Forget the twinkly nonsense and scented candles. Real Londoners know the true glow gods are neon signs. Big, bold, and louder than a drunk on the Northern line, neon is back, and it’s got serious glow about it. From Soho’s still-gasping red-light glow to Brick Lane’s glow-up corners, neon signs are London’s passive-aggressive wallpaper. They mock, shine seductively, and sometimes flicker mid-sentence—but that’s part of the charm. Come on: this city’s about as bright as a wet sock.

It rains sideways. Half the buildings look like they were drawn in a rush. So when a in-your-face pink sign says “Werk It” from inside a café you weren’t cool enough to know existed, it hits different. It’s hope. And no, it’s not just for Instagram. Neon in London has proper roots, mate. Walthamstow’s neon temple? Glorious. If you haven’t been—go. Bring a backup pair of eyeballs. And maybe a second pair, just in case. Neon is the shared hallucination.

Hairdressers, estate agents, even off-licenses are getting in on the action. Pop up a glowing “Live. Laugh. Lease.” and 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 decor. They’re part existential meltdown, part fashion statement, 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 take the compliment. The sign believes in you. Even if it’s hanging by one loose wire.

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