Welcome to Kell On Earth, starring everyone’s favorite unapologetic bitch with a heart of gold, Kelly Cutrone. Kelly is the owner of People’s Revolution, otherwise known as where Lauren and Whitney worked after Teen Vogue. But if you want to be really specific about it, they do PR for fashion.
If you don’t know Kelly, here’s your introduction. She talks really fast and and says “fuck” a lot. Do I need to say more? We see her in action for the first time at her pre-fashion week office meeting. She’s there with her two partners – Robyn, who she calls Snow White with razorblades, and Emily, who right off tells us, “You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing.” First of all, a little concealer please. You’re on camera for crying out loud. And it’s really, really close up. And second of all, being a bitch kind of is a bad thing. Kelly pulls it off but you, Emily, seem like you’re a bitch just because. However, now that I know how great Emily thinks being a bitch is, I’ll try to do her justice.
Stop by Peoples Vitamins
Anyway, Kelly is telling the slaves who work for her how hard fashion week is. She tells us that fashion and the business of fashion are two totally different things. I consider the irony that someone whose business is to make fashion look – well, like fashion, prances around town with hair styled with Crisco, decked out in a mummu. Just for fun, let’s say she’s proving a point. The staff look shiny and pretty. The partners look like Andre Leon Talley gnawed on them and then spit them out like chicken wings.
It’s a statement. A smelly, ill fitting statement.
Kelly tells the team that it’s not joke and she’s playing for blood. Oh, fashion people. So un-self-important. They’re doing ten fashion shows. Ten. She says it like it’s ten shuttle launches. Get a grip, Kell. Then she basically tells the group that they’re not mean, but they’ll say mean things to you, which I’m cool with, and to basically grow a thick skin. “People have to rise to the occasion,” she states. I preach the same.
“It’s fucking fashion week so WAKE UP!” Kelly yells to the office the next day. And it’s clear to me after this exchange that perhaps I rushed to judgement on being a bitch.
Robyn: This is not okay.
Robyn’s Assistant: No, I know, but-
Robyn: No, it’s not okay and you need to figure it out.
Robyn’s Assistant: No, I know, but-
No. Whatever it is, stop explaining and figure it out.
So, we learn how much work goes into producing a fashion show, and how important the seating is. That I buy. Fashion show audiences are grown up mean girls and celebrities. That’s a lot of ego to arrange.
Then we find out that one of the clients is on his way! David Delfin, I think it is. Never heard of him, but according the PR ladies, he’s huuuuuuge in Spain. He’s friends with all the celebrities – in Spain. We see a clip of a model in a body stocking shirt and a parachute for a skirt. Naturally, Emily tells us how amazing it is.
I suspect this guy often wonders why people don’t take him seriously enough.
One of the staff, Stephanie, is dispatched to tidy up the showroom. No biggie, except that she was never properly trained on how to tidy up the showroom. Lots of sighing ensues, but she somehow pulls it together to fix the place up – only to have mean old Robyn come in and ask her to like, move something a few feet to the left. “But I was never trained,” she reminds us defensively. So? No one said you did anything wrong, she just fixed it a little bit and if you had been paying attention instead of acting like a baby about how stressful organizing a closet is, you might have learned something. Although, I suppose some positive reinforcement wouldn’t have killed Robyn. And I’m being hard on Steph. She was only whiney in the on-camera interview part, in the the showroom she was pleasant and professional. Well, besides the jogging outfit from 1983.
Robyn greets David Delfin in an impressively phony tone. She immediately name drops Penelope Cruz, being the only other person from Spain anyone knows. David Delfin looks like a Keebler Elf, and I don’t feel bad saying that because it was so his own choice to dye his hair orange. Emily tells us that people come from overseas to break into the U.S. market. And Steph sulks over the fact that Robyn didn’t throw her a parade on completion of the near impossible task of cleaning the showroom, and had – despite the fact that Steph hadn’t been trained – wanted some things moved around. Razorblades.
Kelly tells us that she hires on intuition only. Her prior assistant, another Stephanie, has now been promoted to Jr. Account Executive. Kelly’s her mentor, she tells us. The new assistant is Andrew, who has long black hair and wears bondage jewelry. The story goes, he pretty much just walked in off the street one day, and Kelly – tired of interviewing blonde girl after blonde girl who were all “really excited!” – just offered him a job. So basically, she hired a pet. Andrew performs splendidly, dutifully abandoning his business related call to join Kelly at the window where she is scouting potential boyfriends for him on the street below.
