Author
Hi, I'm Ori — yes, I made it myself. Yes, I'll show you how.
I'm Orianna Vanessa Delgado — Ori to everyone — licensed nail tech, lifelong crocheter, thrift-flip devotee, and the hands behind Oriessa.
First, the name: when my little sister Bianca was a toddler, "Orianna Vanessa" was too much mouth for her, so she mashed it into Oriessa. The family never let it go, and twenty years later, neither did I. Some things you don't fix; you brand them.
I grew up Filipino-American in National City, California, in a loud, wonderful, multi-generational house where everything was handmade twice over. My Lola Remedios — a seamstress back in Cebu before she came here — sat me in her lap at eight years old, put a crochet hook in my hands, and said the sentence this entire website is built on: "Why buy it, anak, when your hands are free?" The beauty half of me was raised two doors down, in my Tita Marilou's home salon, where the aunties got their nails, their hair, and their chisme handled simultaneously every weekend. I was painting designs on my cousins' nails by twelve. By high school, I'd made or altered half my own closet — partly because money was tight, entirely with pride.
After graduation, I did it the proper way: cosmetology program, then my California manicurist license, then nine years as a professional nail technician — four in a high-volume salon learning speed, five at a design studio where my hand-painted sets built a client book I loved. I started Oriessa in 2019 to share my made-not-bought outfits and nail work, and when the tutorials started outgrowing my appointment book, I took the leap: full-time on the blog since 2023. I still take a few clients every month, though. It keeps my hands honest.
Here's what Oriessa promises you:
Every flex comes with a tutorial. Nothing on this site is just "look what I made." If I show it, I teach it — with exact costs ("this set was $6 in materials") and honestly timed durations, including my professional-speed disclaimer: what takes me 45 minutes should get 90 on your first try.
Nail health before nail art. Nine years in salons made this non-negotiable: proper prep in every tutorial, safe soak-off removal always, and a clear "see a professional in person" whenever a nail situation is beyond a blog post. I'm a licensed manicurist — and only a licensed manicurist, so skin and hair content here is experienced-enthusiast level, clearly labeled, with referrals where health is involved.
Patterns tested on real bodies. Every wearable goes through my official sizing panel — also known as my cousins — across a genuine range of sizes, and they're thanked by name.
Honest math, both directions. Handmade isn't always cheaper or faster than buying, and I'll never pretend otherwise. When it is, I show the receipt. When it isn't, I tell you what you're paying for instead: the joy, and the answer to "where did you get that?"
These days I make everything from a sunny San Diego duplex, in a craft-room-slash-nail-station I call the lab, alongside my fiancé Dre (graphic designer, reluctant hand-letterer of my gift tags) and Chisme, our foster-fail chihuahua mix, who has opinions. Sunday nail nights — inherited straight from Tita Marilou's salon — now happen at my place. I thrift every weekend under one strict rule: nothing comes home without a transformation plan. And yes, I'm currently planning my wedding in public here, complete with a running "handmade vs. bought" tracker that readers have turned into a spectator sport.
Forty percent of my closet is handmade or hand-altered — I audit it annually, because of course I do. The goal was never one hundred. The goal is that feeling when someone stops you at the farmers market to ask about your bag, and you get to say the best two words in the world: I made it.
Come get that feeling. Your hands are free — go make something,
Ori 💅
