Concierge Price: $5000
**GLAM COSMIC JET-SET BABE CHOCOLATE ISN’T A TREAT—IT’S A TERRITORIAL CLAIM.**
Let’s cut through the noise like a diamond-tipped blade through cheap foil.
You think this is about chocolate?
Wrong.
This is about **sovereignty**. This is about **taste as power**. This is about what happens when intergalactic luxury collides with earthly desire—and only the elite get to swallow the aftermath.
Forget everything you thought you knew about confectionery. The $5,000 **Glam Cosmic Jet-Set Babe Chocolate** isn’t sold. It’s *bestowed*. And only to those who’ve already transcended the peasant economy of “affordable indulgence.”
This isn’t Willy Wonka’s fever dream. This is **real-world opulence**, engineered in zero-compromise labs where cacao beans are hand-selected under moonlight by women who’ve never once checked a price tag in their lives. Infused with 24-karat edible stardust (yes, that’s a real thing now), wrapped in silk-lined meteorite-black packaging that hums when you hold it too long—because even the box knows it’s in the presence of royalty.
And it’s **exclusive to Slay Club World members only**.
Not influencers. Not “aspirational” nobodies with rent-to-own Birkins. We’re talking **women who own penthouses in three hemispheres**, who charter private jets not to *get somewhere*, but because the sky is their waiting room. Women who’ve tasted escargot in Paris, matcha theatre in Hyderabad, and baklava so cold it freezes time—but still demanded *more*. So we gave them **chocolate that tastes like a supernova wearing Louboutins**.
Every bite is a declaration: *I don’t consume. I curate reality.*
The flavor? Imagine velvet dipped in nebula, kissed by vanilla orchids grown in volcanic soil on a private island that doesn’t appear on Google Maps. There’s a whisper of Himalayan pink salt—harvested by monks who’ve taken vows of silence… and secrecy. And a core of single-origin Criollo so rare, most chocolatiers have only heard rumors of it in hushed tones at Davos after-parties.
This chocolate doesn’t melt in your mouth.
It **melts dimensions**.
You think $5,000 is steep?
Good. That’s the point.
If your first reaction is to calculate cost-per-ounce, close this tab. Go buy your sad little artisan square from a farmer’s market stall. This isn’t for you. This is for the woman who **doesn’t ask “can I afford it?”—she asks “is it worthy of me?”**
And Glam Cosmic Jet-Set Babe Chocolate?
It kneels.
Delivered worldwide via white-glove courier who doesn’t speak unless spoken to—and even then, only in riddles. Each shipment includes a holographic certificate of authenticity, a vial of the cacao terroir dust, and a handwritten note from the Slay Alchemist who spent 117 sleepless nights perfecting the texture so it dissolves on the tongue like a secret too powerful to keep.
This isn’t dessert.
It’s **diplomatic immunity for your palate**.
And if you’re not already in Slay Club World?
Don’t beg. Don’t DM. Don’t slide into inboxes with “I’m manifesting abundance.”
Abundance doesn’t manifest.
It **conquers**.
Membership isn’t purchased. It’s *recognized*.
Like a lion recognizing another lion across a savanna of sheep.
So while the world chews on mass-produced mediocrity wrapped in eco-guilt and soy lecithin, the true jet-set goddesses are sipping Dom Pérignon Rosé Gold and letting a single sphere of cosmic chocolate rewrite their DNA.
Because luxury isn’t about having more.
It’s about **being so untouchable, even your indulgences become legends**.
Now—
Go check your Slay Club portal.
Your delivery window just opened.
And the universe doesn’t wait for latecomers.
Concierge Price: $5000
Slay Concierge Purchase note
This listing information is reserved exclusively for GOLD PLUS VIP MEMBERS. CLICK HERE TO BECOME A MEMBER
This is about **sovereignty**. This is about **taste as power**. This is about what happens when intergalactic luxury collides with earthly desire—and only the elite get to swallow the aftermath. Forget everything you thought you knew about confectionery. The $5,000 **Glam Cosmic Jet-Set Babe Chocolate** isn’t sold. It’s *bestowed*.
