We could have pulled a Béla Tarr (see: Sátántangó), a Chantal Akerman (see: Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles), or even a Claude Lanzmann (see: Shoah) and subjected you to a marathon without a break. Instead, we took the Francis Ford Coppola approach (which one is better? The Godfather or The Godfather Part II?).
Resuming.
Previously on: An Ode to Marrakesh
Artisanal Practices
Moorish and Islamic Architecture
Islamic architecture in Morocco is one of the most enduring expressions of the country's cultural identity. Shaped by Arab, Amazigh, Andalusian, and sub-Saharan influences, it reflects more than twelve centuries of artistic, religious, and cultural exchange. More than a decorative style, it is a way of expressing faith, harmony, and a deep respect for beauty.
At the heart of this architectural tradition is the principle of Tawhid, the unity of God. This idea comes to life through balanced proportions, symmetrical layouts, and repeating geometric patterns that suggest order, harmony, and the infinite nature of creation.
Zellige
Zellij/Zellige is one of the defining features of Moroccan architecture. This intricate mosaic tradition first appeared in the 10th century, beginning with simple white and brown tiles inspired by Greco-Roman mosaics before evolving into the vibrant geometric patterns seen across Morocco today.
The word zellige comes from the Arabic al-zulayj, meaning “little polished stone.” Each design is created by hand, with hundreds (sometimes thousands) of individually cut pieces of glazed terracotta carefully assembled into a single composition. Some of the fragments are so small and precise that the finished surface resembles ceramic inlay.
Rather than depicting people or animals, zellige celebrates the beauty of geometry. Squares, stars, triangles, crosses, and other polygons are combined according to precise mathematical principles, creating patterns that can repeat endlessly. Behind every composition lies an extraordinary level of craftsmanship, patience, and geometric skill.
More than decoration, these repeating patterns reflect ideas of balance, harmony, and the infinite nature of the divine. Their endless tessellations symbolize the order and interconnectedness of the universe.
Muqarnas
Muqarnas is one of the most recognizable features of Islamic architecture. Often described as “stalactite” or “honeycomb” vaulting, it is made up of hundreds of small, overlapping niche-like forms that create a seamless transition between different parts of a building.
You’ll most often find muqarnas in domes, vaults, iwans, entrance portals, and niches. Built from tiers of projecting prismatic shapes, it softens the meeting point between flat walls and curved domes while creating an intricate play of light and shadow that makes solid stone appear almost weightless.
Beyond its structural and decorative role, muqarnas also carries profound symbolic meaning. By subdividing the continuous surface of a dome into countless geometric forms, it evokes a cosmos composed of innumerable parts, sustained and unified by God.
Carved Stucco (Gibs)
Carved stucco, known locally as gebs (or gibs), is a traditional Moroccan decorative art used to ornament upper walls, arches, cornices, and ceilings. It blends structural relief with lace-like detailing, and is masterminded by artisans called maâlems (or maâlmins).
After preparing the base layer, artisans sketch geometric structures or calligraphic grids directly onto the surface. Using a set of small chisels, knives, and fine metal tools, they begin carving with remarkable patience, working millimeter by millimeter.
Carved Cedarwood
Carved cedarwood is one of the defining features of traditional Moroccan architecture. Sourced from the Atlas Mountains, it is valued for its rich fragrance, durability, and beautifully textured grain.
Moroccan Rugs
Moroccan rugs have been woven by Amazigh communities for centuries, with weaving traditions passed down from one generation of women to the next. More than household objects, these rugs are expressions of identity, memory, and everyday life.
Each region developed its own distinctive weaving style in response to its environment. Thick, high-pile rugs from the Atlas Mountains provided warmth during harsh winters, while lighter flat-weave rugs from the south were better suited to the heat of the Sahara. Among Morocco’s historic weaving centres, Fes became particularly renowned for its craftsmanship.
In the mid-20th century, Moroccan rugs gained international recognition when modernist architects and designers, including Le Corbusier, paired their richly textured, handmade surfaces with minimalist interiors. Their appeal lay in their authenticity, bold geometry, and the individuality of each piece.
For the Amazigh weavers, however, a rug is much more than decoration. Its motifs tell stories, preserve traditions, and express hopes for protection, fertility, strength, and prosperity. Every woven symbol carries meaning, turning each rug into a personal and cultural narrative.