So basically you hired yourself twenty years ago with a penis.
And then, it’s time for a PR crisis. The best we can do here is the hooker from the New York governor scandal, Ashley Dupre. Last year, Ashley “crashed” one of Kelly’s fashion shows, and the designer was so pissed, he fired Kelly. She tells us it was the biggest story of fashion week. Some super-imposed headlines fill the screen, like one from Gawker. Huge story indeed. Listen, I know you’re reading this on the internet right now, but let’s be honest.
Anyway, Ashley is on the cover of the New York Post. And now she’s calling Kelly to see if she can “crash” another one. And by “crash” I mean sneak in through the side entrance when Kelly tells you to but pretends she didn’t know about it if anyone asks. Kelly invites Ash to her office for a visit.
Ashley turns up in a totally retarded outfit of gray t-shirt, straw hat and hoop earrings. She’s just a little too excited to be there. She practically waves at the cameras. Ashley’s brought her Mom along, and they all take a gander at the New York Post. They muse about how many covers has it been now, two? Oh no, Ashley scoffs, more like…a lot more. Okay, here’s the deal with the Post. It’s the best newspaper in the world. That’s because it’s the perfect mix of trash and actual news. But it’s the trash that sells it and that’s what gets the cover.
Proud Hooker Mom
Ashley’s Mom seems just as proud of her daughter as Ashley is herself over her notoriety, which makes me realize this chick never really had a chance. Ashley tells Kelly what a sympathetic figure she’s become. That’s right honey, a regular America’s sweetheart. Apparently, “the blogs” are big fans. Not this one, dear. Kelly’s staff looks away in disgust.
Everyone’s a hooker, Kelly tells us. Does she want to talk to her clients? No, but they’re paying her to “give good phone”, so she does. Okay, and that compares to having sex with them…how? We all prostitute ourselves, yes, but we are not all hookers. So Ashley’s big plan is to re-crash the fashion show that caused the whole scandal last year. She wants to hire a bunch of models, and have them picket in Yigal Azrouel Loves Ashley t-shirts. So, here’s what’s happening here. A stupid, shameless girl who happened to get a few minutes of fame in the most degrading way possible is hungry for more. Kelly flat out tells her not to do it. “Lay low,” she advises. She says it under the guise of what’s in Ashley’s best interest, but “I can’t afford another scandal,” she tells us. Kelly looks like death, by the way. I am serious. Like an actual corpse.
And then it’s time for the David Delfin show. Kelly’s in charge of everything – back of house, front of house and press. Her assistant Andrew is wearing a floor length sequined dress with a flannel shirt. Sounds crazy? Then he tells us that no one can focus on anything else with him in a getup like that, and it’s the ultimate control. Crazy like an evil genius.
Backstage, Kelly corrals the models into their “first look”, which is when they go from street clothes to fashion show clothes. There is a strict rule, she tells us, of no photography during first looks. Why? Because these girls are under eighteen and naked. Of course some moron has to start taking pictures. Kelly kicks his ass right out.
Back at the office, there’s an RSVP crisis. I would love to explain it to you, but I really can’t figure out what the problem is. All I know is, Robyn wants Ex-Assistant Stephanie to be the only one who handles the guest list because she doesn’t want to spend six hours fixing it every time it gets messed up. It’s an RSVP list. I don’t see how it’s possible to get it six hours worth of messed up, even if you wrote a strategic plan for it and sent it through the government. But then I hear the debate between Robyn’s Assistant “No, But” Andrew, and Steph over whether an RSVP means yes or no and I see how it could definitely happen.
And the next part is classic. No, But Andrew tells us that he left a successful career as a hair colorist in Beverly Hills to come to NY, follow his dream…and be called a retard every day. He tells us this in an orange tan, black pleather hoody and a big lisp, so you know, it’s easy to see how people might be confused. Then he tells us that Stephanie works so hard around the office and he just wants to help out. So he offers her an Ativan. I’m not a pill popper, she tells him. “No, no, you’re only a pill popper if you do it when you’re not stressed out,” he tells her matter of factly. No, But Andrew is the best colleague ever.
It’s only bad if you snort it.
