Bloomie Nails has opened a block away from me. It joins the one that is three blocks away from me and the one that is six blocks away. That's a lot of Bloomie Nails. As someone who has never had much of a nail-biting problem and who clips his nails with some regularity, I've never otherwise paid much attention to those constantly growing parts of my anatomy. Manicures have always struck me as kind of silly, even a laughable sign of vanity. What's the big deal about having polished nails? What's the purpose of absolutely neat cuticles? Folks for whom this is of utmost importance are not necessarily the folks for whom I'm living my life.

So the proliferation of Bloomie Nails, which is some kind of chain, has me concerned. The Bloomie Nails outlets are bigger than just about any of their independent competitors. (The name is a play on Manhattan's famous department store, Bloomingdale's.) Whereas the smaller stores have maybe a dozen tables at which diligent manicurists and pedicurists ply their trade, the Bloomie Nails branches look to have 30 or more set-ups and almost an equal number of bustling employees as well as all manner of supplementary appliances. The shops look like nail-treatment factories.

Normally, I would have just grinned and borne this new encroachment. But one thing about it truly gets my goat: This spanking new Bloomie Nails has replaced a neighboring eatery called the Bendix Diner. A decidedly down-market restaurant decorated to look like the inside of a jukebox, the Bendix, as locals called it, was a pleasant place to get a cheap omelette and some home fries. Moreover, the very long and usually finger-print-stained menu was amusing. The chef, whoever he or she was, had a crush on Thai food, and the proprietors also thought to include soy milk as one of the amenities. Eclectic, economical, unpretentious that was the Bendix.

But if the Bendix, which had been on the site for maybe 10 years, could do a low-cost eggs-however breakfast or noodle dinner, there was apparently something it couldn't do. Meet rent hikes. And that's where Bloomie Nails came in. Chain stores usually have the wherewithal to move into increasingly popular areas, where that very popularity is inflating property values. Chain-store power is, of course, the explanation for the malling of America and, more immediately, why New York City, once a leader in retailing, is now just another strip shopping center.

There is, however, good news. At least, good news for me, if not for Bloomie Nails and the couple dozen young (Korean?) women who toil there. The establishment opened its doors only a couple of weeks ago. The store is so new that the congratulatory floral arrangements are still flourishing. Business doesn't seem to be, though. Every time I pass, which can be half a dozen times a day and gaze through the wrap-around windows, I see only a few customers being attended to. The rest of the eager personnel relaxes in the wide-open spaces and chats.

This, by the way, doesn't surprise me. As a matter of fact, when it became evident that Bloomie Nails was moving in, I asked myself, What are they thinking? My neighborhood, Chelsea, is populated by a certain number of post-Yuppie families, even more lower-middle class families and a notably large population of homosexual men and women. Who do the Bloomie Nails decision-makers think is going to patronize the new store, I mused. Homosexual women don't seem to make a big deal about their nails; homosexual men are much more interested in bulking up their physiques than buffing their nails; blue-collar workers wouldn't likely see keeping nails tidy as a wise investment. That leaves the post Yuppies. Not enough, I would think, to make Bloomie Nails thrive.

I'll be watching to see what happens. It ought to be a real nail-biter.

Also by David Finkle:
Coffee house blues
The zen of jay-walking
Changing places
Darkness at noon
Union Square
Making it real
Wake up chillun
Flying the flag
Pleasantville
An ill wind
The absolute place to be
Small change
Memory Loss