A vibe is hard to define.

In a previous piece, I spoke about my Scandinavian roots and the influence of hygge. That sense of warmth, comfort and togetherness that sits at the heart of what we try to create.

But if hygge is the feeling, this is the thing that delivers it: the vibe.

The whole thing lives or dies on it. You can have the right food, the right drinks, even the right systems, but if the feeling is off, people notice. Maybe not consciously, but they feel it the moment they walk through the door. A good vibe helps people relax quickly. A great one makes them stay. The best ones bring them back.

A vibe is hard to define. You know it when you feel it, but you can’t fully script it. It shifts constantly, depending on the time of day, the weather, the room, the mix of guests, the energy behind the bar. That’s what makes it powerful, and what makes it hard.

If you tried to break it down, it might look something like this:

Vibe = lighting + sound + visuals + scent + comfort + people + intention

But it’s never as simple as that.

It’s the music, what you play and how loud it is. It’s the lighting. Bright and lively or soft and low. It’s the glow of candles, quietly changing the tone of a table or a whole room. It’s scent, the fire, the kitchen, the familiarity of the space. It’s temperature, something people only notice when it’s wrong.

And then there’s the real driver: people and energy.

You can’t fake it. If the team feels at ease, connected, and present, the room follows. If it feels tense or scripted, guests pick that up instantly.

The tricky part is that everyone experiences a space differently. One guest wants buzz, another wants calm. One table leans into energy, another into quiet comfort. So, there’s no single “perfect” vibe you can create for everyone.

What you can create is an ‘in house’ vibe. Something consistent enough that people recognise it, feel comfortable in it, and trust it.

That’s what links The Cotley and The Candlelight. Different buildings, different teams but the same underlying feel. A warmth that’s unforced. A space that feels lived-in. An atmosphere that settles people in quickly.

Once that foundation is there, it’s about small, thoughtful shifts. Turning the music up or down. Softening the lights as the evening draws in. Letting candles take over. Reading the room and adjusting the pace.

You tweak the edges of the equation to suit the people in front of you - without ever losing the core of what makes the place feel like itself.