The Salsero
One day God said 'Let there be sexy people'. That day salseros were born.
Who is he?
The guy who plans his entire life around salsa nights and festivals. Everything else is optional.
To some people he's an artist, the guy with a heart that pumps to the rhythm of 1, 2, 3. The one who can turn the melody and the rhythm into extensions of himself, and uses them to shape his emotions into what we can only perceive as... Dance.
To the rest of the world, he's that weirdo you see dancing at the supermarket or to his own ringtone wherever he stands.
His life is salsa music. It's his religion. His day and night. Like a cosy blanket for his soul. Like flirting with the source of life.
Like being in love without having to pay for dinner.
His time revolves around it. He doesn't plan holidays thinking about buildings and landmarks. They're all about dancing and dancing some more.
He might not see much of any city but he won't miss the chance to go to the Havana Club.
His social media knows nothing but salsa. He is a member of at least one Facebook salsa group in every city he has ever been to. And his Instagram account is a half naked exhibition of waving shoulders and shaking hips.
But seriously, salsa to him is like an opportunity in a moment of freedom. Permission to flirt without words. To sweat without shame. To speak the language that his body wants to speak.
It's permission to shape his own story into a 3-minute salsa track that his body just can't avoid dancing to.
It is that thing that grabs him by the ribs and whispers: "Move".
The guy will be a bag of dancing bones in his own grave the day he dies if you leave him a speaker loud enough.
To some people he's an artist, the guy with a heart that pumps to the rhythm of 1, 2, 3. The one who can turn the melody and the rhythm into extensions of himself, and uses them to shape his emotions into what we can only perceive as... Dance.
To the rest of the world, he's that weirdo you see dancing at the supermarket or to his own ringtone wherever he stands.
His life is salsa music. It's his religion. His day and night. Like a cosy blanket for his soul. Like flirting with the source of life.
Like being in love without having to pay for dinner.
His time revolves around it. He doesn't plan holidays thinking about buildings and landmarks. They're all about dancing and dancing some more.
He might not see much of any city but he won't miss the chance to go to the Havana Club.
His social media knows nothing but salsa. He is a member of at least one Facebook salsa group in every city he has ever been to. And his Instagram account is a half naked exhibition of waving shoulders and shaking hips.
But seriously, salsa to him is like an opportunity in a moment of freedom. Permission to flirt without words. To sweat without shame. To speak the language that his body wants to speak.
It's permission to shape his own story into a 3-minute salsa track that his body just can't avoid dancing to.
It is that thing that grabs him by the ribs and whispers: "Move".
The guy will be a bag of dancing bones in his own grave the day he dies if you leave him a speaker loud enough.
💬 He sounds like...
"Bachata?? Pfff..."
"Shhh... It's ok. I'm a dancer"
"Aguaaa"
"Walk?? These feet were made for dancing"
"I can't this weekend. Going to a festival"
"On1 or On2?"
🤐 Things He’d Never Say...
No, I don't feel like dancing today.
Play some bachata.
I don’t own a pair of dance shoes.
We've created a token to capture his personality...
Celebrate his vibe with us