With regards to St. Patrick’s Day, my (Irish) mother is fond of saying the Irish don’t need a special day to binge drink and get rowdy – the impetus is always there; the beast just needs to be let out of its cage. I’m not quite so militant about St. Paddy’s Day, but I’ve never cared much to get in touch with my Celtic roots in any way that would require me to stand in a horribly crowded, faux-Irish “pub” with 500 drunken strangers shouting “I’m River Dancing!” whilst sloshing green beer all over myself. That’s pretty much my idea of hell. That and one of those white parties on a yacht off the coast of Ibiza. So in lieu of engaging in either of those activities (although one of these things is not like the other!) I’ll sport this cloverrific mani instead.