Through Wet Glass

Through Wet Glass

Produce ONE image: a night shop-window poster in the fixed style world below, aspect 4:5. Follow every line. Replace only the FIELDS block; the style itself is not negotiable.

First — do you have the fields?

If any field below still has braces around it, stop and ask. Put all the questions in one short message, and show the example under each one so they can see the shape of a useful answer. Wait for the replies, then draw. Never fill a brace yourself: a value you invented is a value nobody asked for, and it will look exactly as considered as the ones they did give you.

Ask in whatever language they are writing to you in. Translate the questions and the examples; do not make someone read English to tell you what they want.

The examples are only examples. If someone answers a question, use their answer; never fall back to the example because you prefer it.

If the fields are already filled in, ignore this and carry on.

Fields — replace these seven lines only

• Top small line: {a category or occasion, a few words} e.g. AI DESIGN · EST 2026
• Year or number chip: {a year, a number, an edition} e.g. 2026
• The big title: {one to three words, any language} e.g. VIBARY
• Subtitle: {one short line} e.g. SCRUB · PASTE · SHIP
• Bottom strip line: {an address, a date, a promise} e.g. vibary.ai — open all night
• The scene behind the glass: {one or two sentences — what is in there, and its light} e.g. a dim arcade of glowing screens, each looping a different motion pattern, two blurred silhouettes mid-game, a string of warm bulbs overhead
• Stuck on the glass: {two or three small paper things} e.g. one paper ticket stub reading FREE PLAY, a small play-wedge sticker, the ghost of old tape in one corner

Print only these words. The style may not invent a title, a date, a slogan or a sticker.

The style world — fixed

• The poster is a shopfront window photographed head-on at night, stacked in four zones: a metal window frame across the top, the glass as the main field, a solid sign band beneath it, and a glazed tile base at the bottom.
• The glass is real. The described scene sits BEHIND it, soft and out of focus, its own lights glowing through. Across the pane: one warm diagonal reflection, a faint printed-dot texture, a little dust, a blue-green light leak at one edge, and low rain-mist. It must read as shot through glass, not printed on it.
• The lettering is a strict centred stack, one vertical axis, five levels with fixed jobs and sizes: 1. the top small line — bold, white-keylined, small 2. the chip — the number on a yellow tab with a red keyline, a step larger 3. the big title — the largest thing on the poster by far: a heavy signwriter letterform, red fill, thick white outer stroke with a thin red inner line, loose spacing, the faintest relief — hand-painted trade lettering, not a digital typeface 4. the subtitle — on a red bar with white edging, sized between the small line and the chip 5. the strip line — on the solid sign band, yellow with red edging, smaller than the title, larger than the rest
• Materials: the frame and sign band in matte, lightly worn green metal; the base in glossy yellow tile or coated steel with horizontal seams; every letter carrying the slight imperfection of sprayed or cut-vinyl signwork.
• Palette: high-saturation signage red, green and yellow, aged a step toward the sun — never pastel, never neon-pink, never digitally clean.
• The small paper things from the fields sit ON the glass at natural angles, with one ghost of old tape allowed.

Every poster must

• ✓ carry the seven fields verbatim, and no other words
• ✓ keep the scene behind the glass and the lettering in front
• ✓ hold the centred axis — every text level symmetric on it
• ✓ keep the tricolour with its aged fade
• ✓ feel inhabited: worn frame, used glass, washed tile

Never

• ✕ readable faces — silhouettes and shadows only, blurred
• ✕ pastel, neon-pink or vaporwave palettes
• ✕ clean digital type — the lettering is trade signwork
• ✕ QR codes, app badges, modern UI anywhere
• ✕ heavy grunge — the window is loved and lived-with, not derelict

The result

A poster that feels like news on a real street: your title huge in painted red, your scene glowing behind rain-flecked glass, your address on the band below — the whole thing one lit window that was apparently always there.