You can bin the soft-glow candles and mood-matching tealights. Anyone south of Zone 3 know the true vibe masters are buzzing tubes of light. Big, deliberately extra, and louder than a drunk on the Northern line, neon is buzzing again, 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 passive-aggressive wallpaper. They sass, shine seductively, and sometimes spell things wrong—but that’s peak London energy.

Truth is: this city’s about as bright as a wet sock. It spits aggressively. Half the buildings look like they were drawn in a rush. So when a blazing pink sign says "Keep Serving Looks" from inside a café you can’t afford, it hits different. It’s hope. And no, it’s not just for your Story highlight called "Vibes". Neon in London has proper roots, mate. God’s Own Junkyard in Walthamstow? Glorious. If you haven’t been—go. Bring a backup pair of eyeballs.

And maybe a friend to keep you grounded, just in case. Neon is the shared hallucination. Chicken shops, vape lounges, even florists are getting in on the action. Pop up a glowing "Vibes Not Mortgages" and suddenly your flat viewing feels like a music video with mould. And the phrases—oh the affirmations. "Good Vibes Only." It’s like being mocked lovingly by a sassy toaster. Of course. But also comforting. Neon signs in London aren’t just decoration.

They’re part performance art, part therapy, and fully proof we’ve all lost the plot a bit. 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 "Smash It" as you reevaluate your last five decisions—just accept it. The sign believes in you.

Even if it’s flickering like it’s had enough.

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