11 a.m.: The Welcome Cabana, the Playroom, Printemps, 1 Wall Street, New York

I’m standing at a circular kiosk under a cheerful awning—the kind you might see at an ice cream stand on a stylish beach in the south of France. But this is actually the customer service desk, or “welcome cabana,” of Printemps’ new U.S. flagship at 1 Wall Street in Manhattan. I’ve visited this recently opened store twice before: first for a hard-hat tour during construction, and again for the opening night party, where the line of excited guests stretched down Broadway for blocks.

Since then, the crowds haven’t slowed much—Printemps has become a genuine New York sensation. In these chaotic times (and that’s putting it mildly), maybe the simple, timeless joy of browsing a beautifully designed store is the escape we all need. Especially when that store is the work of interior designer Laura Gonzalez, who has turned it into a dazzling sensory experience—like Alice’s Wonderland, but with clothing racks, cocktails, and cafés. That got me thinking: What if I revived my short-lived retail career (I worked at London’s Liberty department store in the 1990s—my sales record was… debatable) and actually worked a shift at Printemps to see what the hype was all about?

So here I am at the kiosk, right in the middle of a Jacquemus pop-up (though by the time you read this, it’ll have transformed into a special space for the Disney x Coperni collaboration, launching April 16). Mary Collins, a Client Experience Advisor, is my guide for my “workday”—a four-hour shift from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Along with her colleagues Claire, Davon, and Rafael, she’s helping me get the hang of things. This is Mary’s first major job back in New York after studying in California, and she’s loving it. Her role, she explains, is “to highlight the fairy dust sprinkled everywhere. Whatever a client needs—making reservations, giving tours, helping them shop for shoes, even fetching them a glass of Champagne while they browse—I’m there.” Right now, Mary and I are greeting the steady stream of visitors, even on this unseasonably chilly April morning: locals, tourists, parents with strollers, and even dogs (yes, pets are welcome).

What greets you when you enter Printemps New York: The Playroom, featuring an immersive sneaker display.
(Photo: © Gieves Anderson/Courtesy of Printemps)

The sprawling first-floor Playroom—built from recycled materials, Mary tells me—is “always changing and evolving; our slogan is that we’re not a department store.” It’s a treasure trove of Marni bucket hats, rows of Le Chocolat de Français candy bars, Balenciaga’s silver Le City bags, The Attico dresses, books about Saint-Tropez, Grimaud tarot-inspired playing cards, oversized striped totes from Printemps’ own line, Saison 1865 (a steal at $65), and Acne Studios’ sneaker-ballet flat hybrids. (A selection of French brands are exclusive to Printemps in New York—25% in clothing, 50% in beauty.) One side room is dedicated to a Nike “immersion” experience, showcasing rare sneaker designs, while to the left is Café Jalu, one of Printemps’ five restaurants and bars.

Up the escalator on the second floor is the Salon, where huge birdcage structures display clothes arranged—true to the store’s style—by color, mood, and attitude rather than brand. Here, labels like Lemaire, Maison Margiela, Jil Sander, Courrèges, and a Hudson, NY-based brand called The Falls (which I’d never heard of but is fantastic, with its upcycled, repurposed, and embroidered pieces) are all mixed together. Nearby, a wall showcases handbags from Joseph Duclos, a luggage maker founded in 1754 for King Louis XV. (You can only buy them here or at the Duclos boutique in Paris.)Here’s the rewritten text in clear and natural English:

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The store in Paris is closed—don’t even bother looking online.

The Garçonnière menswear section features cool clothes, along with equally stylish curved furniture and striking chandeliers.

Photo: © Gieves Anderson/Courtesy of Printemps

Next, you pass through the Garçonnière menswear area—lit by massive Murano glass chandeliers—and the beauty section, designed like a winding Vallauris pottery corridor, before entering the Boudoir. Unsurprisingly, it has an evening vibe, with vintage Dior and Saint Laurent, as well as made-to-order Gaultier Couture (12-week lead time) and trendy younger brands like Vautrait, Oud, and Magda Butrym. Finally, you descend the pink quartz staircase (hopefully not literally) to the shoe department in the Red Room. With the adjoining Red Room Bar, you can sip a margarita while shopping for Manolo Blahniks until 11 p.m.

*The Boudoir, featuring vintage Yves Saint Laurent, Vautrait, and Gaultier haute couture.
Photo: © Gieves Anderson/Courtesy of Printemps*

Soon, Mary and I are retracing our steps with first-time visitors Bonnie and Annette, who came all the way from 95th Street. Bonnie tells me she still prefers shopping in person. “I know young people buy online,” she says, “but I want to see it, touch it, try it on—and I don’t want to deal with returns.” She approves of the location. “This is Wall Street—everything’s happening here. All the young people are around, like my grandkids.”

