On a sunny Wednesday morning, I took a left at St. Joseph’s Church in front of Banque Misr. Just in front of a small coffee shop was Lucie’s, a manicure and pedicure place. But this one is not like any other in Egypt. The old downtown establishment is perhaps the sole beauty salon that caters to the pampering needs of both men and women.
There it was, Lucie’s. The name first conjured images of a luxurious five-star spa with mud baths and steam rooms. The reality is that it’s a small shop just like any other: dark, dusty, and congested. A delicate pink light illuminates the shop window and exposes what appears to be a life-sized plastic hand of a woman. It made me feel a bit out of place, but I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into the store. A middle-aged lady with round gold-rimmed glasses greeted me with a smile.
“Manicure or pedicure? she asked.
The question caught me off-guard. Never was I asked such a question before.
“Both please, I said, struggling to swallow.
The middle-aged lady dug up a large notebook from her desk and scanned the pages. “Be here at 10:30, she said. “If you have some errands to run, you can go do them and come back. I gave her a final nod and stepped outside.
For that half hour, I meandered around the area thinking about the last time my mother had a manicure and about Nadia who would come to our house with her scary-looking tools, and the sound of metal meeting nail.
As I pondered getting a manicure, my parents warned me against catching Hepatitis C through Unsterilized tools.
At 10:30, with my heart pounding in fear, I stepped back into Lucie’s where I was instructed to “relax on what looked like a dentist’s chair, every little boy’s nightmare. To my right was a collection of surgical tools. The pounding went faster.
I dipped my feet into hot water basin.
A tall man wearing thick dark-rimmed glasses with his hair gelled back sat in front of me and asked me to rest my foot on a small stool in front of him. He was clean-shaven, but his hands were hardly representative of his overall clean look. The tips of his nails were almost bluish. I wondered if they were dirty or simply bruised.
When I got comfortable, I asked about his clientele.
“It’s not a luxury, said the man. “It is essential. A lot of people do their nails here because they are diabetics and need to have regular pedicures. Pedicures are important for diabetics as dry and scaly skin can often be a starting point of health complications if it starts to crack or peel, especially considering their low ability to recover from injury.
He examines my toes, then reaches for the dreaded tool: the scalpel. “I’m a dead man, I thought.
He sensed my fear.
“Don’t worry. We keep all our instruments clean, he said with a reassuring nod.
Now, I was ready for the manicure and I was directed to a smaller table at the other end of the room. The woman could not believe how corroded my fingers were – I have a nervous habit of biting the skin around my fingers during exams. While clipping the top of my nails, what I hoped would not happen did happen: I got cut. I’m a dead man. I thought.
While the woman was finishing my fingers, another customer was met with a warm welcome. At first, I thought any male customer who would come to this place would be effeminate, but I immediately corrected this misconception as soon as I saw the smartly-dressed old man that walked in.
Most of the female customers seemed to be elderly women talking to employees as if they were their next-door neighbors. The usual subjects were everything from politics to simple gossip and everyone seemed at ease with one another.
While I was getting ready to leave, I managed to get a brief glimpse of the not-too-impressive décor of the place. The white walls were dappled with gray smudges and the only part of the place that I found artistically amusing was the glass designs of horseman next to the staircase, which were made of what looked like green marble.
Only across the small room was Lucie herself, the owner of this manicure joint.
She is a petit elderly lady, and I’m told, of Greek origins. She had a high-pitched raspy voice. She was sitting engulfed in conversation with her fellow colleagues and clients.
I gave her a nod of acknowledgement, paid my LE 55, and I was done with my first manicure and pedicure.
“Will we be seeing you next month? said a middle-aged man that I first met at the counter.
“God Willing, I responded as I pushed my way outside.
The results were impressive, and my nails were nicely buffed and filed. But I don’t think I will be able to keep that promise.
Maison Lucie33 Kasr El Nil Street,Downtown. Tel: 02-23932198.
