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Vogue

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Jaylane TMIMI

Marrakech Expres

Undaunted, Followed the YSL trail in Morocco, hotfooting it to Ai Fil d’Or to order an embroidered amethyst velvet jacket of the sort Saint Laurent sent down his seventies runways; to Mustapha Blaoui’s crowded emporium, where I discovered a cache of 1920s transfer-printed china; and after three weeks on the road for the fashion collections in London, Milan, ans Paris, I took a dawn flight from gray and glacial Orly to arrive at the heavenly Riad Madani in the heart of the Marrakech medina in time for a sun-kissed break-fast. Goodness what a pick-me-up.

My dear friend Gordon Waston, purveyor of twentieth-century furniture and exquisite objects to the likes of Madonna, Mick Jagger, Valentino, and Donna Karan, among others, was celebrating a Very Big Birthday with a bevy of close friends, thus justifying my moonlight flit ( Was back the City of Light the following evening).

On the eve of my departure Ihad taken myself to the movies to catch Jalil Lespert’s Yves Saint Laurent, a biopic about the tortured design genius that charts his tempestuous life, friendships, and relationships with Pierre Bergé ( it opens in select cinemas in the States next month). In the title role, 25- year-old Pierre Niney of the Comédie-Française gifts a performance so keenly obeserved the Bergé himself found it unsettling to watch.

Sadly, thought, the movie’s distinction ends there. It is entirely lacking in style all the more perplexing as Bergé gave the project his blessing, allowing the designer’s original créations and drawings to be used in the movie Saint Laurent-Bergé headquarters and homesteads, including two of their houses in Marrakech. ( Second biopic, Saint Laurent, by director Bertrand Bonello, is in the works, and the one can only hope that the rich materials is better served by it.)

to the diminutive Topolina boutique for tasseled loafers made from African signed by owner Isabelle Lallmang’s eighteen-year-old son, Pierre-Henery Ramaget. A new Saint Laurent in the making?
The Saturday-night festivities were far too much fun, and on the morrow not quit at my freshest, I leaped into a horse-drawn carriage.