Yves Saint Laurent and the City that Changed Everything
There are places you visit, and then there are places that quietly rearrange your DNA. For Yves Saint Laurent, that place was Marrakech.
He first arrived in February 1966 with his lifelong partner Pierre Bergé, expecting little more than a holiday. Instead, he found an obsession. The story goes that it rained for the first few days. Then one morning the clouds disappeared, the Atlas Mountains emerged, jasmine drifted through the hotel windows, and Marrakech revealed itself. Pierre Bergé would later say that morning “decided our destiny.” And honestly? It sounds dramatic. But then again, so was Yves.
Until then, much of his work had revolved around black. Marrakech introduced him to a completely different language: electric blues, saffron yellows, emerald greens, fuchsia pinks, terracotta reds. Color was everywhere in the city and Yves Saint Laurent later admitted that it was there where he learned the true power of color.
Not long after that first trip, he and Bergé bought a modest house inside the medina called Dar el-Hanch, the Snake House. It wasn’t particularly grand. Most of the furniture came from local souks. But it became a refuge where he escaped the relentless pace of Paris haute couture and designed many of his collections. Eventually they would own several homes in Marrakech, returning twice a year as faithfully as one returns to a favorite novel.
The city also happened to become one of the chicest playgrounds of the late 1960s and ‘70s. The parties migrated from glamorous hotels to spectacular private homes, where Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé mingled with Talitha Getty, Loulou de la Falaise, Andy Warhol, Mick Jagger and an effortlessly fabulous international crowd. Marrakech was transforming from a source of inspiration into one of the most fashionable destinations in the world.
And then, came one of fashion’s greatest rescue missions: Jardin Majorelle!
Long before it became synonymous with Yves Saint Laurent, Jardin Majorelle was someone else’s love affair.
It was created by the French painter Jacques Majorelle, who first arrived in Morocco in 1917. Completely enchanted by the country’s light and colours, he decided to make Marrakech his home. Over the following decades, he designed what can only be described as a living work of art: an exotic botanical garden filled with towering cacti, bamboo forests, palms, lily ponds and plants collected from all over the world.
At the heart of the garden stands a striking Cubist villa, designed by French architect Paul Sinoir in the 1930s. But what truly steals the show is its electric cobalt blue façade, a shade so distinctive that it became known simply as Majorelle Blue. The colour was inspired by the deep blues found throughout Morocco -from Berber clothing to decorative tiles and the endless Moroccan sky- and somehow manages to look impossibly vibrant against the lush greenery.
After Jacques Majorelle’s death in 1962, the garden slowly fell into neglect. Developers were circling, eager to replace this botanical paradise with a hotel complex. Thankfully, a French couple had other plans.
In 1980, Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé purchased the property and undertook an ambitious restoration. They expanded the collection to more than 300 plant species, painstakingly revived the villa and reopened the garden to the public, ensuring that one of Marrakech’s most extraordinary spaces would survive for future generations.
Today, it’s one of the city’s most visited landmarks. People come for the famous blue walls, of course (Instagram certainly had a role in that), but the real magic is how peaceful it feels. Step through its gates and the noise of Marrakech simply dissolves into birdsong, fountains and rustling bamboo. It’s less like visiting a garden and more like wandering through a perfectly composed painting—which, in a way, is exactly what Jacques Majorelle intended.
Morocco on Film
If you haven’t got a booked ticket to Morocco, you can feel like you are there through cinema, of course.
Casablanca (1942)
A film that needs no introduction. It gave us five (5!) of the most iconic lines in cinema history and that's before we even get to the music, the setting, Sam, Rick, or Ilsa.
And, of course, it introduced us to the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Morocco (1930)
Continuing our films-named-after-locations theme, we have Morocco. The film is famous for one of cinema's earliest and most iconic images of a woman in a tuxedo.
Marlene Dietrich not only boldly wore trousers as evening wear, but also shared one of Hollywood's earliest same-sex kisses on screen. A pioneer both on screen and off, she helped normalize women's tailoring long before it became mainstream.
The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956)
When you are watching a Hitchcock film you know the plot will be great, the directing excellent and the performances top-notch.
That means you can choose which Hitchcock to watch for much more trivial reasons, like where it’s filmed or whether you feel like listening to Doris Day sing "Que Sera, Sera."
