Sephora is a mecca for cosmetics, and it supports what I enjoy: You go into the store, and touch it, and try it, and love it. I've never bought anything on the Internet. I like experience.

Touch it, try it, actually know it

There's something almost rebellious about Marc Jacobs insisting on tactile experience in an age where we're told everything should be frictionless and fast. He's not wrong—there's a real difference between seeing a lipstick shade on a screen and actually feeling the weight of it in your hand, testing how it looks against your skin in different light. That gap between image and reality matters more than we admit when we're scrolling through options at midnight.

What's interesting is that he's defending something that feels increasingly old-fashioned: slowness, sensory involvement, the willingness to spend time in a physical space just exploring. Yet that's exactly what makes those experiences sticky in memory. We remember how things felt, not just what they looked like. In a world optimizing for convenience, there's an underrated pleasure in wandering into a store with permission to try things without commitment, to let discovery happen instead of hunting for exactly what you already know you want.

This also hints at something deeper about consumption itself. Maybe the point isn't just about cosmetics—it's about whether we want to be passive browsers or active experimenters. Jacobs is basically saying he'd rather know something through his own senses than trust an algorithm or a photo. That kind of skepticism toward convenience feels increasingly valuable.