The first time I experienced Sephora was nearly 20 years ago, in Paris. I sat in the makeup chair while a frazzled Beauty Advisor attempted the impossible task of trying to match a foundation to my tear-stained cheeks.

At fourteen, the privilege of being inside these hallowed black walls under the glare of 4000K LEDs was surreal. We didn’t have one in Vancouver yet. But my older sister and I had just had our first real fight, on our first trip together. A real adult argument, something about our dads.

My sister stood off to the side checking her watch. The makeup artist was muttering something in French. She began sponging the thick ivory fluid along the sides of my nose. She tilted my chin up, but the tears kept spilling out of my eyes and streaking her handiwork. It was a moment too long before I sprang up and bolted, my sister trailing behind, apologising profusely.

It’s this moment I’m thinking of while queuing up for a first look inside the new Sephora store at Silverburn. The Temple of Beauty. Music is blaring from behind the black and white frontage as a greeter is strapping wristbands on the attendees. “Are you a plus one?” an associate asks my colleague, who nods. “Plus ones don’t get one,” he replies. “These are for the goodie bags.”

Her face falls. I stumble over my own apologies as we move into the “VIP celebration”. The DJ has somehow managed to turn it up to 11. We give up trying to speak to each other and grab the nearest glass of rosé, weaving through a sea of capri-clad influencers to the depths of the shop.

I love makeup. I love........

© Herald Scotland