Carry-on Baggage: Our Nonstop Flight
Page 15
My premonition of a life metamorphosis turned out to be a Dionne Warwick Psychic Friends Network prediction. That year I met Peter, moved to Atlanta and joined The Real Housewives of Atlanta. My bookers, agents and friends were baffled by my seemingly-sudden decision to leave New York. It was home to Leon, Noelle and I. Relocating, would make it inconvenient for Leon to continue building a relationship with his daughter. It didn’t make me feel good that I was taking his only child to another state. We had a mature conversation about my decision to move, and being the reasonable man he had always been, Leon gave me his blessing. As co-parents, I still appreciated and respected his input. His approval was important, but getting to Atlanta with Peter was just as vital.
Peter and Leon are very different men and could not be more of a night-and-day comparison. Leon and I had more of a spiritual connection, where we could finish each other’s sentences. He could always sense when something was off with me. Our focus was always on staying inspired and feeling good. Peter is my husband and the love of my life, not necessarily my soul mate. Our focus is on building a future and living good.
Peter and I are not ideally compatible, but we are ideal partners. Our outlooks radically differ, so we work well together and complement each other. Regardless of whether Peter’s concepts fail or succeed, he always knows how and when to put the next deal together. He has a shrewd brain that consistently figures out how to make money without working for someone else. I haven’t met many business people who share his ability to finagle out of a sticky situation. His Houdini precision has educated me in ways I probably could not have accessed if we hadn’t met.
My first lesson in his life class was witnessing him steer us though the unpredictable recession. It hit six months after I got to Atlanta, and it felt like somebody had pushed the pause button on my career. Retailers were making massive changes in their processes and cutting back. Exotic location shoots turned into fabricated studio sets. Lucrative catalog sessions slowed down, and five-day bookings were compressed into two. Most of the black girls were the first to go. Typically, when you look at a Macy’s, Talbots or Nordstrom catalog, the majority of the models on the pages are not women of color. So when cuts were mandated, there were even less of us working. My phone stopped ringing, and I was worried about getting work of any kind, much less modeling.
The decline in my workload had Peter and I even more excited about the potential of Uptown. We’d hoped my free time could be used helping to grow and manage the business. We saw the worst-case scenario as us having a beautiful restaurant that we could run as equals. We had done our research and realized that not only did people go out and drink during recessions, they drank more. We actually thought we could get through the downturn unscathed. When Uptown washed away, the tide of the recession swept away a lot of other stuff with it.
I tried to shift gears and turn my attention toward something based in the Atlanta fashion industry. I considered becoming a buyer or working on the corporate creative side at an upscale retailer like Neiman’s or Saks. I figured with my expertise, I could transition into the role of an art director or a figurehead who decided fashion trends. I just knew some savvy businessperson would give me a fair shot and see me as a win-win addition to their organization. The stark reality was the people in Atlanta who held those jobs had degrees in fashion, I didn’t.
In New York, you could get a gig off the street, strictly on talent. I was consistently hired based on the strength of my resume, rather than a distinction printed on a degree. In Georgia, being Cynthia Bailey and having twenty-five years of experience as a model meant nothing. I couldn’t muster the energy to resell myself to an industry that I’d worked in for most of my life. As you age, you’re less open to change. Career changes happen a lot easier for a twenty-something year old than it does a forty-something year old. If a decision maker couldn’t sit across from me and see the possibilities I represented, their business was not a place I wanted to be. Needless to say, the pursuit of my corporate retail endeavors was short-lived.
Before I could calculate my next move, the RHOA casting came about and the rest is history as we now know it. Even then, the artist in me only wanted to do what gave me goose bumps. Peter, who always looked at everything as a business deal, saw it differently. He planted the seed of how the opportunity was a conceivable business model. Once the show aired, our fame was a quick and weird realization. Usually people become famous when they star in a blockbuster movie or write a hit song, but on a reality show you’re famous for simply being on television. I had worked my whole life using my face, but Housewives made my mildly familiar face a household name.
