Here she goes again: our anonymous publicist, whose inaugural column certainly had you all buzzing (and emailing us, which we love). This week, she tackles the tricky world of entertaining. Take notes!
Dear PR assistant,
I’m feeling educational today. Let’s take a break from scouring the internet for top bloggers in Duluth for some stellar regional pitching. Let’s talk about the most critical part of PR: entertaining!
Your relationships are everything. At your age, you should make other assistants your best friends. Today’s closet manager is tomorrow’s fashion news director. Which comes in handy later in life when you have to pitch “urgent collaboration news” between two non-advertisers, who simply changed the color of an old style and labeled it “groundbreaking.”
To cultivate these relationships, you entertain. That means that you get drunk and gossip. Dish about which digital influencer frequently steps out on her rich husband, and which editor got passed over for a fetus for a promotion. This is my forte.
Hence why I was so excited when one time I was invited out with three of fashion’s ultra-elite. I knew exactly what to do to convert them into best friends in one evening!
Here’s what you do: You are witty, charismatic and stylish enough to leave with an excuse to email them the next day. You send a quirky message about how you had a blast and have just enough of a hangover that you might need to nap in the beauty closet. You make plans for martinis next week.
Here’s what you don’t do: You don’t sneak away to a bathroom stall and text your friends that you are with you-know-who and yes her glasses are that oversized. You don’t attempt to stretch your painted-on jeans while in said stall. (Squeezing my size 30 derriere into a gifted pair of 27s is no small feat.) You definitely do NOT hear the shrapnel blast of your zipper pull ricocheting off the walls of that metallic stall coffin as you accidentally mutilate the pants, mid-sumo squat.
Because if you do those things, you’ll be forced to use your Project Runway skills to craft a waist serape out of your scarf. You’ll have to cut the evening short because you now have an extremely limited range of motion to keep your crotch window covered, and are awkwardly not moving your arms or torso. Needless to say, you won’t convert these unicorns into besties. Not this time.
Anywho, I anticipate this serape-over-jeans look will grace the windows of lower 5th Avenue any day now. Being the humble creative I am, I won’t take credit.
In any case, dearest assistant, I’m always here to teach you how to navigate our tricky social waters. Now go get back on Cision and finish that blogger list, stat.
Your favorite flack