Bare Nails Might Be Trending — But For Muslim Women, They’re A Way Of Life
“Nothing? Not even a gloss coat? Maybe light pink?” The manicurist could barely hide her disinterest as I confirmed that, yes, I wanted an entirely bare manicure: nails trimmed, cuticles treated, and nail beds buffed to a shine — everything but the polish. Throughout the entire treatment, she barely engaged me, instead looking over at other clients who were getting ‘actual’ manicures done. I left feeling slightly apologetic, like I’d wasted her time and somehow let her down. Frustratingly, this is far from an isolated incident; it’s often what happens when Muslim women like me book in for nail maintenance appointments. You see, many Muslim women refrain from wearing nail polish for religious reasons. As part of the five obligatory daily prayers, ablution (the ritual washing known as ‘wudhu’) must be performed, which involves cleansing the hands, ensuring that water reaches the nail beds. Traditionally, nail polish has been seen as a barrier that invalidates wudhu. Women don’t pray when menstruating, and growing up, nail polish was reserved for that one week a month. As a teenager, I was always so excited to paint my nails, and some Muslims have their nails painted at the salon just to have the polish removed a week later. Muslim women have been wearing their nails bare for generations, not because they were trending, but because they formed part of our religious rituals. It has been a lonely beauty club to be in. In other words, bare nails are the norm for many Muslim women. You can imagine my surprise, then, when I recently discovered that bare nails were being hailed as the latest, chicest manicure trend. I saw it in a magazine article first, and I was certain that the writer must have meant ‘barely-there nails’, or ‘the bare nail look’ — a sheer nude coat of polish (think OPI Bubble Bath or Essie Ballet Slippers) designed to mimic the appearance of healthy natural nails. Surely, there was no way that the humble cut, file, and buff I’d been disappointing manicurists with was now considered en Vogue, I thought. All the more unexpectedly, it was being reframed as a symbol of “quiet luxury”, a phrase that has infiltrated fashion — and now beauty. If social media is anything to go by, the aesthetic rejects “showy” maximalism for “sophisticated” minimalism, and when it comes to nails, the “natural” finish is said to indicate quality. I could count the number of manicures I’ve had on one hand (pun intended). As such, I’ve long thought of going to the nail salon in much the same way as going to the dentist. Not pleasant and slightly guilt-inducing, but I’ll leave feeling clean and refreshed, albeit dreading my next visit. Seeing bare nails being framed as a trend, or symbol of understated luxury, evoked complex feelings. On one hand, working in beauty PR, I’ve always felt a sense of FOMO about not having my nails done. I worried that it might make me look less put together than my colleagues (see the viral conversation around “nail privilege”, which suggests having your nails done can make you more successful), or that people would assume I hadn’t made an effort. On the other hand, it’s a relief to know that it’s no longer outside the norm to skip the polish, but it would be remiss not to acknowledge that bare nails have always been another point of difference for Muslim women. More questionable still, the majority of inspiration pictures shared on Instagram or Pinterest tend to be on white hands that look nothing like mine or the countless Muslim women I know. That’s why it feels especially jarring when Influencers tell me that it’s “chic” to have bare nails. More questionable still, the majority of inspiration pictures shared on Instagram or Pinterest tend to be on white hands that look nothing like mine or the countless Muslim women I know. Simple, bare nails have even earned cutesy monikers, like the “naked manicure”, “your nails but better manicure”, or the “barely there manicure”. This is frustrating. We shouldn’t need Western women to co-opt and rename beauty rituals that Muslim women have been doing for years for it to become normalized and acceptable. Ambreen, 33, echoes my sentiment: “It feels like anything white women do is allowed to become a trend, but when it’s Muslim women, it’s framed as oppression,” she tells me. Ambreen adds, “Even if it’s something Muslim women did first, it always takes the Western world adopting a beauty ritual for it to be seen as acceptable. In the past, a Muslim woman skipping nail polish during a manicure would mean she was a step behind, but suddenly now that all the inspo is on white women, it’s completely acceptable.” Like me, Saimah, 30, wears her nails bare and has often felt pressured into getting nude gel polish by the nail techs she’s visited in the past. “[I have bare nails] for religious reasons, as well as being in the medical field,” she tells me, adding, “I’d love to get more bare nail mani-pedis, but it really t
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“Nothing? Not even a gloss coat? Maybe light pink?”
