While in Noo Yawk last week, I spent a lot of time in Sephora. There are 12 stores across Manhattan and I think I made it across the threshold of each of them.
Sephora is quite simply a make-up junkies paradise on earth. It's not just that they have shelf after shelf heaving with every cosmetics, skincare and haircare range you've ever heard of. It's not just that they have every accessory, accoutrement, implement or tool that a product lover could ever desire. It's not just that their Urban Decay stands are things of pristine, organised beauty rather than... yokes that look like a glitter-lovin' kamikaze pilot crashed into them.
It's not even that they carry nearly-freakin-impossible-to-get-in-the-home-country brands: stuff from Frederic Fekkai et al. sits within easy reach and looks on incredulously as I clutch Himself and hiss "Do you know how hard it is to get this stuff in Ireland?!"
Advertised
Sephora is the sum of these parts coupled with my absolute favourite thing about the place: the numerous little "try it, try it!" stations dotted throughout every store. Where the Irish equivalent provides a single smudged, too-high, badly lit mirror between 35 girleens and no receptacle for used tissues, in Sephora there's a choice of sparkling mirrors - big and static or small, illuminated and adjustable - and mini pedal bins at each station. Oh, and bottles of alcohol, make-up remover and water, together with tissues, cotton wool, cotton buds, disposable make-up sponges, mascara wands and eyeshadow and lipgloss applicators. Sephora basically leave out everything you could possibly need for a hygenic testing experience and lets you have a good ol' play with the products at your own leisure. There are no lurking sales assistants here to lep out and screech "Can I help you with something?" the minute you pick up a tester.
Oh God. I'm not even back a week and already I miss it so much!
