In the heart of the Gascony pines, where green grows dense and roads disappear under a carpet of needles, a Center Parcs village became, for one evening, the stage for a deep collective breath. It was not a wedding, nor a village fair, but a professional event that felt every bit like a celebration.
A large stretch tent, or rather two of them, seamlessly joined to form a single flowing canvas, stretched across 1,400 m².
They rested on a precisely laid floor, bathed in soft lighting and the quiet murmur of the forest.
At their side, a 130 m² sailcloth tent stood, supported by 150 m² of flooring and connected by our accordion link, like a wooden bridge drawn between two worlds.
This was the backstage, where things were cooked, prepared, set in motion, while the other space lived.
In the heart of the Gascony pines, where green grows dense and roads disappear under a carpet of needles, a Center Parcs village became, for one evening, the stage for a deep collective breath. It was not a wedding, nor a village fair, but a professional event that felt every bit like a celebration.
A large stretch tent, or rather two of them, seamlessly joined to form a single flowing canvas, stretched across 1,400 m².
They rested on a precisely laid floor, bathed in soft lighting and the quiet murmur of the forest.
At their side, a 130 m² sailcloth tent stood, supported by 150 m² of flooring and connected by our accordion link, like a wooden bridge drawn between two worlds.
This was the backstage, where things were cooked, prepared, set in motion, while the other space lived.