Ladyfingers they’re not. They sand, bang, contort, and tug. They get poked by the prickly, stuck in the sticky, and spend too much time in water. From flamenco dancer (wrists that twist, palms that slap a beat) to fish-cutter (hands in slimy slush at dawn), these women work their fingers to the bone.

And thus are the ultimate experts on hand care.

Like the rest of us, they wish their hands looked younger and felt softer. They’ve tried every fix-all on the market. Their array of emollients is as varied as their talents. 

They also radiate pride in their stains, sprains, and scars—a precious record of what their hands can do. That message may be the most healing thing to absorb.

Pearl Chin, 60. Knitty City owner

Hands on: Knit one, crochet two.

Thumbs down: “I work with all kinds of yarn. Corriedale and Shetland give good stitch definition, but they’re rough. When I make kimono scarves, I use silk fibers, and vegetable fibers like soy and bamboo, which are sleek and thin, so on older hands they can cut.”

Pointers: “Little round bars of Lavishea lotion (which I sell in the shop). It’s good for knitters because it isn’t greasy, it just melts. Rubbing it in becomes sort of meditative.” 

Rebeca Tomás, 34. Flamenco dancer

Hands on: Snap, clap, flex, wield a fan “like a butterfly knife” (The New York Times).

Thumbs down: Extreme postures under intense scrutiny.

Pointers: “A gazillion moisturizers—from homemade honey bee balm with lavender that my husband brings back from Malawi every summer, to Weleda Sea Buckthorn Hand Cream at night, to good old Nivea, which I buy in the travel size and bring to my gigs. I religiously put it on before I go onstage, to better the sound of my palmas (rhythmic hand-clapping) and make sure my palms and fingers don’t crack.”    

Pamela Hepburn, 64. Licensed tugboat captain

Hands on: Restoring the 1907 tug Pegasus, with which she ferried train-toting barges from New Jersey to Brooklyn (while raising a daughter aboard).   

Thumbs down: “Working with hands sure can wreck ’em.” Handling lines plus making “fussy” repairs on small pieces of machinery are as tough on nails and hands as towing a ton. She uses Gojo hand cleaner —“man stuff, very intense, so it takes moisture out.”

Pointers: Nightly, Nivea and Burt’s Bees’ Lemon Butter Cuticle Cream.

Judit Lantos, 62. Cosmetologist at Eva of New York

Hands on: Facials—cleansing, massaging, masks.

Thumbs down: Washing, washing, washing, and not just at work. “When I get home, I wash my hands even before I take my coat off.”

Pointers: Buy colorful stretch gloves at the dollar store and wear them everywhere, even pushing a cart in the supermarket. After cooking, erase strong smells with fresh-cut lemon. Hand cream at bedtime: Avon Silicone Glove or CeraVe—“just on the back of my hands, because I don’t want to get it on my face. I let my skin breathe at night.”

Elizabeth Ryan, 51. Floral designer

Hands on: Juxtaposes posies from bouquets to blooming ballrooms. “Extraordinary,” says Zagat. “Down and dirty,” says she.

Thumbs down: “Your hands get very cut up. Your nails get absolutely filthy. Usually my thumb is black with hatchmarks. Some florists use surgical gloves. Not me. There are certain flowers—euphorbia, tweedia—that have a milky substance and can be very sticky. Roses! Some are horrendous, with thorns covering the stem. You have to use a paper towel to shield your hands. With peeling poppies—it’s like a pod over the flower—you have to dig your nail under there to pull it off. The worst season is Christmas, when holly pricks your hands with tiny, tiny cuts—the leaves have little points, like needles. And pine! The sap oozes out right into the painful cuts.”

Pointers: Used Ajax or Comet to attack sap, “getting rid of damage with more damage. Then, after 20 years, I learned that all you have to do is put on baby oil and rub it around. The sap vanishes!” Lotion throughout the day. “I’m not picky. There’s a big vat of something at Whole Foods, and in Brooklyn you can get a slice of shea butter on the street around Nostrand and Fulton.” 

Sherrie Maricle, 47. Lead drummer in the DIVA Jazz Orchestra and New York Pops percussionist

Hands on: Plays snare, bass, tom-toms, hi-hats, cymbals.

Thumbs down: “It’s not always sticks. I use the middle finger of my right hand for a ‘friction roll’—I lick it so it’s sticky enough to create friction against the drumhead. I flick my fingers into the drumhead, sometimes sequentially from the pinky: the castanet technique. I scratch with my fingernails to simulate a shaker effect. I use the heel of my hand, the tips of my fingers, and the side—like a karate chop. I’ve broken blood vessels in my thumb, which then turns purple and looks scarier than it is.”

Pointers: Neutrogena with sesame oil. Skin Trip because it smells like coconut. Stretches: each finger back and forth as far as it’ll go. Same with wrists. Hot-water soaks, for circulation. 

Toni Lynn Dickinson, 52. Pastry chef–instructor at the French Culinary Institute

Hands on: Whisk, stir, blend, fold. Voilà!  Dessert!

Thumbs down: “I’m germ-phobic, so I wash my hands after most anything, and they get really dry.”

Pointers: “My hands can’t be covered in some fragrant lotion. So I use olive oil, food-grade cocoa butter, and safflower oil as moisturizers. They’re good for the skin and food-friendly.” When not baking: “Another chef introduced me to Sebamed lotion with avocado, and it’s wonderful. It coats your skin with a moisture barrier that stands up to a lot of washing. So does Almost Butter from Kiss My Face. Smells fabulous!” At night: A generous dollop of shea butter topped with gel-lined gloves.  

Sheelin Wilson, 51. Gilder and conservator

Hands on: Restores and reproduces antiquities—furniture, surfaces, objets.

Thumbs down: “So gone are my hands!  I’ve tortured them so much! I gild, lacquer, paint. I make my own gessos. I deal with chemicals, abrasives, solvents. I wash a lot of brushes. There’s a lot of repetitive motion—I get cramps. I buy doctors’ latex gloves to protect me from pigments and stains, and sometimes I rub soap under my nails as a barrier...but I can’t use gloves when I sand.” Worst scenario: wet-sanding and dry-sanding on the same day. “I’ve actually sanded off my finger pads. I could be a mass murderer and they couldn’t trace me with fingerprints, because I have none left.”

Pointers: Massage with lemon juice, sugar, olive oil. 

Ivy Grier, 60. Fish cutter at Smitty’s Fillet House in the New Fulton Fish Market

Hands on: Fillet, skin, and chill flounder and cod from 1 a.m. to 9.30 a.m.

Thumbs down: Water...and worse. “I wear yellow rubber gloves, but you can get a hole in them from a fin.” Cut “only three times in 20 years,” but all required stitches. Then there’s the smell. “That is one hard thing.” 

Pointers: Irish Spring soap and Sweet Pea hand cream.

Eats fish? “I prefer chicken.”

Ellen Stern and Nancy Weber, charter contributors to NYCitywoman, are working on a book about hands.