VIBE!

Somewhere between a golden steak and cheap melina, the evening spilled out - sticky, with glitter on the skin and a too-loud "Mom, ten vibe." A world where resting under a palm tree isn't relaxation, but an allergy to poverty. Where jokes about Marilyn Monroe are told in the rhythm of cash register rings, and glamor and irony are so intertwined that it's no longer clear whether they are laughing at themselves or posing out of habit. Everything sparkles, everything moves, and even the fatigue here has a Prada logo. In this reality, there's no room for contemplation - only hype, music, and the confidence that "you know we've got this." That same unashamed feeling of success exhaled, when even synthetic glitter looks like the sun.