SS25

PARIS IS THE PLACE

PLACE OF LB | SPRING SUMMER 2025

A short film treatment with narration

TITLE CARD:

PARIS IS THE PLACE, SS25

EXT. LE MARAIS – 9:14 A.M.

A street in the Third Arrondissement. The cobblestones are uneven. The light is almost too perfect.

A table extends down the street for 46 metres. It is covered with bread, butter, and wine. Every fifth loaf is slightly crooked.

RILEY sits at the far end. She adjusts the hem of a yellow Lillian Khallouf dress.

VITA is her mirror, perched at the opposite end, nursing a bouquet of Nikko Blue hydrangeas.

BORIS (a canine) lies exactly in the centre, eyes half-closed.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

This is Paris. Not the Eiffel Tower. Not the cliché. This is bread (an unreasonable amount of bread). Butter (likely salted). And a dog who understands balance better than most humans.

INT. LOUVRE – 11:03 A.M.

A couture gown floats inside a glass case. A tourist sneezes - we choose to ignore this. A guard yawns. Nobody looks up.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

Old and new. A constant collision. Couture beside pigeons. Picasso beside paper mâché. Pâté beside potato chips. Logic would object - Paris does not.

MONTAGE: PARIS IN EXACTING DETAIL

– A paper sculpture, dissolving in the rain.

– A market stall at Marché des Enfants Rouges. A man arranges figs by colour: darkest to lightest.

– Butter in varying states of softness.

– Riley framed between two bicycles. One is blue. One is slightly more blue.

– Vita holding a baguette like a sceptre.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

Parisians have a way of making beauty feel inevitable. Even their markets resemble galleries. Even their frites deserve framing.

INT. PAUL BERT SERPETTE – 2:17 P.M.

A mirror leans against a wall. Someone bends down to examine it. The reflection splits in half.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

In the flea market, everything has lived twice already. A vase that belonged to a stranger becomes a vase that belongs to you. Temporarily. Nothing here stays (except the dealers).

INT. SIDE STREET – 3:46 P.M.

A tower appears. It is four tiers high.

BASE: a square loaf of shokupan.

SECOND TIER: rillettes of pork belly, with carrots spiralling outward.

THIRD TIER: duck liver pâté, studded with grapes.

FOURTH TIER: quince suspended in jelly.

CROWN: cheese carved into shapes that geometry itself might disown.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

This is not lunch. This is not dinner. This is food as monument. Regal. Absurd. Possibly unstable. Like Paris itself.

EXT. LE MARAIS – 6:12 P.M.

The same street. The same table. Now empty. The bread has been eaten. The butter has melted. The wine glasses are still half full.

Riley and Vita walk away in opposite directions. Boris trots between them, perfectly centred.

NARRATOR (V.O.)

Paris doesn’t conclude. It collides and offers fragments: a yellow dress, a market stall, a dog on a cobblestone street. Together they say what words cannot: Paris is the place.

TITLE CARD:

THE END. (OR POSSIBLY, THE BEGINNING.)

CREDITS

CONCEPT/CREATIVE/PRODUCER: Place of Lb

https://www.instagram.com/placeoflb/

PHOTO: Ladichosa

https://www.instagram.com/ladichosa/

TALENT: Riley & Vita

https://www.instagram.com/rileyj/

https://www.instagram.com/vitatomoana/

HERO GOWN (yellow): Lillian Khallouf

https://www.instagram.com/lilliankhallouf/