A Toast to the Wild Ones

 

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There’s a moment in every man’s life when the rules fall away — not in defiance, but in liberation. When the necklines get lower, the shirts get louder, and the champagne doesn’t wait until midnight. For me, that moment came with the sun slipping behind the Kyiv skyline, a bottle of Moët clenched in one hand and the wildest of animal prints draped across my back.

You know, life has a funny way of asking if you're paying attention. Not in the big boardroom breakthroughs or nonprofit milestones, but in those unexpected seconds when you catch your own reflection — shirt unbuttoned halfway to your navel, gold chains swinging with every step, and an energy you can’t quite bottle (though God knows I tried with that champagne).

This was one of those moments.

I wasn’t celebrating anything specific — no official launch, no big announcement. Just life. Just the reminder that I’ve earned the right to take up space and be loud doing it. I’d flown halfway across the world to meet friends who feel more like brothers, to check on work that matters in a place that’s seen its share of hardship, and somehow still had the grace to throw its arms open in welcome.

It was a trip that had it all: spiritual check-ins, soul food, and streets soaked in stories older than the countries we were born in. But that afternoon on the terrace? That was just for me. For the boy who used to think success meant a suit and a script. For the man who now knows it means freedom — the kind you wear like silk on your skin and laughter on your lips.

Let me tell you something about popping champagne in leopard print: it hits different when you’ve bled for your purpose. When your days are filled with hard choices, tight budgets, and the kind of leadership that doesn’t always come with applause. When your nights are spent editing reports, not reels. You pop that cork not to impress, but to remind yourself that joy is not a luxury — it’s a necessity.

And if you’re lucky, someone catches it on camera.

There was something about the view from up there — all white buildings and soft green hills — that made me feel like anything was possible. Like every closed door led to that balcony. Like every rejection built the foundation for this exact moment of "hell yes."

So here’s what I’ll say to you, if you're reading this with a bit of longing in your chest:

Wear the shirt. Pop the bottle. Take the photo.

And when you do — really do — know that it doesn’t make you shallow or reckless. It makes you alive. And the world needs more of that.

To the wild ones. The ones who’ve seen too much, felt it all, and still choose joy. I see you. I raise my glass to you.

And if you're ever unsure where to go next — look for the balcony with the best view, the loudest laugh, and someone unapologetically wearing leopard.

Chances are, I'll be there. Champagne in hand.

Cheers.

— Noah