Back at the Delfin show, Kelly’s losing feed in the ubiquitous fashion show headset. If a mistake happens, it’s always your fault, Kelly tells us. So when things go wrong, you just need to find the solution. I guess someone fixes the headset. Then it’s time for the collection. It’s mint green and for the most part, hideous. “I love David Delfin’s work,” Kelly tells us. Of course. It’s strange shit that no one wears, and we’re all unsophisticated for not getting it. But he is polite and always says thank you, says Kelly, and that makes this little Elf okay in my book. Oh, and Andrew fell in love with one of the models.
They get back to the office, and Andrew’s still talking about it. So Kelly picks up the phone and makes a date for him. Turns out that the model has a boyfriend. Andrew doesn’t really have a problem with that, but Kelly won’t let him do it. “What, do you want to have a threesome?” she asks him. A hot Spanish model, his boyfriend and a dude in a ball gown and bondage jewelry? No, I’m sure a threesome never entered his mind.
So, it turns out that the People’s Revolution building is what Kelly calls a “live/work building”. I’ve never heard of this before, but she’s a publicist, so that probably means she just made it up. Basically, it means that you never leave work which sounds terrible to me. Kelly does it so she can spend time with her kid though. She has a cute daughter named Ava who’s seven. She does an art project at the table while Kelly cooks dinner and talks about the berry pie they’re having for desert.
All this place is missing is a McDonald’s. Sixth floor maybe?
Turns out, Robyn’s also doing the live/work thing, only she’s not Kelly, so she lives like a hobbit in the showroom. You know what that means, she basically made Untrained Stephanie clean her apartment. Brilliant. But strange. “My lease was up,” she explains to us. Umm, okay, so you move into the closet at your work? I don’t know what the deal is here, the only thing I can think of is the opportunity for more camera time. Even if I was in this dire situation, hell would freeze over before I’d let someone film it.
Then everyone’s attention turns to the Chado Ralph Rucci show. And all roads lead to seating. Kelly says that the client is demanding, and then she explains couture to us. In other words, Juicy Couture is not couture. But back to seating – Kelly tells us that seating is everything, and where you’re seating says how much money and power you have. Rows one through three – you’re in the game. Anything else, you’re nothing.
Then you have Vogue who can’t sit next to Harpers Bazaar, cause they’re competitors and you have US Weekly who can’t sit next to celebrities because they’ll eavesdrop so you have to seat this one over here and this on the other side and holy crap Kelly, it’s not rocket science. The fate of the universe does not depend on the proximity in which a tabloid reporter is to a Z list starlet who wants them to write down everything they say anyway.
Wait. Grooming? I’m confused.
Then we cut to Emily on the phone with someone saying, “We’re not going to be, like, door bitches,” follow by a fake laugh. Ho, please, you live to be a door bitch. How else would you justify your existence and feel important? OH! And because we don’t call being a bitch a bad thing…your pink leopard print caftan with sweatband trim looks exactly like this one I didn’t buy at the mall in 1985. Keep laughing. You’re sooooo fabulous.
“You have to know the ins and outs of every single detail,” Ex-Assistant Stephanie tells us. This girl looks like Morticia with cheap lipstick. She also seems to be constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The longer she resists No, But Andrew and his treats, the worse her drug problem will eventually become when she finally gives in. She just keeps trying to convince us how complicated the list is.
And then disaster strikes! The Chado voicemail box is full! Robyn, who I recall telling Ex Assistant Steph that she was the only one who was doing the list, asks her what’s up. “I gave it to Stephanie V. to do,” she says defensively. Oh, shit. Well, did you TRAIN HER to check messages off the voicemail? Cause if not, then I definitely know what the problem is here.
Untrained Stephanie hears the exchange and looks around innocently. “It’s frustrating. I can’t do it myself,” Ex Assistant Stephanie declares to Robyn, who looks at her like she’s an idiot. “I’m one person. I can’t check voicemail, email and do my every day work,” she tells us firmly. Good grief. It’s a miracle she figures out how to get out bed in the morning. If the other Stephanie messed up, she tells us, it’s not her fault. That’s right, sweetie. It’s all so, so hard and it’s never your fault.
You’ve created a very cute little monster.
