The Store I Look for in Every New City

For the past decade, there has been one place I plan to visit whenever I arrive somewhere new.

Every journey begins differently.

Sometimes with the excitement of arriving at a railway station. Sometimes with the familiar rhythm of wheeling a suitcase across cobblestones. Sometimes with nothing more than a morning walk through an unfamiliar neighbourhood.

Yet over the past ten years, I have realised that many of my trips somehow involve visiting a store - Aesop.

Not because I’ve forgotten to pack my skincare.

My suitcase almost always contains everything I need.

Instead, I’m curious.

I want to see how the same philosophy has found a home in another city.

That quiet ritual has followed me from Kuala Lumpur to Hong Kong, London, Rome, Oslo, Bangkok and Shanghai.

Every store feels different.

Every visit feels familiar.

My relationship with Aesop began in Kuala Lumpur.

At the time, I was working in the leasing team at Pavilion Kuala Lumpur, where Aesop was one of our tenants. Naturally, I became curious. Working in retail meant understanding not only what brands sold, but why they resonated with people.

The first product I bought was the Geranium Leaf Body Cleanser.

I still remember using it for the first time.

It was the scent that stayed with me.

Fresh.

Herbal.

Gentle.

There was nothing loud about it.

Even today, whenever I try products from another brand, geranium somehow becomes my point of reference. It has become a scent I associate with calmness and familiarity, and in many ways it reflects the kind of things I naturally gravitate towards - quiet rather than attention-seeking, understated rather than dramatic.

Without realising it, that first bottle became the beginning of a relationship that has now lasted a decade.

Today, Aesop has become part of my everyday life.

There was even a period when I explored other skincare brands for about a year.

Eventually I found myself returning.

Not because nothing else worked.

But because I realised how much I value consistency.

The bottles have become so familiar that I rarely think about them anymore.

They’re simply there, accompanying the beginning and end of each day.

Beyond the Products

The products introduced me to Aesop.

The stores kept me coming back.

No two Aesop stores are alike.

As someone who spent years working in retail leasing, I know how tempting it is for brands to repeat the same formula from one city to another.

The same facade.

The same shelving.

The same floor plan.

The same experience.

Aesop has consistently chosen another path.

Each store responds to its surroundings.

The architecture changes.

The materials change.

The atmosphere changes.

Yet somehow the philosophy remains unmistakably the same.

What I admire isn’t minimalism.

It’s restraint.

Every decision feels intentional.

Creative, without trying to be unconventional.

Confident, without needing to announce itself.

Whenever I walk into an Aesop store, I notice the space before I notice the products.

The light.

The materials.

The joinery.

The way the shelves have been composed.

The flow through the room.

Everything feels considered.

I rarely walk into simply because I’ve run out of cleanser.

I’m hoping to discover something.

Sometimes it’s a product.

Sometimes it’s a conversation.

Sometimes it’s simply another beautifully designed room.

A Cabinet of Mystery

My favourite Aesop store no longer exists.

It was the flagship on Via del Corso in Rome.

Perhaps knowing that it has closed makes the memories even stronger.

Walnut.

Travertino Romano.

Brass.

Artisanal lime plaster.

Burnt orange lacquer.

Nothing felt decorative for the sake of decoration.

Everything had intention.

Upstairs stood a cabinet displaying the fragrances.

The first time I saw it, I smiled and said to the staff who attended to me,

“It feels like a cabinet of mystery.”

She smiled.

I still think that’s the perfect description.

Some places remain with us long after they’ve disappeared.

Different Cities, The Same Feeling

Some of my memories of Aesop are inseparable from the cities themselves.

In Hong Kong, I often walked past the flagship on Gough Street after work. The street felt quieter then, long before other fragrance houses arrived. Even now, whenever I think of that district, I still picture the familiar storefront.

In London, visiting Aesop became part of wandering neighbourhoods I already loved. There’s an Aesop store opposite Borough Market. I recently wrote a piece on my London visit.

In Oslo, stepping inside offered a welcome contrast to the cold outside.

In Shanghai, the experience felt different again. Another architectural language, another interpretation of the same philosophy.

Th products remained familiar.

The cities never did.

Hospitality Begins with a Hello

Over the years, I’ve realised that what keeps me returning isn’t only thoughtful design.

It’s hospitality.

I’ve always enjoyed talking to the staff.

Not because they’re trying to sell me something, but because they seem genuinely interested in understanding what suits me, how my routine changes with the seasons, or simply how my day has been.

Those conversations have become part of the experience.

Perhaps that’s why I notice something very simple whenever I enter a shop.

Does someone acknowledge that I’ve arrived?

A smile.

A hello.

Eye contact.

Those small gestures matter more than people often realise.

If nobody looks up, I usually leave.

Not because the products aren’t good.

Because hospitality begins long before a purchase.

It begins with making someone feel welcome.

Morning in Umbria

Before I walk into the kitchen each morning, there is another ritual that quietly begins the day.

I reach almost instinctively for the familiar bottles in my bathroom.

They have simply become part of the rhythm of everyday life.

Only afterwards do I walk into the kitchen.

I open the windows and let the cool Umbrian air drift inside.

The moka pot goes onto the stove.

I light a Murasaki incense stick.

While the coffee brews, I prepare breakfast.

Usually toast.

Sometimes with peanut butter.

Sometimes with Kaya that I’ve carried home from Malaysia because some comforts deserve a place in every suitcase.

I sit down.

Close my eyes.

Take a deep breath.

The hinoki scent slowly fills the room.

A few moments later, the coffee is ready.

That’s when my day begins.

Following a Philosophy

If I imagined Aesop as a person, they would be calm.

Creative without being eccentric.

Reflective.

Composed.

Disciplined in every decision.

The more I thought about it, the more I think those are also the qualities I look for when I travel.

Hotels.

Restaurants.

Bookshops.

Cafes.

Places that don’t compete for attention.

Places that know exactly what they are.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve continued returning for the past ten years.

Each visit reminds me that thoughtful design, genuine hospitality and quiet consistency still matter.

Looking back, I realise I’ve never visited Aesop stores simply to buy skincare.

I’ve gone to see how a familiar philosophy takes shape in a different city.

That’s what keeps me returning.

Not the products alone.

But the spaces, the conversations and the feeling that every store has something new to notice.

Unless otherwise credited, all photography and written content are original works by Foodie Goes Travel.