FloriaHeights

A sixty-five page sales book for a residential tower, built to read like a life rather than a listing.

CLIENT

Seven Ventures

YEAR

2025

DISCIPLINES

Editorial

ROLE

concept, colour, art direction, imagery, editorial design, print and digital editions

01 / The challenge

Every tower in the market is sold by the square foot.This one had to be sold as a life.

Seven Ventures is building Floria Heights, a residential tower in Faisal Hills, beside the Arch on the road north out of Islamabad. They had the architecture, the renders, the floor plans and a mark. What they wanted was the thing Dubai's developers have and this market does not: a sales book that is an object, one a buyer keeps on the table after the meeting. The brochures around it all do the same work in the same order, a render, a list of amenities, a price. This book had to hold the price back entirely and spend its first pages building a world, so that by the time a floor plan appears the reader already knows what kind of life it belongs to.

02 / What we did

01Editorial

One colour, decided first, and everything else in service of it.

Before a page was laid out, four colour routes were mocked up as whole brochures and put in front of the client, so the choice was a book and not a swatch. Wine maroon won, and the palette around it is short: champagne only where light would fall, soft ivory for the page, charcoal for text, pale sand for the plans. The concept came from the same place. A Life Above is the title, set in a script that appears exactly once a chapter, and every chapter opens on a single glass flower lying on wine, a different bloom each time. A length of wine silk moves through the book and enters a spread only where there is sky for it. Three type roles do the rest: Salvatores speaks, Monik announces, Maison Neue explains. The client's renders were graded into one light so sixty-five pages read as one afternoon, and the amenities that did not exist yet were generated, held to the palette, and given their pages. Six chapters, then the residences, then the developer's record, and no price anywhere in the book.

The cover page flat on a dark plate: the words A Life Above in thin script on a wine silk texture, the Floria Heights mark below — The cover. Wine silk, one line of script, the mark at the foot. The name of the book is the positioning, so the cover needs nothing else.

03 / Visuals

Four palette study pages on a dark plate, each a mocked brochure beside five colour bars: wine maroon, deep cool grey, slate olive and deep navy — Four routes before a page was designed: wine, cool grey, slate olive, deep navy, each mocked as a whole brochure so the client chose a book and not a swatch.

A white mood board of small images: wine silk in flight, red petals on ivory, glass vases, water, a lounge with a fireplace and a woman in a wine dress — The first board. Silk in motion, red on ivory, glass, water: the concept before the palette had a name.

An ivory card on a dark plate with five colour bars and their names and hex values: Wine Maroon, Champagne Gold, Soft Ivory, Charcoal, Pale Sand — The route the client leaned to, tuned into five values. Wine carries the book. Champagne is allowed only where light would fall.

A type specimen: A Life Above in script on a wine panel, and on an ivory panel samples of Salvatores, Monik, Maison Neue and Aurantiaca with their roles — Three roles, four faces. Salvatores speaks, Monik announces, Maison Neue explains, and Aurantiaca is the second hand for the small script lines. Nothing else is permitted in the book.

Five chapter opener pages in a row on a dark plate, each a glass flower on wine silk with a chapter title in script — Six chapters, and every one opens on a glass flower lying on wine, a different bloom each time. The reader learns the rhythm by chapter two.

Three columns on a dark plate, each a generated interior above the book page it was placed on: a marble hammam, a daycare with arches, a security room with a wall of screens — Amenities that did not exist yet. The hammam, the daycare and the security room were generated in July, held to the palette, and placed on their pages before a brick was laid. The book says what they will be, not what they are.

The finished hero render: the twin towers with the arch between them under a soft afternoon sky, hills behind, a street lamp and a car in front — The hero render, as finished for the book. The model is the client's; the sky, the light, the road in front and the grade are the studio's, so that every render across sixty-five pages sits in one afternoon.

Six generated studies of the tower on a dark plate: a balcony corner, the gap between the towers, a worm's eye view, stacked balconies, an upward angle, the tower against sky — Thirty-six new angles of the tower, generated from the render. Not approved, and not used: the client's own renders carried the building. Kept here because the route was explored, not because it worked.

