On arrival, they’ve slipped into hot-pink satin dressing gowns and fluffy pink, bowed headbands to sweep back their hair ready for makeup. Teetering in a row at the bar, they look like teenie 1950s starlets relaxing after a shoot.
“She loves it,” says the 4-year-old’s mum when I ask if her little girl enjoys a spot of pampering as much as it seems. “From age 2, 2-and-a-half. I think because I do my hair and makeup and get my nails done, she’s always wanted to copy me. She likes the grown-up feeling,” she adds, swiftly shaking her head when her daughter declares she’s keeping the nails for school.
Launched by entrepreneur Simone Tai, 37, seven months ago, the exceedingly pink Mini Moony salon, which hosts “relaxing spa days for kids” aged 4 and up, starting at £30 ($67.01) per person, promises “memorable and joyful” experiences” using “safe, high quality, and child-friendly products”. As well as makeup and nails, you can opt for facials and brightly coloured “jelly” foot spas.
It’s certainly joyful. There’s a sequinned pink wall, balloons, and a mirrored dance floor. But it sits firmly within a trend that has become increasingly apparent in the US and European countries like France over recent months, and is becoming so in Britain, too. The rise of the so-called #Sephorakids, named after the high-end beauty store Sephora, and consisting of a Generation Alpha cohort (those born from 2010) who have an obsession with all things beauty.
In France, child beauty salons, much like Moony’s, are opening at pace and finding themselves booked for months.
In the States, the Sephora hashtag caught on after social media reported growing numbers of kids flocking to the stores, although Sephora itself makes it clear it does not put on makeover events. (The company said it “does not offer a formal party programme for customers of any age” in the UK, and stressed that “children under 16 cannot sign up for or receive a beauty service without the permission and attendance of a parent”.)
Nevertheless, children’s appetite for beauty products seems insatiable. Data from market research company NielsenIQ (NIQ) found US consumers under the age of 14 drove 49% of drug store skincare sales in 2023.
TikTok has a lot to do with it, say parents. Dewy-skinned children – many not yet teenagers – beam into their cameras, demonstrating makeup and carefully curated beauty routines. The hashtag #GRWM – Get Ready With Me – has billions of views.
Kim Kardashian’s 11-year-old daughter North West, whose joint account with her mother has 19.3 million followers, is an icon of these so-called “skinfluencers”. The Garza Crew, with five million followers, is another, and features a mum and her pre-tween twins from Oklahoma posting avidly. “I caved and decided to let the girls have their nails done for Spring Break,” Mum says, posting a video of the girls’ long, press-on nails.
Data from Statista reveals the baby and child skincare market is expected to experience a yearly rise of around 7.71% from now until 2028, when it will reach £299m ($667.86m) in market volume worldwide.
Popular products with children include the brand Drunk Elephant. Slaai Makeup-Melting Butter Cleanser retails at £37 ($82.64). “Not every product in our line should be used by younger fans, 12 and under,” the website small print warns. Even Christian Dior has launched a Baby Dior skincare collection. Alcohol-free Bonne Étoile Scented Water retails at £230 ($513.73).
Back in Havant, the birthday girl, 5, is only concerned with one brand: Disney. Her outfit incorporates a yellow “Belle” dress and sparkly blue “Elsa” shoes. She giggles as her hair is brushed because it tickles and selects a “do” from a picture menu. Coloured bands and glitter sit next to a very large can of “ultra strong power hold” hairspray.
From the array of makeup, it’s the zany colours and glitter sticks that are chosen, but there are BB cream bases, mascaras, and blushers too, which I’m advised are for older children.
At the nail bar, I’m told the polishes are all child-friendly and peel off. The young customers exclaim when they feel the heat of the dryer, but bear with it with a surprisingly mature perseverance – albeit singing along to the Hokey Cokey.
The birthday girl’s dad says her love of beauty has “been more of a thing in the last year or so”. “She just loves princesses,” he says. “But she’ll still make horrible faces and some days just wants to wear what she’s picked off the floor.”
Wanting to wear makeup like a grown-up is perhaps nothing new. But there’s a shift at Moony’s second party of the day, for an 11-year-old, her 9-year-old sister and their 11-year-old friend.
They’re having facials and foot spas, and taking it seriously. They’re each presented with a mirror and a range of cosmetics. First, they’re instructed to cleanse their faces – I’m assured it’s water they’re using – and then move on to jade stone facial rollers, yogurt and cucumber face masks, and moisturiser, which I’m told is emollient cream, suitable for babies.
They stare intensely at their reflections as they sing along to Taylor Swift. After a quick face “mist”, they are ushered to pink armchairs for brightly coloured “jelly foot spas”. No one can tell me what’s in this, but it looks like slime.
The girls – one shows me the fake eyelashes she’s wearing, a weekend treat – sigh as they sink their pale feet in. This is self-care, they say.
The birthday girl’s mother explains she wanted to give her daughter the party she craved, but is candid about her worries. “She’s always on TikTok, and wants to use the new face serums, wear makeup at weekends,” she says, adding that she insists on buying all her daughter’s products and ensuring they’re gentle.
Worryingly, her younger daughter has expressed concerns about her appearance. “I tell her she’s beautiful and too young [to worry],” she says.
Tessa Stevens, 49, is a skincare expert of 32 years. Over the past 18 months, she has received a growing number of inquiries about treatments like facials for children, but declines if they’re under 12. Over 12, she will usually only consider a consultation if they have a skin condition, such as acne.
“I believe there is room for services in beauty clinics for our younger generation,” she says. “But this should be very limited. And it should always start with an in-depth consultation which should include the parent, guardian or carer. Teaching them how to take care of their skin and reassuring them the changes they are going through are very normal.”
Many products aren’t appropriate for younger kids, she says, especially those containing salicylic acids, vitamin A and hyaluronic acid, trendy on TikTok. “Why a 10-year-old needs to use hyaluronic acid [popular for its anti-ageing properties] is beyond me,” she says. “Their skin’s an organ and it can’t tolerate those types of ingredients or daily exposure. It’s not developed properly yet. You can cause long-term damage.”
She’s not against playful hair and makeup, but believes the environment of a salon, psychologically, isn’t appropriate for a young child. “We don’t need children to direct their thought process onto the way they’re looking,” she says. “My daughter is 9 and she doesn’t even know what Sephora is.”
She admits she has allowed her to attend a pamper party to join her friends, but they spoke about how it “wasn’t for everyday”. “There might be conversations that you need to have to make sure your children understand this is dress up,” she says.
Tai was inspired by her own daughters, aged 2 and 6, who adore beauty. “Growing up nowadays is so different,” she says. She hosts around five to six parties every weekend. Boys come too, although it’s primarily girls. She researches her products and emphasises the relaxation and bonding benefits of pampering, and the “playfulness”.
“I definitely don’t encourage my girls with makeup every day, it’s just role play. We still want kids to be kids,” she says.
As the little ones’ party ends, the girls play Musical Statues with raucous glee. They stick out their tongues for a photo. Suddenly, glitter nails play second fiddle to who can look the silliest. Hopefully, they can cling on to that.
