Night time. A procession of taxis. Amber lights. Car doors slam shut. At the foot of the stoop of Les Bains, they stir, and cluster. Leather jackets, double-breasted suits, ripped jeans, endless necklines, eighteen-, thirty-,
sixty-year-olds. Presiding over the stairs, Marylin selects. Who will she take from the street to create the eclectic tribe inside the wildest Parisian nightclub? Hearts beat. “Come in, yes, you. Enjoy your evening. Not you. It’s not gonna happen tonight.” You climb the steps, and then descend the arena. Light touches. Mingling of cardamom, black pepper, tobacco, musk, patchouli, amber, clove, geranium, honey. Exhilaration. The night is ours."