Diddy showed up at Madonna’s Malawi Gucci event last night and in the wake of so many super elite arrivals, no one really cared. Poor Diddy. Or Sean.
It has to be the constant name changes – makes for bad luck. After all, if you can’t even hang on to a name, if you can’t even own your identity, why would your career be any more stable?
And this is why Diddy has suddenly become very much a B list player, a subtle difference but a palpable one nonetheless. His parties are no longer the must-attend parties on any given weekend, in St Tropez during the summer, he was treated only a step up from mega wealthy eurotrash and the likes of Tara Reid (damn that hurts), and finally, the ultimate mark of Diddy’s downgrade – his image is used to sell fragrance at Dillard’s. Dillard’s!!!
How can anything called Dillard’s be anything close to cool? Say it out loud….
We were trapped once in a Dillard’s, my friend Erin and I. In San Antonio for a conference, we tried to walk through Dillard’s to get to the mall and couldn’t find our way out. Suddenly we were surrounded by polyester and old ladies with wigs and brothers who married their sisters and made babies.
Then last week in Arizona, en route to one of the parties, a Dillard’s promotional truck drives by and look whose face is staring at you from the side…
Seriously…Diddy is hurtin’. And desperate. Like the department store equivalent of going from major motion pictures to hosting a game show. Shame.