IF YOU WEREN’T FORCED TO READ THE GREAT GATSBY IN SCHOOL GROWING UP, THERE ARE SPOILERS AHEAD. OR MAYBE YOU ONLY READ THE CLIFFS NOTES, IN WHICH CASE, THIS IS MUCH BETTER THAN THAT.
It’s a tale as old as time. You fall in love with a rich girl. You work hard for years, building yourself up from nothing, all to impress her. Never mind that she’s married now.
Maybe the hard work you do isn’t exactly legal. But maybe it pays an ungodly amount more than anything legal would. You buy a big mansion directly across the harbor from her big mansion. You spend hours at night just staring at the green light at the end of her dock. Every weekend you throw lavish, debaucherous parties just hoping by chance she’ll stop by.
You learn from her friend that your neighbor is her cousin. You befriend your neighbor just so he can invite both of you over for tea sometime. He does. You reconnect. The two of you engage in a little fling. You talk about her leaving her husband for you. Her husband finds out she’s cheating. You all drive into the city together. You drink a bit. He spills the beans to her about your not-so-legal business dealings. She gets a little freaked out and decides to stay with him. You two drive back home together anyway. She wants to drive. You let her. She accidentally runs over and kills a woman that just so happens to be her husband’s mistress. You take the blame for it. The dead woman’s husband hears you did it. He comes to your house and shoots you dead in your pool.
These sunglasses are for all of those who believe in the green light. “The orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter– tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.”
Actually they’re just some really rad sunglasses from our Art Deco inspired line, The Roarin’ 2020s! If you want to add some metaphorical, inspirational meaning behind them, by all means, go ahead! But whatever you do, don’t throw your life away for a jaded, vapid, married woman who is only looking for an escape from her own boredom. It won’t end well.