Picasso Baby

11 Jul Picasso Baby

I love New York and all it’s randomness, especially on days like this.

A little after 11:30 yesterday morning, my co-worker marches back to my desk and says she has an adventure to present to me.

“‘Kay, I’m listening,” I tell her.

She says that her line-sister sent her an invitation, Jay-Z is shooting something at The 40/40 Club and at the very least we should head there during lunch to see if we can get in.

Um. YES.

Times like this make me thankful I keep heels under my desk. A swipe of YSL Rouge Volupte Provocative Pink later, she and I are in a cab whizzing to The 40/40 anxious to see what we’re getting into.

Except when we get out of the cab, we don’t see any of the telling signs of a good time waiting to be had. There isn’t a line, they’re aren’t cameras flashing outside, that Mercedes-Benz van Beyoncè rides in isn’t idling at the door. Nada. Still we continue inside after showing the bouncer our IDs.

“What’s your number?” A girl asks before directing my co-worker to have a seat and wait for the next set of directions. Little did we know this would set the tone for the day. My co-worker and I make small talk with one of the other girl’s waiting for the cue it was time to head to the next “location.”

So, it was at this point, when we were loaded up into that Mercedes-Benz van like the one Bey rides in, headed to the “location,” that I text my friends, “if I die, Jay-Z did it. Tell my mom.” The van lets us out across the street from Pace art gallery and we walk into a warehouse where we check our bags, get our hands stamped (now fading–with MCHG stamps, no less) sign another waiver giving our “likeness to S.Carter Enterprises LLC,” are photographed holding said waiver and ID before sitting down to wait some more.

….and more…

An hour later, there’s movement! We’re ushered across the street to the actual gallery where we can hear “Picasso Baby” playing. We wait in line some more. Also sweat off our makeup and then feel inadequate as Alexander Wang strolls by in a floor length fur, fresh blow out billowing behind him in the wind. Repeat as Tyson Beckford and his perfect-looking girlfriend stroll through the doors to the gallery and into the air conditioning. Feelings of inadequacy continue when Adrien Grainer, Judd Apatow, Wale and Elliot Wilson all walk past.

Finally, it’s our turn to feel that heavenly blast of air conditioning as we step into Pace. We head into a stark white space. The waiting, this time, feels different. I get my camera ready and a hype man slash production assistant tells us to get excited because Jay-Z is on his way out.

Sir. We don’t need you to tell us to get excited. Especially when we’ve been standing on our feet, in heels, in the sun for hours. I’m about to make this worth it. I don’t need you to tell me to enjoy this moment.

Jay-Z steps out and takes his white square platform stage looking like… crisp dollar bills from the bank. In this moment, y’all, it was all worth it. Signing over my first child, risking the Illuminati visiting me in my sleep for taking pictures, all of it, because watching Blue Ivy’s daddy have fun with his fans is something we should all aspire to. Bloom where we’re planted. He had someone’s grandmother rapping along with him, word for word as her Birkin swung in the crook of her arm. He performed the song twice for my group (and each of the others, so he probably performed that at least 10 times) each time with the same amount of excitement and energy. He didn’t even break a sweat.

Like what? Is this life? My life?

I can’t wait to see the video. What’s your favorite song on Magna Carta Holy Grail? I can’t lie, after this experience, I really love “Picasso Baby.”