Grief & Nail Salons: The Connection You’ve Never Thought About

Nail techs are the backbone of grief support in America. Hear me out.

Getting our nails done can become the one little ritual we do for ourselves in the middle of complete chaos. I know I’m not alone in the fact that when I’m feeling really down, sometimes the only thing I can muster the energy to do is get my nails done. Nail techs hear all kinds of stories from all kinds of people, some of them incredibly heavy. They see you on your best days when you’re getting ready for something fancy, yes– but they also see you two weeks after the death of your father, because you’re finally up for getting out of bed and doing one thing that brings you joy. Nail techs hear about people’s losses every single day.

But, let me take a step back: I wasn’t always a nail salon girlie. Far from it! My nails have been a constant source of anxiety for nearly as long as I can remember. I'd pick at my cuticles until they were raw, so I painted my nails bright colors as a deterrent – a tactic I started as a little girl. But then at some point in the ensuing few days, one little corner would start to peel or crack, and I’d compulsively pick off all of my hard work. I’d hide little piles of nail polish bits on my lap in class, or, in later years, in meetings. I got very good at keeping my hands positioned in ways so people wouldn’t notice what I felt deep shame and embarrassment about. 

I went to the nail salon rarely– only for prom, maybe, because I was embarrassed at how my fingers looked, or the chemicals would sting my compromised, fragile skin. 

But at some point, when I lived in Chicago a decade ago, I set a goal to get my nails done professionally– it became a mental health motivator for me during a turbulent time in my life. If I could just keep it together for a few weeks, if I could leave my nail beds alone for a little bit, then I could go get my nails done as a treat to myself. I was religious about getting my eyebrows done, and I decided I wanted to see the nail tech at the same small salon I was already going to. 

That’s how I learned how safe my nail tech could be for me during the hour we sit across from each other. The first time I went to the salon, because my nails were “good” enough to go, we yapped about all kinds of things: her granddaughter living with her while her daughter needed extra support, my mom dying when I was young. My nail tech was maternal and kind.

I set another goal to keep my anxious nail habits together, and come back and see her the next time I got my eyebrows done in a few weeks. But stress and my old habits took over– my nail beds really were looking awful. I was this close to canceling my nail appointment – but I thought that she was so warm and considerate, she probably wouldn’t say anything about them, anyway. 

That’s the first time I ever let anyone really look at my nails closely when I was struggling. I cried with my nail tech about how stressful things were at home in my marriage, coupled with graduate school, and how I hated myself for my constant nail picking. She listened as she held my hands, encouraging me to share whatever I wanted. It was a completely safe space for me to let my guard down, and be more honest about how much I was struggling in my marriage, especially. 

From then on, I got my nails done regularly there, no matter what shape they were in.

When I left Chicago, I ended up telling my nail tech why – she was one of the few people outside my family who knew that it was actually because my marriage was falling apart (not just because of a job opportunity back in my home state of North Carolina). It felt cathartic to let out some of the pent up frustration I tried to hide from everyone else. 

My salon was my “third space” during such a down time in my life in Chicago, and my nail tech was someone I sat with, face to face, during those many months. It was my moment of escape every few weeks. 

When I moved back to North Carolina, I struggled to find that same kind of salon– and I thought maybe nothing would compare to the wonderful nail tech I had in Chicago! So I stopped going anywhere regularly, and if I did get my nails done somewhere, I wasn’t very chatty. Mostly, I painted my nails at home. 

When my dad died suddenly in March 2020, picking at my nails unfortunately turned into a bigger thing in my life, again. Between the grief of losing Dad, my only remaining parent, the Pandemic wreaking havoc, and, eventually, on top of everything else, my divorce, of course I wasn’t well. No one would be well in that situation.

Once Covid regulations allowed salons to open back up, I set a goal to get my nails in good enough shape to get a manicure again– that had worked for me as a mental health motivator before, so I tried again. Getting my nails done regularly, and building a relationship with my nail tech, proved to be really helpful for my wellbeing, again, this time around. 

I found a salon I really liked, one that felt calming and peaceful, and always seemed to have a diverse array of clientele, of all ages and backgrounds. It’s become another third space for me, where I always run into someone I know, and I’ve built a relationship with my nail tech that feels caring and safe. This one is more like a big sister relationship than a maternal one – I’m older than my nail tech. She knows all about my parents having died, my divorce, my experiences dating since, she knows I have a new nephew. I know about her marriage, and her baby on the way. 

Just walking into the salon shifts something in me. The familiar scent of acetone I probably shouldn’t like, the quiet buzz of overhead lights-- it's like stepping into ritual when everything else feels off-kilter.

Unlike forced small talk or the emotional labor of catching up with friends, the salon creates this in-between space where connection feels easier. Some days I'm quiet, and that's okay too. Even on the quiet days, just being in the presence of gentle human connection - the soft touch on my hands, the casual chatter around me - lifts a weight I don’t always recognize that I’m carrying. It's become a small reminder that I'm still part of the world, even when grief makes me want to hide from it. I always feel better leaving the salon.

For years now, I’ve been going once about every three weeks or so for a manicure. It is the most consistent self care I undertake, alongside my therapy appointments, and working out. And my nails look amazing. 

The connection between grief and nail care is a real thing. I didn't connect the dots for myself between my grief and my nails until I was hosting a Meet & Grieve event a couple years ago, and a few of us started chatting about it. Getting our nails done is an important ritual for many of us during turbulent times. When I asked my nail tech for her two cents on the connection between the nail salon and grief– and she agreed, immediately. She pointed me to an older woman who was in the salon at that same moment, and said her husband had died six months ago. Getting her nails done is the only thing that got her out of the house early on, she said.

The little things can make a big difference when we’re grieving – there’s science behind that, too. Recent research shows us that little daily uplifts can impact us for the better, whether it’s been decades since our trauma or it just happened. There is recent research specifically on the impact of nail care at salons, as well, specifically naming the uniqueness of “self disclosure” as something this part of the beauty industry offers—you get to speak with your nail tech if you choose to. The way we care for ourselves doesn’t have to look extravagant. It just needs to help us feel a little bit more whole, again.

If you’re grieving and you hadn't thought about stopping by the nail salon, you should try it. If you've been struggling with what to get someone who is grieving, consider getting them a nail salon gift certificate. We might scoff at the seemingly limited impact that little things can have– but I think we, as a society, underestimate the value of the little things when we’re grieving. 

To the nail techs: thank you for seeing us in our grief. And to everyone: if you’re looking for within-reach self-care when you’re grieving, the nail salon should be your first stop.