Tons of opportunities came along with my newfound celebrity, some in the unlikeliest forms. On our second season reunion show, I wore a long wavy weave. The demand for the look was so popular that I was approached to start my own line of hair extensions.
Like any other accessory, I love using wigs and weaves to complete my look. In the beginning, Bravo found it problematic because no other housewife changed her look as frequently as I did. I think they wanted every housewife to have a signature look that was consistent and recognizable. They also wanted to ensure that our hair changes didn’t create character confusion for the viewers; especially in my case, since going from short hair to a longer weave completely altered my appearance.
I understood their logic, but the monotony of sporting the same ‘do didn’t work for me. I had worked in an alternate universe where changing your hairstyle was as common as a McDonald’s sitting on every street corner in America. Social media, editorial and fan responses to my styling choices quickly made believers out of the producers. Now, my hairstyles are like wardrobe changes and one of the elements most-loved about me. Andy Cohen, the host of our reunion shows, also became a fan of my ever-changing styles and began to look forward to what trend I would be rocking.
Of all the doors that opened as a result of the show, the biggest opportunity was the one I created for myself by opening The Bailey Agency. It stretched my aptitude and sensibilities as a businesswoman. As a model, my agents sought out my clients and managed every aspect of the deal for me. With my school, my fate rests completely in my own hands.
The best and most brilliant advice for diversifying my business came from my now-friend, Russell Simmons. He advised me to open a fashion school instead of a modeling agency. His advice was priceless. True model material (someone who has the potential to actually make money and have a career) is only about one in every fifty students. Atlanta is still a developing market and has very little local work. There are a lot of beautiful and unique faces floating about, but all the consistent work is out of Miami, Los Angeles and New York. Launching The Bailey Agency as a school allowed more talent to receive training and education, and the concept generated a lot more overall business.
Originally, I thought we’d be catering to teenagers. I wasn’t focused on little kids, but children have grown to represent a big part of our business. Having a school versus an agency accomplishes my main goal of not turning anyone away who has a heart geared toward fashion. We have created many avenues and programs to motivate and inspire every individual that crosses our threshold.
Most people come with the hopes of becoming a high-fashion model, but because they may not meet a size or height requirement, they often end up entering a pageant or taking acting classes. As long as a person’s endeavors mildly relate to fashion or entertainment, The Bailey Agency has the means to cultivate them. Launching a school would’ve probably been a natural transition for me at some point in my life, but being on the show motivated me to do it quicker.
Our brand and impact continue to grow with the success of the Miss Renaissance Pageant, The Cynthia Bailey Model Search and the upcoming release of my Cynthia Bailey doll. I am living my life’s dreams while nurturing the aspirations of so many others. In a couple of years I’ll pinch myself, but right now, I’m just not ready to wake up.
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br /> Peter’s City Pair
My parents were two people in the world who had my back no matter how many times life threw a dagger my way. My move to Georgia could not have been timed more perfectly. My dad underwent triple bypass surgery, and my brother thought it was a good idea that I come to Atlanta and help care for him. Even as he suffered through his own healing, my dad cared enough to soothe the emotional wounds left open from my recent breakup. Being around and talking to him was like free therapy. He empathized over how much I missed my young son. I already had four kids who didn’t live with me, and I didn’t want Bryce to be another. If I’d had any idea that his mom and I weren’t built to last, I would never have had a child with her.
I had very little time to lick my wounds in Atlanta. My first priority was to find a new spot to do my thing. My brother Earl kept telling me that Atlanta needed something fresh and gave me the idea for Uptown. I only had $60,000 (from my venture in Toronto) and every dime needed to be used wisely. I had an aggressive goal to raise more capital, so not long after hitting Georgia, I did another “How Can I Be Down” conference. This time, the event was in Atlanta and generated around $70,000. It was everything I needed to feel whole again. I used the money earned from both conferences, along with another $20,000 my dad fronted, and opened Uptown.
