Did you hear Diddy’s looking for an assistant? We’re fluent in pop culture, we’re hip, we’re with it, and we’ve watched his new wannabe-Apprentice show on VH1 called I Want to Work For Diddy enough to know we could school any one of those applicants. So when we showed up at his Sean John fashion presentation last night at his 1710 Broadway headquarters (he did a presentation, not a full-fledged show at the tents), we perked up our posture in hopes of becoming his wild-card qualifying candidate. After all, we work in fashion. Diddy, did the accuracy of The Devil Wears Prada teach you nothing? We can handle whatever you throw at us.
Diddy agreed to a one-on-one sit-down in his sixth-floor boardroom, away from the party on the third floor to chat with us about the line. Ahem. He already wants to see us alone? We’re on the fast track to success! This was the perfect opportunity to convince him our biceps are big enough to carry the twenty-pound bags filled with BlackBerry chargers, an Apple laptop, hand lotion, Mott’s applesauce cartons, and three iPods that he makes his assistants lug around 24/7. And when he arrived, he opened up the doors of the boardroom into his private office, a peachy-white carpeted haven with a wooden desk and white chairs. We could get comfy here, we thought. Diddy sat down in his gray pants and white crewneck tee, mere inches away from our face. We saw his white boxer-brief underwear, too. But really, who hasn’t?
We got all the other questions, like how’s the line, what’s your inspiration, congrats on the new I Am King fragrance, blah blah blah, out of the way just in time to ask the almighty mother lode: After knowing us for eleven minutes and participating in somewhat of a staring contest without breaking eye contact for the entire duration, would he hire us? “I would let you be my assistant. I can feel your energy,” Diddy told us, staring into our eyes, sans sunglasses, his signature cover-up to hide emotions. The eye lock lasted a little too long, though, and for a hot minute we forgot we wanted to be his assistant, not his twentysomething arm candy. But he wasn’t playing us, he actually added more: “You’ve been looking at me in my eyes this whole time so you’re not afraid of me. You don’t seem like you let people push you over, and I need my assistants to be like that.”
Read between those lines, suckers. It takes eye contact and energy for this man. And, in more or less words, he offered us the job. Peace out, New York Mag! We have Aubrey O’Day’s schedule to manage. —Sharon Clott