Our first (chaotic) shooting in the Sahara

Act I — The Pilgrimage of the Overdressed

We left Paris at 4 a.m., because dawn flights look more intentional.

We drifted a bit among the usual business-class sociopaths and sunburnt Marbella pilgrims clutching their papaya juice dreams.

At the gate, they asked why we were going to the Sahara. We said art was the reason. 

Act II — Yves, our Camel

Our guide Mustafa introduced us to Yves, our camel. My mother always said to buy what I fall in love with — so we did. Surprisingly affordable. 

In Morocco there’s a city where they pimp camels (their Pimp my ride's version) — little crests, styled fur, pure decadence. Naturally, Yves got the full treatment.

Named after Saint Laurent, I liked the reference too Oran. I felt my Yves was a fragile genius, hopefully less amphetamines.

Yves radiated supermodel energy and refused to walk unless the light was golden hour.

Act III — Crazy things you could do in the desert

Number 1, ski of course: Illogical, yes — but desert physics obey their own couture laws. Our model, draped in chiffon and delusion, glided down the dune with a bag and the composure of a goddess. That’s our graceful vision donnas.

Number 2, Sheikh tea time: At sunset, a white Rolls materialized. Out stepped Sheikh Khalid bin Something. He invited us for tea (spoiler: it wasn't). By midnight, he’d offered to open a Dune Paris boutique in Dubai. Life principle: always say yes to a Sheikh.

Number 3, Oasis (not the Gallaghers): On day three, we found an oasis — or thought we did. Palms, turquoise water, enlightenment. We ran like Gucci models chasing purpose. It wasn’t real. Did we shoot anyway? Of course. “It’s conceptual. Hydration is bourgeois.”

Conclusion

It's hard to resell a camel, but in Guelmim not impossible though. The next shoot will probably be in Antarctica. With penguins, for contrast. We're opening soon in Dubai.