The manicurist could barely hide her disinterest as I confirmed that, yes, I wanted an entirely bare manicure: nails trimmed, cuticles treated, and nail beds buffed to a shine — everything but the polish.
Throughout the entire treatment, she barely engaged me, instead looking over at other clients who were getting ‘actual’ manicures done. I left feeling slightly apologetic, like I’d wasted her time and somehow let her down. Frustratingly, this is far from an isolated incident; it’s often what happens when Muslim women like me book in for nail maintenance appointments.
You see, many Muslim women refrain from wearing nail polish for religious reasons. As part of the five obligatory daily prayers, ablution (the ritual washing known as ‘wudhu’) must be performed, which involves cleansing the hands, ensuring that water reaches the nail beds. Traditionally, nail polish has been seen as a barrier that invalidates wudhu. Women don’t pray when menstruating, and growing up, nail polish was reserved for that one week a month. As a teenager, I was always so excited to paint my nails, and some Muslims have their nails painted at the salon just to have the polish removed a week later.
Muslim women have been wearing their nails bare for generations, not because they were trending, but because they formed part of our religious rituals. It has been a lonely beauty club to be in.
In other words, bare nails are the norm for many Muslim women. You can imagine my surprise, then, when I recently discovered that bare nails were being hailed as the latest, chicest manicure trend. I saw it in a magazine article first, and I was certain that the writer must have meant ‘barely-there nails’, or ‘the bare nail look’ — a sheer nude coat of polish (think OPI Bubble Bath or Essie Ballet Slippers) designed to mimic the appearance of healthy natural nails. Surely, there was no way that the humble cut, file, and buff I’d been disappointing manicurists with was now considered en Vogue, I thought.
All the more unexpectedly, it was being reframed as a symbol of “quiet luxury”, a phrase that has infiltrated fashion — and now beauty. If social media is anything to go by, the aesthetic rejects “showy” maximalism for “sophisticated” minimalism, and when it comes to nails, the “natural” finish is said to indicate quality.
I could count the number of manicures I’ve had on one hand (pun intended). As such, I’ve long thought of going to the nail salon in much the same way as going to the dentist. Not pleasant and slightly guilt-inducing, but I’ll leave feeling clean and refreshed, albeit dreading my next visit. Seeing bare nails being framed as a trend, or symbol of understated luxury, evoked complex feelings.
On one hand, working in beauty PR, I’ve always felt a sense of FOMO about not having my nails done. I worried that it might make me look less put together than my colleagues (see the viral conversation around “nail privilege”, which suggests having your nails done can make you more successful), or that people would assume I hadn’t made an effort. On the other hand, it’s a relief to know that it’s no longer outside the norm to skip the polish, but it would be remiss not to acknowledge that bare nails have always been another point of difference for Muslim women.
More questionable still, the majority of inspiration pictures shared on Instagram or Pinterest tend to be on white hands that look nothing like mine or the countless Muslim women I know.
That’s why it feels especially jarring when Influencers tell me that it’s “chic” to have bare nails. More questionable still, the majority of inspiration pictures shared on Instagram or Pinterest tend to be on white hands that look nothing like mine or the countless Muslim women I know. Simple, bare nails have even earned cutesy monikers, like the “naked manicure”, “your nails but better manicure”, or the “barely there manicure”. This is frustrating. We shouldn’t need Western women to co-opt and rename beauty rituals that Muslim women have been doing for years for it to become normalized and acceptable.
