JUST RIADH
in the Flow of His Own Frequency
interview + written ALBAN E. SMAJLI
Just Riadh carries a sense of awareness that feels immediate yet measured, a creative rhythm that unfolds from the inside rather than reacting to what surrounds him.
His world moves through frames that blur laughter and reflection into a single gesture, where editing becomes thought and motion becomes language. Nothing about his presence feels rehearsed; it moves with the quiet logic of someone who listens before he speaks, who lets feeling lead before structure appears. His work hums at the pace of attention, absorbing fragments of daily noise and turning them into a texture of emotion that lingers longer than the scroll it lives inside.
Riadh wears a total look ALAIN PAUL for the cover
“Being alone isn’t a void, it’s just the moment when you can finally hear yourself.”
Riadh Belaïche speaks with Alban E. Smajli
for LE MILE .Digital
When Riadh talks, the energy shifts from movement into something slower, almost cinematic in the way ideas form and stretch.
Riadh describes silence as a necessary state, a soft, breathing space that lets meaning resurface after being dispersed by the constant pulse of connection. Each sentence lands as if it has already travelled through stillness, carrying traces of observation, intimacy, and restraint. There is no division between what he shows and what he holds back, only a continuity that runs through everything he makes — an instinctive trust in rhythm as a way of existing. For LE MILE, he opens that rhythm further, revealing the subtle architecture of how emotion takes shape before it becomes visible. The conversation unfolds like an unseen edit, alive with the sense of something quietly assembling itself beneath the surface. His presence stays within the moment, without urgency or distance, holding time long enough for it to mean something again.
Riadh wears a total look by ACNE STUDIOS
Alban E. Smajli
When you put your phone down, how long does it take before you feel alone?
Riadh
Depends on the day. Sometimes silence feels like a break, sometimes it feels like a slap. I’ve learned that being alone isn’t a void, it’s just the moment when you can finally hear yourself. We spend so much time connected that we forget what our own thoughts sound like. When I put my phone down, it’s almost like meeting myself again — awkward at first, then peaceful. I don’t always feel lonely; sometimes I just feel quieter. It’s not emptiness, it’s space. And that space reminds me that my worth doesn’t depend on notifications or numbers. It’s weirdly grounding, like hitting pause on a world that never stops talking.
Your videos move fast — when does speed turn into emotion?
When the pace starts saying what words can’t. Speed, for me, is how life feels when it’s too much — messy, loud, but real. I edit the way I think, so the chaos isn’t random; it’s emotional. Sometimes a fast cut says more than a sentence ever could. It’s the rhythm of scrolling, switching, reacting, but under all that motion, there’s a heartbeat. I like to think people don’t just watch the energy, they feel it. The movement becomes meaning. It’s not about keeping up, it’s about catching a feeling that flashes by in a second before it disappears again.
You’ve built a version of yourself online. What remains when the camera cuts?
Pretty much the same person, just quieter. The difference isn’t in who I am, it’s in the energy. Online, you give; offline, you breathe. When the camera cuts, I’m not performing, I’m just being. There’s something refreshing about not having to think in captions or timing jokes. That’s when I get to be slower, softer, and real in a way that doesn’t need to be posted. People assume creators are always “on,” but most of us crave silence. When the camera’s off, I’m not the highlight reel, I’m the unedited version. And that’s where I remember why I started doing this in the first place.
Riadh wears a trenchcoat by AMI, scarf by HERMÈS, and a shirt by UNIQLO
Riadh wears a top by AMI, vintage tie by CÉLINE, pants and skirt by JADED LONDON, and shoes by TABI
Your humor connects millions. What colour does quiet take in your world?
A soft grey. Not sad, not bright, just balanced. Quiet isn’t absence for me, it’s recovery. It’s the colour of breathing out after being loud for too long. People see humor as constant energy, but real humor needs stillness too. The funny stuff often comes from moments when I’m not trying to be funny, when I’m observing instead of performing. In the quiet, I remember that making people laugh isn’t about noise, it’s about connection. And to connect, you have to pause sometimes. Grey is that in-between shade where new ideas start forming before the next laugh arrives.
What does your younger self ask you now, from before all of this began?
He’d ask, “Are you still real?” And I’d tell him, “Still real, just better framed.” I think he’d be surprised, maybe proud, but also a little suspicious. There’s always a fear of losing your truth when people start paying attention. I’d tell him it’s okay to grow, to shape yourself, to play with light and angles, as long as you don’t forget your core. The kid I was didn’t care about followers; he just wanted to make people feel something. I try to stay loyal to that version, the one who created out of joy before anyone was watching.
Imagine a story you haven’t posted yet — what happens in it?
A guy turns off his phone and realises the world’s still here. It’s funny and a bit sad, maybe too real to post for now. In that story, he walks outside and everything feels louder, slower, more alive. He’s confused at first, like he forgot how to exist without a screen telling him how. Then he starts noticing things: people, sounds, small coincidences. It’s not a viral story, it’s a quiet one. No hashtags, no filters, just presence. Maybe that’s why I haven’t made it yet. I think I need to live it before I can share it.
Riadh wears a long veste by COURRÈGES, sunglasses by GUCCI, pants by THE FRANKIE SHOP, and shoes by NEW BALANCE
talent JUST RIADH
credits
all Images (c) LE MILE / Maxence Renard
Riadh wears a total look by DRÔLE DE MONSIEUR
“He’d ask, ‘Are you still real?’ And I’d tell him, ‘Still real, just better framed.”
Riadh Belaïche speaks with Alban E. Smajli
for LE MILE .Digital
seen MAXENCE RENARD
assistant photography ELLIOTT SB
art direction BENJAMIN DAUGEARD
make up CHRISTOPHE PUJOL
assistant make up CLEMENCE HELFMAN
hair CLOTHILDE LAISNE
styling FLORIAN SUDRES
assistant styling AYRTON
movement direction ISMAÏL
set design DEBORAH SADOUN
production MATIAS FAURE
assistant production PAOLA RURIACK