Kelly pretty much shoots her down and tells her that just because you delegate something doesn’t mean it’s getting done. This show is actually very educational. I wish some people I worked with would watch it. Untrained Stephanie gets yelled at again by Robyn, who I think kind of just doesn’t like her, and then gives us a big, eye-rolling speech about how she’s human and she makes mistakes. For heaven’s sake people, she wasn’t trained in voicemail pickup! What do you want from her?
Since keeping track of a list of names has proven too complex for the brightest minds at People’s Revolution, Kelly naturally passes it along to her assistant who she hired because he was a gay guy with bondage jewelry. “No. No, no, no, no, no,” Andrew, who’s got his hair slicked back like a vampire today, tells her. “I’m a new assistant. I don’t know about this stuff,” he says, already excusing himself for total failure.
And then we’re one day until the Chado show. And surprise, surprise, there’s a problem with the list. Robyn zeroes in on a name that shouldn’t be there. She checks with Andrew, who studies her computer screen intently for a minute, and then pleasantly informs here that he has no idea if the people who RSVP’d are on the list. “I’m a new assistant. I don’t know anything,” he says innocently. He’s still got mileage left on the whole “I’m new” thing before he has to move on to “I wasn’t trained.”
Ex Assistant Stephanie feels bad for Andrew, so she offers to help him with the job that she delegated away three people ago. She’s happy to help and train, but she can’t think for everybody, she says. Look, she’s very busy checking emails and blaming the other Stephanie for not doing her job for her – that’s just about all the thinking the poor girl can take. Cut her some slack, People’s Revolution, please.
Then Kelly visits with her daughter. She picks her up and throws her on the bed. We get it, Kelly. You’re just a fun loving Mom underneath it all. The kid’s cute.
Enjoy youth, cuz you’re gonna look like Uncle Fester in 20 years.
Back in the office, it’s back to the list. And once again…there are problems. Things are duplicated, there are doubles and Robyn doesn’t know what someone named Lyric is doing. “Who’s doing the list?” Kelly demands. Ex Assistant Stephanie and Andrew, Steph tells her. Then Steph insists that everything’s under control. If I were Kelly, that would probably push me over into full blown panic.
“Cry on me,” Andrew tells Steph as they huddle in a corner, surrounded by RSVPs. “I don’t want to cry,” she tells him. Doesn’t want to pop pills, doesn’t want to cry, some reality television character you are. “I mean…not actually…but emotionally,” Andrew clarifies.
I just feel retarded, she tells him. “I know, but that’s cause you’re not putting it into context,” he says soothingly. Um, thanks. What a friend. It’s a demanding client, Andrew shrugs. “I am going to have a nervous breakdown,” Stephanie declares.
You look like you’ve already had five nervous breakdowns. Take the drugs.
And then, it’s finally the day of the Chado show! Robyn’s assistant Andrew is passed out on his computer. Kelly tells us that the client is waiting for their list. Then she gets them on the phone, and asks them which seven people they want in the seven seats in the front row. Unfortunately, they seem to want 100 people there. Kelly explains that she’s not a magician, and then goes to make a stand about how she “can not have another seating scandal this season. I’m really sorry, but I can not.” Like, hey, if I could work it out for you I would, but we’re just too busy with the list.
And then she promises the client the list. At this point, Kelly’s daughter comes in and complains about her third row seat. Kelly, in typical Kelly fashion tells her to stop complaining because she’s seven. “Life’s not fair. Look around,” she snickers.
Finally, it’s the moment of truth. Time to print the final master list. And, technical problems. I can’t be too critical here, I call tech support when something takes more than ten seconds to load. It appears that some enterprising developer has developed a software program specifically for fashion show seating. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work.
The list won’t print. Stephanie, already halfway into the straightjacket, is now ready to admit defeat. “What do I do? What do I do?” she moans. You figure something out! Make a spreadsheet or something! What the hell is Kelly paying you for? But of course, instead of taking the initiative, Steph instead chooses to retreat to Kelly’s office and blame the whole thing on technology. In the time it took to walk to Kelly’s office and peddle your lame ass excuse for work…you could have had the first three rows typed, printed and off to the client, because those were the people they needed to know about anyway.
First episode, and already a cliffhanger! Will Ralph Rucci Chado ever find out who’s coming to his fashion show? Will the list ever print? Or will it be a seating free for all? The fate of fashion hangs in the balance, but I guess we’ll just have to sort it out next week. Ciao darlings until then…