Ambreen, 33, echoes my sentiment: “It feels like anything white women do is allowed to become a trend, but when it’s Muslim women, it’s framed as oppression,” she tells me. Ambreen adds, “Even if it’s something Muslim women did first, it always takes the Western world adopting a beauty ritual for it to be seen as acceptable. In the past, a Muslim woman skipping nail polish during a manicure would mean she was a step behind, but suddenly now that all the inspo is on white women, it’s completely acceptable.”
Like me, Saimah, 30, wears her nails bare and has often felt pressured into getting nude gel polish by the nail techs she’s visited in the past. “[I have bare nails] for religious reasons, as well as being in the medical field,” she tells me, adding, “I’d love to get more bare nail mani-pedis, but it really takes away from the experience to feel like you’re constantly being convinced a nude gel is the better route. It simply isn’t an option for me.”
In recent years, nail technology has advanced, bringing a steady rise in breathable, permeable nail polishes. This allows water to pass through and is therefore considered permissible by some Muslims. As you might’ve guessed, this doesn’t extend to gels including Shellac, builder gel (or BIAB), and acrylic nails — none of which I have ever had.
But as “naked” manicures rise in popularity, so have the offerings on salon menus, making it much easier to book in, rather than having the ‘everything but the polish’ conversation. For Ambreen, the naked manicure encouraged her to book into a salon for the first time. “I wouldn’t usually spend time getting my nails done,” she tells me, “but knowing I can invest in a manicure that leaves my nails looking and feeling healthy, without compromising on the conditions required for prayer, is a really great beauty maintenance option.”
I agree, and I love seeing manicurists perfect their craft in a way that feels relatable and desirable to Muslim women. Celebrity manicurist Iram Shelton tells me, “I love working on bare nail manicures. The trend has made me so much better at the fundamentals like shaping, buffing, and cuticle work because that takes center stage when there’s nothing else to distract from it.”
With that said, while the conversation around bare nails has skyrocketed, putting this into practice in mainstream salons is more gradual. Shelton shares, “Clients who used to opt for chrome or nail art now want to look like they’re not wearing anything. However, most people aren’t actually going for fully bare nails; they are opting for a glazed look using an ultra-glossy top coat, and OPI’s Tin Man Can glaze, both of which give the illusion that it’s how their nails look naturally.”
This made me question whether those spearheading the bare nail conversation were really living with them. I put the question to luxury manicurist Megan Margot Evans, who tells me, “A high percentage of my clients are still getting gel manicures, with regular gel maintenance appointments every three weeks.” Evans adds that natural nails are certainly the more “practical, low-maintenance option”, but if Instagram is anything to go by, it seems that truly natural, bare nails are few and far between. The expert consensus is that going “faux bare” remains the most viable option. But if we’re expected to fake the look of natural nails, will truly natural nails ever be accepted as they are?
One positive that has come from the rise of bare nails is the increased manicure options on the market. Take the Japanese manicure, for example: a targeted treatment where nails are cleansed, shaped, and buffed before a mix of paste and powder with ingredients such as beeswax, vitamin E, and keratin is massaged into the nailbeds for health and shine — no polish whatsoever. Another option, and my personal favourite, is glass nail buffing. This enlists a tempered glass tool to smooth ridges, leaving a high-shine finish that replicates the look of a glossy top coat. This is something I request during all my naked manicures, and considering how long the pearly shine lasts, it’s hard to believe they’re my natural nails.
With all that said, it’s frustrating that bare nails are only now being embraced, especially, it seems, by people who have written Muslim women out of beauty narratives in the past. Muslim women have been wearing their nails bare for generations, not because they were trending, but because they formed part of our religious rituals. It has been a lonely beauty club to be in. So please remember that while bare nails might be a fleeting trend for the summer, for Muslim women, they always have — and always will — form a key part of our beauty identities.
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