As we ride the escalator back up to the Salon, Bonnie—looking chic in her vintage black Jean Paul Gaultier coat (I recognized it by the discreet tag)—is intrigued to hear the store carries Gaultier couture. “Shopping isn’t easy at my age, but this feels like an outing, and I’m enjoying it,” she says.

Bonnie’s thinking about an upcoming Bahamas wedding, though she already has an outfit planned. “I have to look put together—I’m the grandma, okay?” she tells me. “I’m wearing a big cream cabbage rose hat, wide pleated pants, an old Chanel blouse, and a Chanel pearl necklace. I got the necklace from the Chanel store in Paris. We used to go all the time, but now? Never.” She sighs. “But Paris is where my heart is.”

12:15 p.m.: Café Jalu and Salon Vert

I don’t get to hear more about Bonnie’s wedding look because assistant general manager Francisco “Frank” Polanco arrives to guide me through the next part of my day: shadowing him as he checks the store’s dining spots, designed for quick breaks or leisurely meals. Though he and Serge, Café Jalu’s head barista, briefly consider having me make a latte, the customer line and my obvious confusion at the coffee machine suggest now isn’t the time. Instead, Frank and I head to Salon Vert, the raw bar and restaurant—one of five food and drink spots in the store, all overseen by chef Gregory Gourdet.

*Salon Vert on the second floor.
Photo: © Gieves Anderson/Courtesy of Printemps*

Gregory’s Haitian influence is everywhere at Printemps, from Café Jalu’s guava pastries and pink juice (strawberry, watermelon, coconut water) to Salon Vert’s menu, featuring dishes like peekytoe crab remoulade and sweet potato-plantain soup. Right now, he’s racing around preparing to open Maison Passarelle, a full-service restaurant with its own Broadway entrance, set to launch on April 17.

“The menu isn’t huge, but it’s concise,” Frank says of Salon Vert. “We have hamachi with smoked coconut milk dressing, smoked beets…”

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Let me know if you’d like any further refinements!Here’s the rewritten text in clear, natural English:

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Throughout our menu, we celebrate how barbecue has its roots in the Caribbean.

Yet like all great spots, there’s theater here too. “Our hospitality offerings are like a stage,” says Frank. “People come here and see the food, drinks, service, and spaces as art—an extension of art. But it’s physical art that touches the soul and makes you want to stay for hours.” Unfortunately, I don’t even have six minutes to linger—I’m off to my next shift.

1 p.m.: The Second Floor

One of my favorite movie scenes is from Working Girl (1988), where Tess McGill’s scheming boss orders her to “make one more round” with a steaming dim sum cart at a cocktail party. Now, here I am: “Just one more round with the Champagne cart, Mark!”

Every day, Ren Jade Neuman, Printemps’ wine director, has her team load up the store’s two gilded carts with six bottles each at the Rococo-style Champagne bar. Today’s selection ranges from Pierre Moncuit Delos to Ruinart Rosé. The idea? You can buy a glass and sip while you shop—or just wander.

Ren walks me through the options. “Lush, opulent Krug—it should feel like a down comforter being shaken out and laid on your tongue.” Later, she adds, “Jo Landron Atmosphères is made using the traditional Champagne method—but in the Loire Valley.” (She also notes: “Jo has a killer mustache—it stretches out to here!” She gestures about three inches from each side of her mouth.)

Now, Ren and I are navigating the sales floor—she’s steering, I’m pushing (and silently praying I don’t crash into a beauty display). We spot a couple nearby who might want bubbles, so we head over.

We meet Elaine, visiting from Florida with her fiancé, Ron. Elaine wants Champagne, but Ron isn’t interested. “I’d like bourbon,” he says. Ren offers to grab him some from the Salon Vert bar.

Meanwhile, Elaine shares her first impressions of the store—like Bonnie and Annette earlier, it’s her first visit. “I have goosebumps, honestly,” she says. “I used to design menswear, so I appreciate every detail. It’s magnificent—it transports you. I saw Printemps all over Instagram and told Ron, my forever fiancé, ‘We have to go—this is an experience.’ At this point in life, I only care about experiences.”

Elaine is also eyeing a puffy ivory Maison Margiela clutch brought out by senior client advisor Kelvin Matoral. Is she tempted? “Yes,” she says. “And I love that I’m seeing things here I don’t find everywhere. Some labels are new to me, but that’s exciting. Isn’t it wonderful to discover fresh designers? It’s a new voice, a new generation.”

On the second floor, sculptural, birdcage-like displays showcase the womenswear in the Salon.

1:30 p.m.: The Salon

On the sales floor, time warps—it flies and crawls at once. The key? Patience is everything in good service, and Kelvin is the epitome of patience. “I greet everyone, introduce myself—I want people to feel seen,” he says. “But I also give them space.”

Kelvin, who joined Printemps after years at Barneys, Gucci, and Tiffany, guides customers through the fashion. “I’m thrilled to be here—it’s a breath of fresh air,” he says. “New York has needed this since Barneys closed.”

