YOU CAN KISS ME IN MY BENTLEY.

“SO RICH” explodes like a neon tantrum in a world obsessed with wealth, validation, and filtered lives. It’s not just about being rich—it’s about the performance of richness. The figure, drenched in a violent orange-red glow, embodies a chaotic, twisted luxury—one where Chanel logos meet cracked smiles and wealth is weaponized with irony.

Text fragments clash: “I am so ugly but I am so rich,” “Kiss me in my Bentley,” “Finger in my mouth.” These aren’t statements—they’re screams. The composition mocks our hunger for fame, the absurdity of luxury signaling, and the quiet desperation behind curated personas. The wealth here isn’t financial—it’s existential debt dressed in designer.

This isn’t satire. It’s a power play. “SO RICH” doesn’t whisper; it spits in the face of subtlety, leaving you confused about what you envy and what you fear. A visual middle finger dipped in gold.