I haggled an unpaid internship of an assistant stylist at Interscope, and it helped with my momma being an Executive within the A&R team but she was always someone who made me earn my position. My first test role was working for a new artist from Atlanta, sub-signed to Dreamville, and very much a rapper. I was 18, and wasn't used to styling men for the most part, but did what I always did my best, and that hard work and hustle always seemed to pay off.
Talked to him about his style, what he hates, fits of clothes, the actual cut, what he wanted to feel like when he put that shit on, and also, luckily as a fan, I was often early to hear music so I could help with conceptualising looks, and pieces with song lyrics and album themes. An avid spoiled brat, shopping it up since I was a lil shorty so, I knew where to get exclusives, kept a homie in luxury retail and the streets knew a little about me, too. Never really had a man before then, just a couple of friends I let think they would one day fuck, but they were both for the set, and in Compton most was banging blood so didn't chase when they got the head.
It was always just the two of us, momma and me, and she worked most of the time so I was online most of the time. Meeting people all over the world, fans of my creativity, sexiness, as I was spending most of my time posting makeup looks, outfits, and learning how to improve, manufacture and make clothes. I spent my childhood mastering design sketches and ideas, colours, shades and tonality of the skin verus the fabric. Trying on my mama shit made me feel like a million dollars, so I knew dressing people was a way go boost their confidence. I even helped her, pick outfits for meetings with the boards, that end up in a serious of promotions and perks she brought home and taught me to go and get for myself.
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She told me I should start college and study fashion, or creative management and I was thinking about it, but I was not sure I could deal with the whole school situation again. I was introverted, well shy, and still getting over the fact I wasn't the type of girl I once thought I was. Learning how to forgive myself, my carnal instincts at times, as we moved out the hood but still had that shit in us. My momma was disappointed in me for that, but she loved me so much and never wanted to make it so I didn't feel safe to be myself. The only child, of an only child, so she was more like a big sister I respected without question.
Confessed I had been seeing a guy from the hood when I was 13, and she hustled to get me out of his reach within a year. Told me grown men shouldn't be interested in little girls, and he was about 20 so, if she wanted him to, he would go to jail. His gang ties made moving the best option, when he would pop up at the crib, to threaten her and intimidate me, asking to talk to me she had enough and told me to never invite danger to the house again, and it changed me.
Making mistakes with men too old to be mine, but I always found myself disappointed and disgusted by guys my own age, their daddies and uncles more my speed and their means more my type of time too. My mama taught me that, too. Never let a man call you his woman when he ain't got you a house, car or something you can use to become better by yourself. If you do, you're just his bitch and he'll probably give you a baby and bitches to beef with.
