I’ll admit that I ignore the majority of new beauty hacks, grooming tips and “It Girl” products.
It took me 20 years of practice to draw a natural-looking eyebrow… so why turn to stencils now? And do I really have the energy for more facial dew?
Still, I recently tried out a nail trend that’s suddenly everywhere in New York City: the Russian manicure.
Why I wanted to try a Russian manicure
My in-the-know friend mentioned Russian manis a few weeks ago, and, perhaps not surprisingly, I’d never heard of them. A quick Google inquiry turned up several basic explainers along with dozens of salons offering the service in the city (complete with breathless five-star reviews from their fans).
The author's nails, before and after a Russian manicure.
With a Russian manicure, the artist uses an electric filer along with specialized scissors or “nippers” to remove the cuticle — not just trim it and push it back, as is done during a standard manicure.
Also known as an “e-file manicure” and a “dry manicure,” the Russian mani takes longer than a regular gel — two to three hours as opposed to one to two — and will cost you $80-$100 versus $50-$60.
The technique is rumored to have originated in Russia, but none of the experts I reached out to for this piece could confirm it.
Regardless, the manager of the salon I would end up at, Elaine Lopes of Yara in the West Village, told me there’s chatter in the NYC nail world about the method needing a rebrand: “Russian” is inaccurate, since the e-file mani is performed all over the world. But now that the term has been blasted to every corner of the Internet, she said, it’s an uphill battle.
Turning to Instagram, I found an endless wall of fingernails so flawless they could have been make-believe – which, of course, is plausible in the age of AI.
Over on TikTok, I got a sense for the fervor. Influencers alleged the Russian manicure could “change your life — your existence — for the best.”
Close-up videos documented cuticles being carefully (and, yes, bloodlessly) cut away, after which the nail techs applied shiny gel polishes using tiny detailing brushes to clients’ natural nails.
Lopes confirms that its popularity exploded almost overnight about a year ago. The trend was further helped along last month when a New York influencer who describes her brand as “hot & healthy wellness” “finally found a 10/10 Russian mani spot” in Los Angeles — prompting gleeful thanks from her followers.
The author's nails before the manicure.
With mania comes polarization, and this cliché holds for the Russian mani. Its proponents on social media love the technique’s immaculate results, and say their cuticles grow back “cleaner” and that the manicure lasts up to four weeks — roughly twice as long as a regular gel mani — since the artist is able to apply polish closer to the root of the nail where cuticle tissue was removed.
Detractors, including some nail artists and many dermatologists, counter that the Russian manicure comes with risks: The cuticle “does serve a biologic function to protect the area of skin where the nail is produced,” said Dr. Joshua Zeichner, the director of cosmetic and clinical research at Mount Sinai Hospital's Department of Dermatology.
If the cuticle removal results in an infection, Zeichner said, “you run the risk of permanent damage to both the skin and the nail,” which may reappear with a divot or could even fail to grow back.
Why would someone like me, who disregards so much of the latest and greatest, ever contemplate a Russian manicure?
The author's nails after a Russian manicure.
Well, nicely painted nails make me feel put together — even on the frequent days when I don’t have time for other beauty layers.
Plus, as Hot & Happy put it: “High maintenance can be low maintenance” — meaning, invest extra time and money now, and your hands could look leveled-up gorgeous for the next month.
What it was like to try a Russian manicure
I started calling salons I’d learned about from friends and influencers. First, Aya in Chelsea, where the first available appointment was a week-and-a-half out. I tried calling a few more before finally settling on Yara, located at Christopher Street and Seventh Avenue, which had a spot for me six days out that I promptly snapped up.
When I arrived, I was offered tea and ushered to a comfy seat at Sergay’s station.
I braced myself for judgment as I showed him my hands, which, despite attractive bone structure, a nice shape and my best effort at preventative care, have been ravaged by UV rays, time, and a low-key nervous cuticle picking habit I’ve had since childhood.
Sergay showed no signs of disgust, was quietly friendly and communicative, and proceeded to give me the best manicure I’ve ever had. He was young — maybe in his mid-20s — and, as I’d soon learn, a nail prodigy.
First, he found my shortest nail – the middle one on my left hand had suffered an unfortunate tear two days before. Using a tool that resembled a protractor, he carefully measured and filed all of my nails to precisely the same length.
Next came the intensive cuticle work. Starting with a flattened wooden stick, he gently pushed my cuticles toward the upper edges. Then he selected an electric nail filer drill bit and gently filed excess cuticle from my nails.
Then he pulled a pair of nippers from a sealed plastic envelope and gently removed cuticle skin that had been separated from the nail. It neither hurt nor bled, and was actually relaxing and easy, sort of like having your hair washed.
Finally, Sergay applied a nail primer followed by the gel lacquer, which was deposited thickly onto the center of each nail, then spread evenly and with minute detail using a very tiny paintbrush.
As he painted, he turned my hand every which way to find suitable angles for edge work, and to honor the “apex” of my nail — the natural curve of the nail bed that traditional gel manis often obscure under several thick coats of paint.
Each finger went into the UV contraption — which dries and hardens the gel polish — only once, while my thumbs went in twice. I was surprised when Sergay said we were done — just one coat? — but the results looked stunning.
While the experience didn't change my life, it totally enhanced my day (and probably my week) and reminded me of how valuable it is to put myself in the care of experts from time to time.
What to know before you go
The nail tech shouldn’t remove your entire cuticle.
“They always leave a little of it to protect the skin,” Lopes said. “Actually, the electric filer is gentler than just using nippers, which can get too close to the finger skin a lot easier.” Lopes said her salon has never had a complaint about cuts or infections.
The artist should spend a good hour just on cuticle pushing and filing. When it comes time for the nippers, the cuts should be small, effortless and superficial. Lopes also advised anyone getting a Russian manicure to speak up if anything feels off or painful.
How long the Russian manicure lasts depends on your nail and rate of growth.
Lopes said that most clients don’t come back for three to four weeks, but nail variations influence the likelihood of breakage.
Expect to wait.
When looking for an appointment for this service, I was waitlisted two out of three times. Lopes confirms that there is always a healthy waitlist at Yara. Book well in advance if you don’t want to take chances.
Consider going bold.
My one regret was that I didn’t follow through with my plan to choose a nice fall red (dang nude nail trend!). The Russian manicure's flawlessness would be even more arresting with a bright color.