The first time I took money from Cynthia was a few months before she moved to Atlanta. She gave me $10,000 and we both agreed it was a contribution to our new life. We thought Uptown would be a dream come true, but it turned out to be a nightmare. When RHOA came about, I knew it could be a catalyst for something greater. Our finances caved in right as we began filming, but we still didn’t pour shit over sugar. We never lied, used other people’s cars or fronted like we had two or three homes. We just showed what was ours. Even though it was crazy as fuck the first year, I knew Housewives would be a means to an end.
When you’re young and fall into a hole, you have enough energy and muscle to climb out. When you’re older, you’re not as fit and energetic to pull yourself up. Cynthia and I used the show to our advantage and made it work for us. I took about 10 percent of our second season earnings to create my next move. Once bar ONE was up and running, my sole focus was to grow our base and make sure we never returned to those rocky waters. I used another portion of the money to teach my wife The Art of the Hustle.
The Bailey Agency did $10,000 in its first month of business, and its overhead was only 20 percent of that. Just a year before, social media haters were telling Cynthia to leave me because I was abusive, broke and angry. It wore her down, but it made me stronger. In June of 2010, I was sitting at home doing nothing. Six months later, bar ONE was poppin’ and The Bailey Agency was kicking ass. Cynthia made the right choice in creating a union with me. I didn’t feed her fish and rice on a silver platter, but I taught her how to use a fishing pole. If I go tomorrow, she’s learned how to go out and sink that line to catch food for herself and Noelle.
As for my future ambitions, I will continue to expand the bar ONE brand. I have aligned with a partner to build two, 3,500-square-foot venues (bar ONE and Sports ONE) in Charlotte, North Carolina. I’m also focusing on getting my piece of the billion-dollar coffee empire, through my newly launched Peter’s Brew. A young friend who owns Friday’s Coffee, based out of Atlanta, introduced me to a line of Jamaican rum coffee. He saw my personality and West Indian roots as a perfect match and talked me into getting into the business.
I’m even sticking my neck into the awards show arena. Regular, everyday people love reality TV stars, but Hollywood doesn’t embrace them. NeNe is one of the few stars to cross over into scripted television. But in today’s programming, reality shows are what pay the bills and bring in ratings for a lot of networks. Hollywood finally got the memo that some reality stars are just as big and influential as silver screen celebrities. We have huge social media followings and are seen weekly by millions. The corporate blue suits see us as thieves coming in to steal their jewels. They can’t wait for the shit to be over!
Reality television is strong because it costs less to produce and earns more money. It’s a no-brainer. Shows like ours had 3.8M viewers in its first run, while HBO’s, Girls and Martin Scorsese’s Boardwalk Empire have garnered much less; all at a cost of around two million dollars an episode. I would bet anything that a Housewives episode can be produced for a quarter of that cost.
Reality personalities also make a lot of money off camera. They’ll take a $10,000 payday to walk through a club or lend their name to an event for $5,000. We draw crowds and increase alcohol sales, because people like our realness and find us approachable. Most actors’ pants are too stuck up in their butt cracks to host club gigs.
It’s a safe guess to say that none of us will ever get an Emmy or Oscar for our contributions to television. In response, I came up with the idea of The Unscripted Reality TV Awards. It will be an invitation-only show, requesting the presence of every reality star on the planet – from Duck Dynasty and Honey Boo Boo to everybody across the Housewives franchise. The first year might be a loss, but it only takes one solid run for every Tom, Dick and Harry to want to jump aboard. No one wants to be on a train that’s standing still, but the minute it leaves the station, everybody wishes they would have hopped on.
At our ages, there’s not a day that passes that Cynthia and I don’t talk about creating financial security for our future. We know that ten years from now, whatever we have, may be all we will ever have. So we will continue to stockpile as much as possible with respect to our future. We grind to the point of exhaustion. It’s a chance of a lifetime that we both know will come and go quickly. The time is now to do and be all that we ever imagined. When it’s all a wrap, nobody will be able to say we didn’t beat our hustle to a pulp. Real talk!
