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Description of a fancy dress party
"the fancy dress competition" describe in detail the atmostphere of the competition (including the moment when the winner is announced and the costume




The luxurious sense of wealth rises through the air, drawing me inside its lair. Notes sway in the background, unnoticed, masked by pretentious, pompous, portentous noise. Shrieks of show and false flattery surround me. Welcome to the dark side. As the front door slams shut away from cold, fresh outside air, it screams for heads to turn. They stop. Look. Judge. Your colour isn’t bright enough, you don’t sparkle, it’s not enough, your not enough. Snake eyes stare, through shielded designs, everyone is a stranger. They say not to talk to strangers. She leans against the wall, he legs taut, her body strapped stiffly in to the cage of her clothes, red and black, black and red. Her legs impressed with nets, fishnets, to catch the hungry gulping fish eyes staring throughout the room. The rings around her eyes are dark, smudged, and the smoldeing affect can’t hide her worn expression. Behind the mask of red lips, polished hair, clashing pearls, she is tired. This game is too much for her.

The lights are dim, yet the reflection of sequins, gold feathers, ludicrously gaudy designs reflect the blinding light and you shield your eyes from the scorch. Champagne and the stars glitter in plastic flutes, the bubbles catch in my throat, and other smoothly sip and sway their glasses with an air of dignity. Trays of treats and carefully formed supplements, decorated lavishly concealing the salmonella with in, are passed lightly, and carefully, weaving in and out of the masquerade of tall pillared bodies. They are but a wisp of air, but a slight movement in the background, of no importance, of no colour, of no wealth. The clock strikes an unnatural hour, the booming clangs of the metal pendulum stun the golden bodies to a stop. A stand still. Like time itself, we are no longer “chums”, we no longer lightly admire each others wings, the “oh darling what a beautiful ring” stop. The wide spread grins of whitened fangs clamp shut. With a start the tempo increases, as heart beats fasten, bodies tighten in, swarm around the stage, flies swarming around a sticky cake .A cake iced up, the fluorescent colours luring them in, gaudy, extravagantly laced up; but in the end it’s just cake isn’t it?

Bodies move as a the booming voice, uses language only heard in Shakespeare, his voice snarls and laughs at his own humour, coursed by sheep, high pitched giggling, staring at his pockets, and the gold cuffs of his Armani Jacket. He oozes colour. Masked from them selves they can do what they please, they are who they want to be, and what they want to be is her.

The carousel continues to prattle on, as I look down at myself, a sense of shame fills my vessels; it pumps through my veins, and leaks into my arteries, spilling out my anxiety. No one can see me. I remember the minutes before the clock struck - party. I’d twirled in the mirror, the green sash glittering like the ocean. My long locks smooth and flowing, reminded me of crystal waters, and I could picture my tail pulsing gracefully through the ripples. I didn’t need the sun to make me shine. I was queen of the sea, boosted with bride, my eyes shining in the mirror. In this light, my tail is lifeless, the colours merge to mess, absorb the light, making me loan dark figure. It hangs off my awkward frame, and hunched shoulders, pathetically false. Not bright enough, not rich enough, not enough.

It snaps.
The colours swirl, as the glittered colours squash in, pushing shoving through to the front. To catch a better glimpse, a better view of the showcase. The music hysterically helter-skelter’s my brain, and the colour fade into one blur of white light. The room spins endlessly as fabrics of velvet, satin and linen sweep over the sky, swallowing the starts. They swarm like parasites, attracted to colour, oozing over the naïve victim. Glasses smash, and it spills out onto the soft fresh white carpet, stained red. The predators leap on to their prey, engulfing it whole.
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