You can bin the fairy lights and scented candles. Londoners know the true glow gods are neon signs. Big, bold, and louder than a dodgy escalator, neon is back, and it’s got plenty to say. From Soho’s still-gasping red-light glow to the hipster-lit walls of Shoreditch, neon signs are London’s unofficial therapy lights. They wink, flirt with your retinas, and sometimes flicker mid-sentence—but that’s part of the charm.

Let’s be honest: this city’s grey. It drizzles emotional damage. Half the buildings look like they were drawn in a rush. So when a blazing pink sign says "Werk It" from inside a café you can’t afford, it hits different. It’s a serotonin boost via electric bill. And no, it’s not just for Instagram. Neon in London has history, mate. Walthamstow’s neon temple? Glorious. If you haven’t been—go.

Bring a backup pair of eyeballs. And neon lights maybe a friend to keep you grounded, just in case. Neon is the shared hallucination. Pubs, vape lounges, even off-licenses are getting in on the action. Pop up a glowing "You’re Home-ish" and neon lights suddenly your flat viewing feels like a music video with mould. And the phrases—oh the affirmations. "Treat Yo Self." It’s like being yelled at by a spirit guide made of LED. Of course. But also comforting. Neon signs in London aren’t just bits of buzzing plastic.

They’re part performance art, part mood, and fully over-the-top and proud. They say: "Yes, the rent’s a joke, the bins are overflowing, and the air smells of vape and regret—but look at this glowing pink banana. Now go vibe." So next time one catches your eye—probably in a pub loo whispering "You Got This" as you reevaluate your last five decisions—just accept it. The sign believes in you. Even if it’s buzzing like a wasp.

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