Do you remember that guy who became an internet legend by sprinkling salt? Salt Bae? I thought his story was the perfect success fairy tale, but it turns out it’s more of a horror show.

At the beginning, everything was magical. Turkish chef Nusret Gokce grew up in a poor family, worked in a slaughterhouse, then flew to Argentina to learn the art of slicing. He returned, opened a small restaurant with eight tables. Then in 2017, his 36-second film went viral—the salt gesture, left leg bent, right arm raised high, fingers twisted elegantly. It looks like a dancing move, but it’s salt falling from his muscles, straight onto the steak. The whole motion is hypnotizing.

Bruno Mars saw it on Twitter and shared it. One night, and the video jumped from a few thousand to 2.4 million views. After that, it was all downhill for the internet. Salt Bae quickly took off—trademark, restaurants in Istanbul, Miami, New York, London, Dubai, Mykonos. In total, 31 locations around the world. The first outlet in New York was making a million in its first month.

And what about the prices? In London, a steak wrapped in 24-karat gold costs 700 pounds. Meat pasta costs 95 pounds. A hamburger with gold costs 100 pounds. In Dubai, gold beef costs 1250 dirhams. But people paid. Stars came flocking—DiCaprio, Messi, the entire Beckham family, Diddy. Salt Bae flew by private jet, had two Rolls-Royces, and a collection of cars worth a million pounds. It was a dream.

But dreams end. By 2023, things started falling apart. A client paid 500 pounds so that salt bae would cut her steak personally, while he sat there talking on the phone with his headset on. Employees began complaining—being fired for minor infractions, unpaid overtime, tips being deducted. One employee described the job as “very tense,” with long hours, and even overseeing when people drank water. Salt Bae was described as “full of hostility and intimidation.” Requests for him to give foot massages. He was seeing different women after shifts. And that expensive steak? It turned out to be a scam—thin layers of cheap, edible gold that allowed it to be sold for several hundred pounds more.

In New York, a bartender accused the manager of sexual harassment and demanded “a short skirt and high heels.” The case went to mediation, but the work culture driven by salt bae became impossible to hide.

It gets even worse—his relationship with Diddy, who was accused of sexual crimes. Salt Bae cooked for him and took part in parties. Now it’s his negative label.

And do you remember the final of the 2022 World Cup? Salt Bae ran onto the pitch, forced himself to embrace Messi, kissed the trophy, and disrupted the ceremony. FIFA launched an investigation; he apologized, saying, “I was overwhelmed with excitement,” but the internet didn’t buy it. Everyone talked about his mania for popularity.

Now his dining empire is in crisis. Losses of 5.4 million pounds. Of seven restaurants, only two remain—barely holding on. Employees are revealing the real story.

Salt Bae’s story shows something important: in the age of influencers, success can come quickly, but when the shine fades and there aren’t solid foundations, the fall is even faster. He was a star for a gesture, but it turned out he was just a person without ethics.