Gatsby Newspaper Article
Gatsby?..What Gatsby?
The man that has had everyone talking lately, has had yet another extravaganza at his West Egg home, hundreds of people showed up by the dozens last night to drink, dance and carry on from dusk until morning light.
The success of Gatsby’s lavish parties had everyone, especially the women, talking who this mystery millionaire was? Rumours flew my way once the champagne had started taking affect, “I heard he was a German spy”, “I’m sure he is part of a mob” were only the start of these elaborate guesses of the man. “He throws all these glamorous parties” says guest, Clarence Endive - who claims to have been personally invited by Gatsby himself – “but he is never seen around, nobody has ever met him before.” The thrill seeking partygoers were thwarted as Gatsby once again did not make an entrance, or so we all thought.
The night was exquisite; champagne glasses glimmered in the light and confetti fell like silver rain on the high-society swirl of socialites. The movie stars swanned around, showgirls can-canned, and the politicians traded wet kisses of unscrupulousness. The ladies wore slinky, silk kimonos and sheer dresses whose beading looked as if it had been sewn onto air, whereas the men were fitted in their utmost formal attire of bow ties and tailored suits. These costumes however, did not look the same by the end of the night.
Half way through the evening, the sky erupted into fireworks, the champagne began to flow like monsoon rain and the wild party roared. The party culminated in the ‘kaleidoscope carnival’ of this absurdly opulent mansion; myself and everyone around me were in a state of euphoria. The atmosphere of my surroundings had a drunken, dizzying beat that simultaneously invigorated and enervated you.
The party petered out as the suns first rays cast shadows over the debris of a night’s debauchery, guests slunk home already looking forward to the next party where they will once again escape into the world of illusion
The man that has had everyone talking lately, has had yet another extravaganza at his West Egg home, hundreds of people showed up by the dozens last night to drink, dance and carry on from dusk until morning light.
The success of Gatsby’s lavish parties had everyone, especially the women, talking who this mystery millionaire was? Rumours flew my way once the champagne had started taking affect, “I heard he was a German spy”, “I’m sure he is part of a mob” were only the start of these elaborate guesses of the man. “He throws all these glamorous parties” says guest, Clarence Endive - who claims to have been personally invited by Gatsby himself – “but he is never seen around, nobody has ever met him before.” The thrill seeking partygoers were thwarted as Gatsby once again did not make an entrance, or so we all thought.
The night was exquisite; champagne glasses glimmered in the light and confetti fell like silver rain on the high-society swirl of socialites. The movie stars swanned around, showgirls can-canned, and the politicians traded wet kisses of unscrupulousness. The ladies wore slinky, silk kimonos and sheer dresses whose beading looked as if it had been sewn onto air, whereas the men were fitted in their utmost formal attire of bow ties and tailored suits. These costumes however, did not look the same by the end of the night.
Half way through the evening, the sky erupted into fireworks, the champagne began to flow like monsoon rain and the wild party roared. The party culminated in the ‘kaleidoscope carnival’ of this absurdly opulent mansion; myself and everyone around me were in a state of euphoria. The atmosphere of my surroundings had a drunken, dizzying beat that simultaneously invigorated and enervated you.
The party petered out as the suns first rays cast shadows over the debris of a night’s debauchery, guests slunk home already looking forward to the next party where they will once again escape into the world of illusion