In the story’s first paragraph, Fitzgerald uses visual imagery to depict the setting outside the posh country club that Bernice and her “friends” are partying in:
AFTER DARK on Saturday night one could stand on the first tee of the golf-course and see the country-club windows as a yellow expanse over a very black and wavy ocean. The waves of this ocean, so to speak, were the heads of many curious caddies, a few of the more ingenious chauffeurs, the golf professional’s deaf sister—[...]
Here, Fitzgerald describes what an onlooker would see if they looked toward the country club at night from the nearby golf course. The depiction of the country club windows as a "yellow expanse" over a "very black and wavy ocean" paints a picture of the club's glowing windows standing out against a dark, mysterious backdrop. The contrast of the "ocean" and the crowd inside the club also points to the exclusivity of the social set who are permitted to be inside.
This “ocean” is a way of describing the vastly divided social dynamics of the time through physical language. Country clubs in the early 20th century were bastions of affluence and old-world prejudices. They often segregated members by class and status and deliberately excluded those who weren’t white and Christian. To emphasize this, Fitzgerald lumps together members of the servant class (the caddies and chauffeurs) as a dark and undifferentiated "ocean" outside the club’s walls. They and other non-elite people like “the golf professional’s deaf sister” are peripheral to the club's well-heeled clientele and can only look in on their activities from the outside. Through this visual contrast, the author shows the rigid class distinctions of early-20th-century America and underscores the sense of exclusion felt by those who were not part of the upper class. The light glowing from the club windows makes it seem like a welcoming, pleasant beacon of social gathering. However, as the reader soon finds out, it’s actually anything but pleasant and relaxing when one gets inside.
While Bernice is sitting in the barber’s chair getting her hair cut into a bob, she’s so emotionally overwhelmed that the world seems distant and unreal to her. Fitzgerald uses tactile imagery to show how Bernice's intense emotions block everything but her sense of touch out:
But Bernice saw nothing, heard nothing. Her only living sense told her that this man in the white coat had removed one tortoise-shell comb and then another; that his fingers were fumbling clumsily with unfamiliar hairpins; that this hair, this wonderful hair of hers, was going—she would never again feel its long voluptuous pull as it hung in a dark-brown glory down her back.
The tactile imagery the author uses here emphasizes the sensory language of weight, pulling, tugging, and handling that fills this passage. Bernice's acute awareness of the barber’s touch highlights her disconnection from other senses. Because she can barely feel anything else, she and the reader focus solely on the physical sensations associated with her hair. This choice of description conveys her intense emotional connection to her hair: it’s not just one part of her appearance, it’s a weighty and important part of how she perceives herself. The language Fitzgerald employs to describe her hair before it’s cut—its "voluptuous pull" on her scalp and its "dark-brown glory"—underscores the significance of her hair to her identity. This, in turn, helps explain the deep sense of loss she feels when it’s gone. This narrowing of her sensory experience to touch alone points to Bernice's distress as she faces the consequences of her previous bravado.