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Let me know if you’d like any further refinements!When it comes to top sellers, he quickly points to The Falls as a Printemps success story. “The designers scour the globe for vintage finds and customize pieces with embroidery or hand-stitching,” he explains. “Every item is unique—and who doesn’t love something exclusive?” But that’s not all that’s flying off the shelves. When Printemps first opened, they offered vintage Hermès pieces: two Birkins and three Kellys. “Those were my personal favorites,” Kelvin admits. When I ask if they sold, he grins: “Yes—within the first week.”

2 p.m.: The Red Room
I’ve already broken a fundamental rule within 15 minutes: Never remove display shoes from the sales floor. In hindsight, this seems obvious—if I’m clutching the only Rene Caovilla ruby-studded sandal with its leg-wrapping strap, how can anyone else admire or purchase it? “So you memorize every shoe a customer wants to try, even if they request, say, eight different styles?” I ask Penelope Amoroso (known as Poppy), the saintly sales associate tasked with training me. Like all Printemps staff, she typically assists clients throughout the store. “I remember every pair she wants,” Poppy confirms with a laugh.

The shoe department’s other golden rule? Speed. You can’t risk customers losing interest while you’re upstairs searching for, say, a size 42 Marni sandal. As I worry about my creaky knees and clumsy coordination with multiple shoe boxes, Poppy mentions she walks about seven miles daily across the sales floors—suddenly, my complaints seem trivial.

The Red Room itself is breathtaking—a preserved Art Deco masterpiece with 33-foot ceilings and walls adorned with countless German mosaic tiles in rich reds and golds. Originally designed in 1931 by artist Hildreth Meière (who also worked on Radio City Music Hall) for Irving Trust Bank, the space was kept so dimly lit back then that workers never realized its vibrant colors.

“We mix brands here just like elsewhere in the store,” Poppy explains. “It surprises people at first, but then they enjoy discovering everything.” The Red Room’s offerings—from Amina Muaddi to Balenciaga—are organized by color, style, and yes, sparkle. (Special red designs from various brands celebrate Printemps’ opening.)

When asked about current trends—particularly whether heels are outdated—Poppy observes: “It’s split. Some women declare ‘I can’t wear heels anymore!’ and leave with designer sneakers, while others refuse to give theirs up.” As for what’s hot? Maison Margiela’s Tabis in all variations (“Customers say ‘I need my Tabis!’—they’re huge right now”), Marni, emerging Italian label Paris Texas (whose Lidia Mule outperforms their cult stiletto boots), and Alessandro Michele’s Valentino designs—like the white bow-adorned pumps one customer recently added to her collection.Here’s the rewritten text in clear, natural English:

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The collection includes 250 pairs of Roger Vivier shoes. Shoes remain one of the most emotional purchases, especially for weddings. Poppy recently worked with a bride who bought the blue Manolo Blahniks—famously worn by Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City—as her “something blue.” Another bride-to-be purchased scarlet Manolos to match her custom wedding dress being made in Shanghai.

Poppy’s 2:30 p.m. appointment is with her friend Caitlin, who’s shopping for shoes to celebrate a new job. Caitlin arrives right on time with her friend Lynn. “I’ve been to Printemps in Paris, but this is my first time here,” Caitlin says. “I’ve been dying to come.” For the occasion, she asks Poppy for the Manolo Blahnik Maysale mule in smokey gray with a 50mm heel. She’s also eyeing a pair of cream pointed-toe Moa pumps by Aeyde, a brand new to me (and apparently selling fast).

Caitlin needs a size 40 in both, so we head upstairs to the stockroom—Shoe Nirvana—accessed by a security card. The space is immaculate, but it’s also a sea of nearly identical white boxes. You’d better know the exact style name or recognize the sketches on the labels. The Manolos are in stock, but for the Aeydes, only sizes 39.5 and 40.5 are available. I grab both, hoping one will fit. Lynn—now “my” client—wants to try glossy black Courrèges ankle boots in a 37, so I search for those too. On a whim, I grab the 38 as well.

Oron, who runs the stockroom with precision, helps me check each box to ensure the shoes match. I notice him sanitizing his hands before opening the first box. “Do you always do that?” I ask. “No,” he says, slightly amused. “I just came back from lunch.”

Then, with the boxes in hand, I hurry down the pink staircase to Caitlin and Lynn. The Manolos fit Caitlin perfectly—sold. The Aeydes in 39.5 also work, so she takes those too. Meanwhile, Lynn looks fantastic in the Courrèges boots with their chunky block heels and logo on the square toe.

By then, my shift is over, and Printemps can relax. I say goodbye and hug Poppy, thanking her for trusting me not to mess up. Now, I’ve caught the sales bug—did Lynn buy the Courrèges boots? I emailed Poppy to find out. “Yes,” she replied. That news gave me a high I’m still riding.

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Let me know if you’d like any further refinements!