Perfecting the Craft (Even When It Takes 4 Hours!)

 As I continued to grow into my career as a nail tech, things slowly started to click into place. I wasn’t just “getting by” anymore—I realised, I’m actually good at this. French manicures, the one thing I was once desperate to perfect, soon became second nature. To this day, French is my thing. I find it oddly simple now—it’s almost soothing.

Training Days and 4-Hour Full Sets

As part of my journey, I took the next big step: heading to London to train in acrylics and gel. My lovely mum was my model for the day (thanks, Mum!). After that, it was all about practice—10 full sets to keep perfecting. And let’s just say… the first one nearly broke me.

A full four hours for a plain set of acrylics. Four hours! Bless my poor friend who patiently sat through it all. It was painful for both of us, but we did it—and each set after that got better.

You never stop learning in this industry. Even now, 17 years later, I’m still learning. Still improving. Still pushing for that “perfect, perfect, perfect” finish.

Building Confidence, One Client at a Time

I remember my first extra treatment client so clearly. I was petrified. What if they didn’t like it? What if they complained? I spent the whole hour on edge… but it went well. And each appointment after that chipped away at the fear and built up my confidence.

Before I knew it, I was part of the core team—one of the “long-timers.” I could tell you which clients loved which varnish shades, what oils worked best for which skin type, and recite the ingredients in hand creams like it was second nature.

More Than a Job—A Whole Life

As time went on, I became a permanent fixture in the nail bar, working long hours, covering shifts, hopping between different stores across Kent—and even into London. I was trusted, I was experienced, and I was living it.

I even had opportunities I never imagined: I was invited to QVC, did a fashion show, and visited the flagship store. Amazing moments that, looking back now, I realise I didn’t fully appreciate at the time. I was young, I was tired, and the magic was starting to blur under the pressure.

So I handed in my notice.

Wait… You Quit All That?!

Yes. I did.

They begged me to stay. But I was adamant. I was done. I needed a break, something new, something closer to home. So I took a risk—I applied for a job at a local salon, practically on my doorstep. No more trains, no more crazy shifts. Just a fresh start.

I thought I’d be venturing back into the full world of beauty—facials, waxing, the whole lot. A new chapter.

What could possibly go wrong…?