The American dream, one nail at a time

Even before Hoa Thi Le left Vietnam, she heard about California's booming nail business from her brothers and sisters. All six became manicurists after arriving in the United States.

So when Le arrived in Southern California in December, she went to beauty school.

"My family told me, 'Do nails. It's easy,' " said Le, 49, as she practiced brushing hot-pink polish on a woman's toenails at Advance Beauty College in Garden Grove, Calif.

These days, it's hard to meet a manicurist who isn't Vietnamese. In California, Vietnamese Americans make up an estimated 80 percent of nail technicians, according to the industry's trade publication. Nationwide, it's 43 percent. Washington state does not track jobs by ethnicity.

"The Vietnamese have taken over the nail industry," said Tam Nguyen, who operates the beauty school his refugee parents started. "They began serving a niche that wasn't served by Americans. And boom!"

They've also transformed a business that once was an indulgence for the pampered and wealthy, and turned it into an affordable U.S. routine.

In the 1970s, manicures cost up to $60. But waves of Vietnamese manicurists, mostly refugees who happily settled for low wages, slashed prices. Now manicures and pedicures go for as little as $15 in some markets.

The nail industry has become an easy path to success for Vietnamese Americans, who discovered they needed little training and could get by with limited English. Before they know how to apply a top coat or scrape off calluses, Vietnamese newcomers have jobs lined up at relatives' salons. Some arrive with plans to open their own shops.

Salons across the Midwest and East Coast advertise for workers in Southern California's Vietnamese-language newspapers. Cosmetology-licensing tests in California and Texas are given in Vietnamese. And the industry's trade magazine has a glossy Vietnamese-language version, VietSalon.

A story of chance

The story of how the Vietnamese fell into the nail industry is one of chance, of how 20 women who fled their war-torn country happened to meet a Hollywood actress with beautiful nails.

The women were former teachers, business owners and government officials who came to the United States in 1975 after the fall of Saigon and landed in Hope Village, a tent city for Vietnamese refugees near Sacramento.

Actress Tippi Hedren, drawn to the plight of Vietnamese refugees, visited every few days. The Vietnamese knew little of Hollywood, so Hedren showed them Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" and pointed out her face on the screen.

Hedren was captivated by the refugees' stories of their homeland. They were fascinated by her nails: long, oval, the color of coral.

"I noticed that these women were very good with their hands," said Hedren, now 78. "I thought, why couldn't they learn how to do nails?"

So Hedren flew in her manicurist once a week to teach the women how to trim cuticles, remove calluses and perform nail wraps. She persuaded a nearby beauty school to teach the women and helped them find jobs.

Thuan Le, a high-school teacher in Vietnam, passed her nail-licensing exam four months after arriving in Hope Village.

"Any profession that was taught to us, we would learn it," Le said. "We had no idea if it was going to be successful or not."

Hedren helped Le find a job at a salon in Santa Monica. It wasn't easy work. Le did not have clients, manicures were not in vogue and the tools of the trade were hard to find. She scoured hardware stores for very fine sandpaper to user in place of a buffer.

Seeing Le's success, one of her high-school friends from Vietnam decided to get into the business. Within a few years, Kien Nguyen and her husband, Diem, opened one of the first beauty salons run by Vietnamese Americans.

Diem Nguyen, a former South Vietnamese navy commander, enrolled in beauty school himself and encouraged friends to get into the nail business. By 1987, the Nguyens had opened Advance Beauty College in Little Saigon, a neighborhood in Orange County, Calif., translating classes into Vietnamese.

Such success stories spread to thousands of Vietnamese refugees who came to the United States, hoping to rebuild their lives.

Some Vietnamese salons that tried to compete with higher-end shops flopped because of limited English skills and poor business acumen. It led salons to cut prices and offer bare-bones services, the so-called Vietnamese discount salon, where manicures were as cheap as $10.

Handling challenges

The work can be grueling and unpleasant. The pay varies. And for high-aspiring Vietnamese, it is a humble career.

Vietnamese salons also battle a reputation of being unsanitary and offering shoddy services. A handful of salons have been hit with health complaints resulting from clients' contracting bacterial infections from dirty foot spas.

The Vietnamese nail shops also fueled resentment from high-end salons.

"Some nail technicians feel they can't compete with Vietnamese salons," said Hannah Lee, editor of Nails Magazine. "There is a point where the prices are too low and nail technicians are not making what their services are worth."

Vietnamese Americans are also making inroads into the beauty-product, manufacturing, design and foot-spa business.

"Every spa chair, every nail tip, every color polish, the Vietnamese are starting to dominate," Tam Nguyen said. "We own it; we use it."

As for Hoa Thi Le, she passed her licensing exam in Vietnamese and is looking for a job and dreams of starting a salon with her siblings.