The book open on a walnut table at the Why Floria spread: wine silk beside an ivory boucle chair on the left page, a woman in a wine dress on a boardwalk on the right — The book, open. Pages 12 and 13: the silk, the ivory chair and the boardwalk, which is the whole concept on one spread before a floor plan is shown.

The book open on ivory linen, shot from above: the tower render on the left page, the table of contents on the right — Open at page four. The building arrives after the cover, the mark and one line of script, because the world comes before the object.

The book open on a marble console: the Location chapter opener on the left page, the ringed map on the right — Location. The map was drawn for the book as three rings of minutes rather than a road atlas: a place sold as time, not distance.

The book open on dark stone by a window: The Margalla Soul spread on the left page, the balcony view on the right — The Margalla Soul. The hills are the argument for living here, so they are given a spread of their own before the tower is shown up close.

A tablet flat on marble, shot from above, its screen showing the towers page of the digital edition — The digital edition. The same page, one to a screen, cut from the print file so the two editions never drift apart.

A page flat on a dark plate: a portrait render of the lobby on the left, the headline Where Arrival Feels Like Home and a short paragraph on the right — Arrival. One portrait render, one headline, and most of the page left empty. The book breathes where the market's brochures shout.

The book open on a walnut lectern: the Sky Garden spread on the left page, the tower with wine silk across it on the right — The sky garden and the silk. The one recurring object in the book is a length of wine silk, and it enters a spread only where there is sky for it to move in.

The book open on a walnut table: the facade spread on the left page, the lobby lounge render on the right, a glass tulip beside it — Outside and inside. The elevation on the left, the lounge on the right: wherever the pages allow it, a spread shows the building and the life in it at once.

The book open on an ivory boucle ottoman: the Lifestyle and Amenities opener with a glass rose on the left page, the amenities grid and the mark on a wall on the right — Lifestyle opens on a glass rose and the amenities follow as a quiet grid. The icons are the client's; the space around them is the design.

The book open on a marble console: the café render on the left page, the lobby with its ring chandelier on the right — The café and the lobby. Two renders graded to one light, so the walk from the street to the lift reads as a single evening.

The book open on an oak desk, shot from above: the master layout of the three towers on the left page, the A-01 floor plan on the right, a scale rule beside it — Residences. The master layout of the three towers, then fourteen plan pages on one grid: type, areas, the plan, and a rendered corner of the room it describes.

A tablet on a stand on a walnut side table in a dim room, its screen showing the tower at night from above — The last chapter, on a screen. The digital edition ends where the print one does, with the tower at night from above.

The payment plan folder closed on a marble counter: the tower render above a wine band with the Floria Heights mark and the words Payment Plan — The payment plan, a second piece. A four-page A4 folder carries the numbers, so the book never has to.

The payment plan folder open on marble, shot from above: the tower and the words 5-Year Payment Plan on the left page, the schedule by unit type on the right — Inside: the five-year plan and the schedule by unit type, set in the book's faces on the book's marble so the two pieces read as one system.

Nine identical wine covers in a row on a dark plate, labelled V1 to V9 with dates from 31 July to 5 September and page counts from 56 to 65 — Nine versions between 31 July and 5 September. The cover never moved. The count went from fifty-six pages to sixty-five as renders, plans and the developer's track record arrived.

All sixty-five pages of the book laid out eleven by six on a dark plate — All sixty-five pages. Six chapters, one wine, and a glass flower at every threshold.

04 / Outcome

Sixty-five pages, nine versions in five weeks,and a book the towers now have to live up to.

The book went to print in September 2025, with a digital edition cut to the same pages for sending, and a four-page payment plan folder followed as a second piece so the book itself never has to carry a number. What holds it together is a small set of decisions kept for sixty-five pages: one colour, three type roles, a flower at every threshold, and a rule that the world comes before the object. The market's brochures start with the building. This one arrives at it on page four.

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