A moment in Marrakech
The trip to Marrakech felt like stepping into a sun-soaked dream. We were there to shoot Monki’s Spring collection and the city itself became our backdrop, its colors, textures, and everyday rhythms quietly slipping into every frame.
Visiting the Yves Saint Laurent Museum was a must, but I didn't expect it to strike me the way it did. Inside, the air felt charged as if the walls held the echo of a long, glamorous past. Yves’s deep emotional connection to Marrakech was almost tangible.
Between shoots, I wandered through the neighborhood streets. In the small, unplanned corners of the city, I found a kind of beauty that did not ask to be noticed. Abandoned carts, a scatter of well-worn motorbikes from the seventies, and little pockets where life had left its traces that all offered subtle signals of ordinary Moroccan life, like humble clues.
Marrakech was not just the setting for our project. It became part of the story, leaving a long-lasting impression.
A moment in Marrakech
The trip to Marrakech felt like stepping into a sun-soaked dream. We were there to shoot Monki’s Spring collection and the city itself became our backdrop, its colors, textures, and everyday rhythms quietly slipping into every frame.
Visiting the Yves Saint Laurent Museum was a must, but I didn't expect it to strike me the way it did. Inside, the air felt charged as if the walls held the echo of a long, glamorous past. Yves’s deep emotional connection to Marrakech was almost tangible.
Between shoots, I wandered through the neighborhood streets. In the small, unplanned corners of the city, I found a kind of beauty that did not ask to be noticed. Abandoned carts, a scatter of well-worn motorbikes from the seventies, and little pockets where life had left its traces that all offered subtle signals of ordinary Moroccan life, like humble clues.
Marrakech was not just the setting for our project. It became part of the story, leaving a long-lasting impression.
