I’m Just Sayin’: How This Wannabe Lawyer Turned Into A Rockstar Publicist

As a kid, I never had any burning aspirations to become a publicist. It simply was not in the list of fancy professions with a fancy paycheck – you know the ones that make people go “WOW, you’re a _______ (fill in the blank).

To tell you the truth, I wasn’t even quite clear as to what “public relations” really meant. I actually thought that it was one of those bullshit jobs that all the idiots who lamentably failed in school could venture into since it seemingly required no special skills at all except for the ability to be in public and develop social relationships with the people in that very public. Needless to say, in my mind, it encompassed anything and everything requiring an audience, and was sort of like a euphemism for a slew of customer service-oriented jobs ranging from “hostess” to, yes, “nightwalker”. Seriously, objectively speaking, aren’t we all in the business of public relations – constantly promoting ourselves in social circles?

The bottom line was that it was just too provincial for me to be remotely interested, plus I wanted my very own office – for vanitous social status effect, of course. I don’t know why but I had this vision of me walking down the hallway of my hugely successful law firm, sporting – to a T – a kick ass, expensive Yves St Laurent “tailleur” and carrying a Louis Vuitton attaché-case filled with important documents. And as I passed all the cubicles while heading down to my big executive corporate office in a Miranda Priestly fashion, I could hear the entire staff murmuring with a frisson of terror and utter panic “Miss Elyafi is here “. Meryl Streep had nothing on me, and if anything totally stole my gig!

I was only ten years old and had already mentally designed the vixen of all vixens. What can I say? The minute I saw Joan Collins play Alexis Colby in DYNASTY, I knew I wanted to be her. I’m not gonna lie! Ever since I was knee-high I had a fascination for the anti-hero. I want to blame my older brother Karim for my then natural inclination to be the antagonist because he always made me be the villain in whatever TV shows we were re-enacting at home. When we played Star Wars, I was Darth Vador; with James Bond, I was Dr.No; in Superman, I was Lex Luthor; and even when we made our own version of JAWS, I somehow managed –don’t ask me how – to be the freaking shark.

So with such a prolific past record playing the bad guy you can certainly understand why the minute Dynasty hit our small screens I wanted nothing to do with cry-baby, goody-two-shoes, pathetic Crystal. Even the seemingly bad-ass, Stephanie Powers in “Hart to Hart” used to drive me nuts with her infamous “Jooonaaathaaan” cheesy soap opera-esque high-pitch cry to TV hubbie Robert Wagner – and there was one of those obnoxious yelps, guaranteed, in each episode which infallibly would make me very angry and have me uselessly yell at the TV monitor: “will you please get a grip of yourself Jennifer!”

It was probably a good thing that, back then, my single-working mom was too busy worrying about my older brother, who was making a solid career as the center of my family’s universe being the problem child, to pay close attention to my rebellious theatrics and unconventional un-lady-like state of mind, otherwise she might have detected the black sheep genes in me and sent me straight to some Princess Leia etiquette school for a pronto emergency rehab.

The reason why I am unloading all of my childhood baggage on you is so you understand why naturally what happened in the next chapter of my life happened.
As you know, my goal growing up was to become a lawyer. But not just any lawyers – an “important” one (whatever that really meant)- practicing in the US because back in Paris, France I was taught America was the land of opportunity; and need I remind you as well that it was where British transplant, Alexis Colby, was obviously making a successful living as business entrepreneur/super mogul doing God knows what it was that she was really doing.

So at the tender age of nineteen, I moved to the US, did my BA in Los Angeles, switched coast for a year to get my masters in New York, and then moved back to LA. Everything was going according to plan. I was for sure going to become this ruthless, bloodthirsty shark of a lawyer and had already made up my mind as to what my vocational speciality would be. Since I was passionately fascinated with villains, I thought I would either practice criminal law or simply work in the entertainment business as some sort of legal rep. I mean, both fields prolifically abound with mentally deranged people – you know what I mean: serial killers, psychopaths, and other types of freaks (of nature) with hugely misplaced egos, fabulously distorted sense of self and abnormally complex personality disorders. Same difference, right?

Well, something terribly wrong happened along the way. Somehow, on accident, I got wind of the fact that there was a job out there allowing me to do more than legally defend my beloved psychos. On top of representing them, apparently I could as well hype and promote the hell out of them. And get this! I also had carte blanche to design an entirely new image on their behalf, and even, when applicable, market their “Bad Boy/Bad Girl” reputation. As far as I’m concerned, if you can’t be them, be with them – if you catch my drift!

