Winter Social.
The Antinous Theater Ballroom was the height of class that night. When the sun set and the orange sky was swallowed whole by pitch black, the Theater's lights flashed open like beams, making the building shine like a diamond jewel at the heart of the city. Expensive cars went on queue in front of the Theater as prestigious guests stepped out of them one by one. Old money, nouveau riche. An actor here, a businessman there. Madison Grey, Gabriel Baltimore, Michael Ashworth. They were all people with names that carried weight in Manta Carlos, and they all flocked like birds to be with their own kind. It was all part of the game, as sad as it was to acknowledge. Their money built the Art Gallery, but the people that supplied the art where nowhere to be found.
The Ballroom was out of a fairy tale. It wasn't too overtly done. Antoinette wouldn't have that. He was the type that would prefer the architecture spoke for itself. On their own, the grand spiral staircase, the large crystal chandelier, the Greek marble columns, and polished grey and white linoleum dance floor were a marvel to behold. It was simply a matter of enhancing its own beauty. Antoinette opted to decorate the walls with rich, velvety midnight blue curtains with silver and white rope, with the table cloths being similar to texture and form. White roses and blood red chrysanthemums were arranged in vases and stands to make everything more eye catching and full of life. In the background, the live orchestra played Handel's Water Music Suite No. 2.
Zoom into the contents of the ballroom, and there were round tables for the guests to seat themselves and socialize. The hired caterers made rounds offering hors d'evours, desserts, and champagne to the guests. The food table had several aged wines, a chocolate fountain, and shrimp available. Around the sides were marble fountains and statues in Julian's personal collection to give the air of culture around them, and at the center were the pieces presented. This month's winter gallery was a collection of Julian Antoinette's favorite pieces from this year, handpicked and loved by the buyer. He might not be passionate in socials, but he was passionate in this, and he hoped they would gain the recognition they deserved instead of snubbed once again by half of his guests.
Julian Antoinette himself was quite the sight. The dress he wore was a commission from Dior, the shoes he wore were gifts from Alexander McQueen and the jewelry was part of his collection from his old Victorian home. He was nothing less than the perfect host, so much so that the grace in his movements and charm in his words could never betray how he himself detested these sort of parties.
Now, it wasn't an insult to his guests, per se, but looking pretty and being impeccably polite and composed took a lot out of Julian. They were all very shallow interactions, barely worth remembering no matter how convincing his fake chuckles were. He greeted the newcomers one by one, asked them each how their day went and exchanged compliments, and when the double doors began to be clogged with people, he climbed the stairs and made a rehearsed speech. When it was done, the audience clapped and began to socialize on their own.
There were more people coming in, but the party itself was starting to hit full swing. Julian didn't need to coddle it anymore. He picked up one of the glasses of champagne and browsed the gallery among the guests. The pieces were all so wonderful. Often, when he was done appreciating the style, details and textures, Julian found himself wondering what the painter was thinking and what kind of person they were. In his mind, they were as grand and as rich as their pieces, artwork in human form. From experience, they tended to be dull. But he hoped. He never stopped hoping.
He'd sent invitations to the artists. He wondered if they would come.
The Ballroom was out of a fairy tale. It wasn't too overtly done. Antoinette wouldn't have that. He was the type that would prefer the architecture spoke for itself. On their own, the grand spiral staircase, the large crystal chandelier, the Greek marble columns, and polished grey and white linoleum dance floor were a marvel to behold. It was simply a matter of enhancing its own beauty. Antoinette opted to decorate the walls with rich, velvety midnight blue curtains with silver and white rope, with the table cloths being similar to texture and form. White roses and blood red chrysanthemums were arranged in vases and stands to make everything more eye catching and full of life. In the background, the live orchestra played Handel's Water Music Suite No. 2.
Zoom into the contents of the ballroom, and there were round tables for the guests to seat themselves and socialize. The hired caterers made rounds offering hors d'evours, desserts, and champagne to the guests. The food table had several aged wines, a chocolate fountain, and shrimp available. Around the sides were marble fountains and statues in Julian's personal collection to give the air of culture around them, and at the center were the pieces presented. This month's winter gallery was a collection of Julian Antoinette's favorite pieces from this year, handpicked and loved by the buyer. He might not be passionate in socials, but he was passionate in this, and he hoped they would gain the recognition they deserved instead of snubbed once again by half of his guests.
Julian Antoinette himself was quite the sight. The dress he wore was a commission from Dior, the shoes he wore were gifts from Alexander McQueen and the jewelry was part of his collection from his old Victorian home. He was nothing less than the perfect host, so much so that the grace in his movements and charm in his words could never betray how he himself detested these sort of parties.
Now, it wasn't an insult to his guests, per se, but looking pretty and being impeccably polite and composed took a lot out of Julian. They were all very shallow interactions, barely worth remembering no matter how convincing his fake chuckles were. He greeted the newcomers one by one, asked them each how their day went and exchanged compliments, and when the double doors began to be clogged with people, he climbed the stairs and made a rehearsed speech. When it was done, the audience clapped and began to socialize on their own.
There were more people coming in, but the party itself was starting to hit full swing. Julian didn't need to coddle it anymore. He picked up one of the glasses of champagne and browsed the gallery among the guests. The pieces were all so wonderful. Often, when he was done appreciating the style, details and textures, Julian found himself wondering what the painter was thinking and what kind of person they were. In his mind, they were as grand and as rich as their pieces, artwork in human form. From experience, they tended to be dull. But he hoped. He never stopped hoping.
He'd sent invitations to the artists. He wondered if they would come.
