-
cially after most brush heads, which are
supposed to be replaced at least every three
months, sold out in less than 24 hours,
thanks in part to a 50-percent-off sale.
“It’s terrible, especially during a pan-
demic when people are relying on these
tools,” said Mona Hurst, 40, a makeup artist
and aesthetician in Phoenix. Ms. Hurst also
tweeted her displeasure.
She first picked up a Clarisonic in 2004
(before the hype) and stayed loyal because
she likes how well it takes off her makeup
and tightens her pores. Ms. Hurst estimat-
ed she has bought five models over the
years, including a new Mia Smart in No-
vember, for which she paid $175, that is now
useless because she can’t get any replace-
ment heads.
Customers may have been caught off
guard, but there were signs that all was not
glowy at Clarisonic. In 2016, the company
laid off 120 workers; last year, it laid off 92.
There were persistent complaints that the
devices caused breakouts (probably not
helped by users forgetting to clean or
change brushes) and were too harsh on
skin.
In response, the company introduced
new models that came with a “soft start” op-
tion that lowered the device’s power for two
weeks so people could get used to it.
(L’Oréal declined to comment.)
In the end Clarisonic’s biggest problem
may have been that skin care science has
moved on. It turns out washing your face
twice a day with an oscillating face brush —
which uses sound waves to dislodge bacte-
ria, dirt and dead skin cells from your pores
— is not as good for the skin as doctors once
thought it was.
“Initially we thought, ‘Oh, you need the
skin to be squeaky clean,’ and we thought
that oil was causing acne,” said Dr. Whitney
Bowe, a dermatologist in New York. “Then
we learned, ‘Wait a second, actually you
need healthy robust bacteria to protect the
skin.’ ” Dr. Bowe briefly carried Clarisonic in
her office, recommended it to patients and
even used it herself. She gave it up by 2014.

“We’re always on a learning curve,” she

said.

Scrubbing the skin too much or too hard

with anything — a brush, yes, but also a

washcloth or even your fingers — can dam-

age the acid mantle, the protective film of

natural oils, amino acids and sweat that

covers your skin.

“I have never seen scientific data that

shows evidence of positive impacts of ap-

plying such a treatment,” said Christian

Surber, a professor of dermatopharmacol-

ogy at the University of Basel and the Uni-

versity of Zurich and an author of studies on

the acid mantle. “I find it unreasonable to

scrub and abuse the skin in this way.”

(Pro tip: Use your fingers to lather on

cleanser and then rinse immediately. The

entire process should take less than a

minute, said Dr. Nada Elbuluk, an associate

professor of dermatology at the Keck

School of Medicine of the University of

Southern California.)

Dr. S. Tyler Hollmig, the director of der-

matologic surgery at the Dell Medical

School at the University of Texas, said he

recommended Clarisonic only for very, very

occasional use, like to help speed removal of

sun damage that’s been treated with a laser.

“It was a really nice Zamboni,” he said, re-

ferring to the machine that cleans ice rinks.

There are now skin care potions that per-

form the same cleansing and exfoliating

functions, he said, but in “a more elegant

and often less irritating way.”

At the same time, the at-home device

market seems to have shifted away from ex-

foliating and cleansing the outer surface to

reaching deeper to treat fine lines and

tighten the skin via collagen stimulation.

Sales of facial cleansing devices have been

in double-digit decline for at least three

years, said Larissa Jensen, the executive di-

rector and beauty analyst at the NPD

Group market research consultancy.

But in the last six months (and partly in-

spired by the pandemic), sales of laser light

therapy devices are up 41 percent while fa-

cial toning devices like Ziip are up 150 per-

cent, according to NPD data. (In contrast,

makeup is down 37 percent, and skin care

products are down 13 percent.)

“People are creating the spalike envi-

ronment in their homes,” Ms. Jensen said.

“There’s the opportunity to experiment.”

Robb Akridge, one of the Clarisonic in-

ventors, said he was “a little sad” about the

end of the device but also not entirely sur-

prised when his phone lit up with people

texting about the news.

“Clarisonic was the best thing to cleanse

your skin, but what the consumer wants has

changed,” said Mr. Akridge, who has a doc-

torate in immunology. “They want some-

thing they can adjust to their needs.”

Later this year, Mr. Akridge, who left the

company in 2018, will try for another run-

away hit when his new company, Opulus

Beauty Labs, introduces a device he said is

like a mini-lab for creating personalized

skin care products. The team that built it:

overwhelmingly veterans of Clarisonic.

That Must-Have Brush? It’s Just About Had It

By COURTNEY RUBIN

PERHAPS THE

SCIENCE OF SKIN

CARE HAS SIMPLY

MOVED ON.

SKIN DEEP

Turns out that washing your face with Clarisonic’s

cleansing tool may not be as great as once believed.

ANJELICA ROSELYN