So for lack of being “good”, I decided to be good at it – “it” being my active membership participation in the club of egomaniacs that potentially could have had me as a member had I amassed any kind of ephemeral celebrity skills to earn my unmerited fifteen minutes of fame.

So that’s how, at my own masochistic peril, I admirably entered the extraordinarily twisted glamorous hub of insanity called Public Relations. That’s right! Very much by default, I became a publicist -or as we say in French, which sounds way fancier, an “attache-de-presse” (albeit sans the Louis Vuitton attaché-case, which by the way is still on my Santa wish list – hint, hint!).

And because I don’t do things “half-ass”, as my first celebrity client, I snatched the God of all freaks – The Super Freak himself aka Rick James.
The year was 1997, which, if you know your music history, meant that Funk kingpin Rick James had just been released from jail after spending his sentence in Folsom Prison for assaulting two women while under the influence of crack cocaine.

Yeah me! Give it to me Baby: a career Hallmark; and it was happening, right off the bat, at my auspicious PR debut. Can you seriously think of anything better to ask for to christen your entrance into the work force? Hello real (scary) world, please scar me for life!

But as the adage goes “ask, and you shall receive”. So just like that, I had scored (no pun intended) a hit: a crack-head A-list legendary client who had faced three life sentences for a total of 15 felony counts; convicted for battery, kidnapping and torture charges.

Long story abridged, while incarcerated, Super Freak converted to Islam, joined Narcotics Anonymous, began writing his autobiography, and finally returned to songwriting producing a new album dubbed “Urban Rhapsody”. That’s where I came in! Well not me personally but the PR Company I was employed at, which obviously Mr. James had hired to promote his new album.

What really attracted me to this specific PR firm, beside the fact that it was the only one that answered the unsolicited job query I submitted via fax (yes kids once upon a not so long time ago there was a world sans internet!), was that it seemed to be cashing in on the then “Whatever Happened to” VH1 TV phenomenon. Being a consummate 80s fiend, I had obviously found my perfect drug. Now I’m not particularly the kind to get star-struck, but c’mon, you have to admit there’s a certain element of coolness in working with the music talents you grew up listening to. And I’ll unabashedly namedrop here: Chaka Khan, Gloria Gaynor, Taylor Dayne, Rick Springfield and James Brown.

But going back to my Super Freak, the reason why he became my first client was not because I was a PR prodigy and skipped the “paying your dues” ritual in climbing the ladder of the “title” hierarchy. Not at all! I was very much commencing at the bottom as an “assistant publicist.” But as luck would have it, Rick James somehow took a liking in me and demanded that I’d be the assigned publicist accompanying him on every media interview. Needless to say, that translated more into baby-sitting than client repping. But at least I got to learn the most important survival skill that is the basic foundation for a successful career in Entertainment PR, namely the ability to mind-read and understand the psyche of a celebrity. In other words, I learned to master the art of diplomacy.

Seriously, try spending an hour chatting with Rick James! If you’re not uber meticulous and wickedly articulate with your words, your little tête-à-tête can tragically quickly turn into conversational quicksand.

My platonic love story with the Funkmeister started the very first time I met him on the set of his music video. I’m not gonna go into all the details of everything that happened between Rick and I. I’ll leave that entire chapter for the memoirs I am penning about this work in progress called “my life” which will be published by ____________ (Attention all book publishing companies out there: SIGN ME AND YOUR NAME WILL BE PRINTED HERE)

Let’s just say that he fabulously lived up to his “train wreck” reputation, yet, at the same time, honorably met all my professional expectations – and so much more. There’s a good reason why, since, he single-handedly became my very dear and most beloved mentor/client.
Side Bar: Madame O, you can have the exclusivity on the story if you book me on your show.

Granted the Super Freak was a baddest mother’f—er – definitely the kind you don’t take home to mother! But, for reasons beyond my comprehension, to me, he was a beautiful fucked-up mess of genial inspirational brilliance! I guess, sometimes you find guidance, love and support from the people you least expected to.

Rick James not only helped to shape my “publicist” mind during my formative years (and incidentally made me catch the PR bug), but he also, and most importantly showed me – long before Meredith Grey in “Grey’s Anatomy” said it – that:
“You can waste your lives drawing lines. Or you can live your life crossing them. But there are some lines that are way too dangerous to cross. Here’s what (he knew): If you’re willing to take a chance… the view from the other side… is spectacular.”

Or maybe I became a publicist because my ego was just the right size?
…I’m just sayin’!