Burgeoning advice-rap guru Jay-Z spent the early part of the week parading famous people onstage at Yankee Stadium; last night, he relaxed by throwing a Fashion Week party at Provocateur. The Observer was there, and their report is kind of amazing.
Seriously, try and pick the most bonkers personal interaction out of this thing. Was it with the dude from Entourage?
“What you got there, a little hobby or something?” Jay-Z asked Mr. Grenier. Mr. Grenier smiled big. “You have a great night, man,” the rapper added.
“You too” said Mr. Grenier. “Good Luck. I know you don’t need it. Confidence! You’ve got it.”
Jay-Z looked at him through his sunglasses. “I was going to say the same thing to you,” he said. He turned away and strolled into the room with the mannequins.
A slightly pushy photographer?
A photographer anxiously asked him to stand in front of the display. “Don’t move me around, big man,” Jay-Z said quietly, his hands in the pockets of a black Dior suit. “I like to do it naturally,” he said. He leaned against a bar at the front of the room.
Whoever was being addressed when he deployed this extraordinarily bizarre water-on-my-fucking-floor metaphor?
He said he was glad that his rap colleagues were showing interest in high fashion instead of basketball jerseys. “Sometimes when you turn the faucet on and it overflows onto your floor, you should turn it off,” he said. He laughed deeply. “It’s like common sense. The water! It’s getting on my fuckin’ floor!”
A freakishly big-footed reporter?
His shoes had shiny black trim and braided leather laces. What did it feel like to wear shoes such as these, we wondered.
“They’re very…” Jay-Z removed one of his shoes and bent the sole to show us how flexible it was. He was wearing dark socks covered in tiny paislies. “Would you like to try them on?” he asked The Observer. “What size you wear?” Eleven and a half. “Alright, well, you’re not going to bust these open,” he said and slipped the loafer back onto his foot.
Tough call here, but the super-creepy pickup line wins it:
Jay-Z put his glass down and made some small talk with a female friend before leaving the room. “I like your hair,” he said. “It’s like baby hair.”
If this turns into a new catch phrase, I’m getting the hell out of town.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on September 16, 2010