Saint Vanity, haloed in opulence, moves like a sacred procession of one. Their presence commands reverence—lips carved for benedictions, eyes that judge and bless. Adorned in relics of self-worship, they are the sermon and the altar, divine by declaration. Heaven envies their poise; earth bows beneath jeweled steps. Not born holy—but made holy by adoration, reflection, and the sheer audacity of glory.