Temples of retail

The entrance faces north-west onto one of the main streets of the city, a busy spot in the urban fabric. The arched windows and narrow columns of the brick façade stand high above you as you approach. Along the south-west wall there are two lesser entrances off a narrow lane. The temple is a sanctuary from the heat and sun outside, but is far from an empty contemplative environment. You enter to find the interior warmly lit and filled with colourful artefacts. Marble plinths display choice relics. There are trees both living and sculpted; a wooden palm bequeathed by Charlotte Tilbury is garlanded with lightbulbs. Worship here is active and tactile. Beyoncé's Summer Renaissance pulses through the air, priming you to spend a thousand dollars on candles.

The front of the temple is the busiest area with a large altar. The sacrifices here are bloodless and no wine is spilled nor fat burned. Stone fountains and mirrors with micellar water are dotted around for worshippers’ purification. You proceed past murals commemorating the discovery of novel formulae in the battle against aging. Deeper in the sanctuary there are votive offerings piled high on shrines to fertility, sleep and sensitive skin. There are flowers, crystals and glass jars of botanical matter. You hold a candle that smells like tomato leaves - “a monument to the love apple”. Your ancestors are watching you as you smell the wax. You would be honouring your entire bloodline by spending $200 on the tomato candle. But you must weigh it against other sacrifices.

You ascend to the upper level. There is an auditorium here where worshippers are initiated into the mysteries of advanced aesthetics. You pass a counter for permanent jewellery, which sounds like a threat. All throughout the temple complex there are priests, priestesses and oracles. There are hidden chambers where rituals of peeling, laser and needling are carried out. After these discreet mortifications of the flesh, cultists can visit the tea rooms to recover. You are not devoting yourself at that level today. At the shrine to Margiela you caress a candle dedicated to the hearth. Touch enhances connection to divinity. It doesn’t even have a price on it and you’re afraid to ask. You are facing the big windows again, from the inside this time. The upper level is radiant and intricately tiled. You approach the most intricate shrine of all, shining with glass cloches and bottles.

You could anoint yourself to the point of annoying everyone around you, but you content yourself with paying quiet tribute to Dries, Diptyque and Le Labo. Tinctures with smoky and animalic notes evoke the ancient sites of worship. The gods have never been closer. You catch your own eye in one of the spotless and perfectly-lit mirrored surfaces. You are ready for the altar.

Sources
Pausanias, Description of Greece - https://topostext.org/work/213