The Entourage Problem
At this point, telling you I somehow managed to miss an entire event or that I've never been to a certain club is becoming less and less believable, I've noticed. I quite enjoy the image, honestly. The idea that I somehow know every venue, every DJ, every afterparty and every bit of Second Life nightlife gossip before it happens. It makes me sound connected. Mysterious even. The downside is that it becomes increasingly awkward to ask perfectly reasonable questions like, "So... where's the party?"
And of course I do have a team that should take care of such matters. Not everyone seems to know that, which surprised me. It's remarkable how quickly a worldwide blockbuster disappears from collective memory, because I'm still very much on the A-list. My lattes don't simply appear out of thin air. They're delivered by an ever-changing collection of assistants whose names I'm convinced are generated moments before they introduce themselves.
Naturally, I expect these people to handle logistics. Which party am I attending? Who else is going? Is it good for the brand? Does my outfit match the venue? These are not things I concern myself with. I'm talent.
Unfortunately, after a short streak of arriving just as the final track ended, showing up at events that had already been cancelled, or enthusiastically walking into places where absolutely nobody was expecting me, my manager decided changes had to be made. A few assistants were reassigned, several clipboards were exchanged with serious expressions and I was sent to the Sunday edition of Voltage at The Continental. Which, incidentally, is surprisingly easy to miss if you rely on group notices, because they have a habit of announcing things fashionably late.
The panic was unnecessary, though. Voltage Sundays was where I was supposed to be. The Continental looked gorgeous, the crowd equally so and DJs Naty and Trixie kept everything moving with a smooth, laid-back set that makes a Sunday afternoon disappear far faster than it has any right to.
My team assures me this was exactly the plan all along.
Anyway, enough reading. Have a look for yourself.
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This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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