CHAPTER VIII
Connecting Flights
Our Blended Family
Peter’s Concourse
It’s intimidating for a woman to hear that a man has multiple kids, so over the years I’ve developed a super cocky strategy that kills the issue off the top. Whenever I’m asked if I have children, I always respond, “Of course I do! I’m a forty-five-year-old man, why wouldn’t I? I have five beautiful kids.” The delivery is so arrogant, when women hear it, they can’t help but to step up or step off. However, after they learn my five kids are spread over four different mothers, they go in hard like a precinct shakedown for a murder-one charge. I broke it down for Cynthia before she had a chance to put the handcuffs on me.
My two oldest children are products of my first marriage – Porsche is my firstborn, then Peter Jr. My third child is Blaze, Isaiah is the fourth and my youngest is Bryce. Blaze, Isaiah and Bryce have different mothers. When I ran the drill with Cynthia, her facial expression never changed. Her poker face was solid.
Porsche and Peter Jr. came at a time when I was young, dumb and full of it – still trying to figure out my life. I was wild and not the most loyal person. After separating from my first wife, I met Blaze’s mom in 1992 and fell for her quick. We had Blaze in ’94, and our unfortunate break up happened the following year. I moved back to Miami to open my new restaurant, Savannah, while she and Blaze stayed in New York.
Savannah was an urban hang suite for the Who’s Who of Miami. Oprah, Stedman and Gayle even spent New Year’s Eve one year in our dining room. One of my fondest memories was hosting the Miami Heat’s party for one of their conference championship wins. Savannah was known as a South Beach hot spot and a magnet for attracting celebrity beauties. And never being one to take sand to the beach, I was dating a string of starlets and models. I was going through them faster than a roll of single-ply toilet paper.
I had a little girl that I loved and wanted to be there for, but I would have lost so many opportunities being back in New York with Blaze. From the streets to the boardroom – I was making a lot of money in Florida. My success made me obnoxious, and I started feeling myself a little too much
. Blaze’s mom wanted a stable commitment with me, but my head wasn’t in a place to maintain a healthy relationship. Settling down was nowhere in my immediate plans. I was only thinking about myself and couldn’t muster the maturity to put my daughter’s (or her mother’s) needs before my own.
I eventually sold Savannah and left South Beach in 1998 to run the West Coast division of The Source magazine. Around the same time, I’d broken up with a Hollywood “it” girl I was dating. I wanted to prove to her and anyone else who doubted me that I could make it out in L.A. I served as executive producer of the most recognized show UPN had ever aired, The Source Awards. After I successfully made my mark, I was ready to get the hell out of there. I didn’t like the people and couldn’t board a damn plane fast enough.
Just before I left L.A., I encouraged Blaze’s mom to relocate there. We still were not together, but I maintained constant communication with her since Blaze was my youngest child at the time. California had the contacts she needed to develop a network and market herself as a cinematography agent. I did everything I could do to contribute to her success, and she was open to my input. She turned out to be a little less open to hearing the news that I’d had a one-night stand shortly before her move.
Eight months later, that one night of pleasure called me to say she was about to give birth to a lifetime of reminders. We had slept together, lost contact and I moved back to Miami. We’d never even gone to dinner or a movie! When I got the call, it was mad disturbing. I was riding in a cab with Vivian Scott Chew, answered the phone and the voice on the other side said, “Peter, I’m calling to let you know I’m pregnant.” I said, “Congratulations. Who the fuck is this?”
When I realized who she was, I still couldn’t understand why she was calling me to announce her pregnancy. I hadn’t seen her in almost a year. Then the answer to my question came. She told me the baby was possibly mine. My first thought was that she was trying to hit me up for money. Vivian could hear the conversation and motioned for me to get off the phone. I told her I needed a moment, but I would call her back. Viv asked if I had sex with her. I confirmed that we got busy, but told Viv we had used a condom. At the same time, everything happened on one of those nights I was so wasted, that I would have spelled my first name P.E.T.A.