Yachts and books

My efforts at a blog spawned with some form of consistency have failed miserably, so rather than load myself with the sense of failure which accompanies missed deadlines, I have decided to blog only when I feel passionate enough about something to want to share the tale.

If I’m correct then ‘29’ was the last blog I wrote, where I lamented on what a f**king hard year 2009 turned out to be, and how basically it was all the fault of the stars (in the sky as opposed to my clients – though they often add to the strain). Now 30, I can happily say the stars are no longer messing with my chi, and I’m happily ensconced in my third decade, the baby is off to secondary school following 100% in her SATS (go mama!) and I have discovered a wonderful new book and a brand new ‘inner fulfilment for outer success’ mind-set.

Me with the delectable Kelly Rowland on the red carpet at the premiere of the new Twilight movie

I could sit here and write about my escapade on a yacht last weekend and Jagermeister shots, the various movie premiers I have frequented in the last few weeks or my 3-week stint at the Mondrian in Los Angeles as a result of the ash cloud. ‘catastrophe’ However that has passed, so I’ll just stick a few photos of my golden times on the blog to fill in the gaps, and turn my attention to writing about my discovery.

Lunch looked good but I couldn't stomach sushi with my hangover from hell...

The owners of Nikki Beach and us on the aptly named 'Knot Mine' yacht!

I have a habit of being one of the last to know, however I am confident I am not actually the last, and for that reason I will share my finding of The Outliers.

My latest fave book

Sitting on a plane back from the Guinness Music Festival in Dublin with my dear friend Dazzle Dalmeda, we poured over a copy of Oprah Magazine and found her interview with Jay Z and his recommended reading list. The Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell was on my bedside table days later thanks to Hova (he didn’t buy it for me he just recommended it) and it has had a profound effect .

New York Times columnist and author extraordinaire Gladwell

The acclaimed bestselling author and New York Times columnist Gladwell, wrote the outliers in an effort to explain why some people achieve so much more than others. I’m talking the Bill Gates, and Tiger Woods of our world. Gladwell looks at everyone from rock stars to professional athletes, software billionaires to scientific geniuses, to show that the story of success is far more surprising than we could have ever imagined. The sleeve promised to “change the way you think about your own life story” and boy did it do that. As a woman who is blessed to be occasionally labelled ‘inspirational’ for shifting my own personal life story from one of mediocrity and under achievement to this blessed journey I now find myself on, I was gripped. There is nothing special about me. Reasonably smart but driven. Impulsive yet hardworking. Erratic, dramatic and several other adjectives ending in ic, Outliers left my mind open and understanding how my pillar of the community Jamaican grandparents meeting in Cuba and falling in love, then sending my dad to England to keep him away from his “undesirable Kingston” sweetheart, all played a part in why I, and not the next media student, landed a job at every media company I interned for. How my parent’s shaky and tumultuous marriage lead to me lunching with the former Prime Minister at No.10. And how my dad working seven days a week as a mini-cab driver even on Christmas day, meant that when he kicked me out post pregnancy, swimming rather than sinking was an inbuilt reaction.

I’ve always known that my daughter was a blessing, and a huge part of why I have awards on my mantel, but Outliers has made me recognise just how every single one of my obstacles was actually a blessing with the wrong label on;

“Outliers are those who have been given opportunities –and who have had the presence and strength of mind to seize them. “ Malcolm Gladwell.

In case that sounds self-congratulatory, I hasten to add that this awe-inspiring piece of writing goes on to explain that Outliers are therefore far from extraordinary, just people who have capitalised on a series of opportunities and good luck handed down by our forefathers. Down to the colour of my skin, the fact my mother was a model, my father a rebel, my job in the hairdressers, and a chance meeting with publicist supremo Connie Filippello in the salon, a counsellor who bothered to say “go back to college,” a university tutor who took a shining to me and Max Clifford needing an intern to cover a sick member of staff – all incidents which had several of them not occurred, there is nothing to suggest I wouldn’t be standing somewhere very different. This book has sparked a new desire to get to know myself better, as surely once you understand yourself a little better you are on a path of improvement.

So thanks to Malcolm, who interestingly also has a Grandmother from St. Elizabeth Jamaica, and Jigga and I guess even Oprah for doing the interview, I have decided to cast aside my focus on grand ambitions and instead shift my gaze on to being a better human being full stop. As that ever-telling gut instinct suggests, inner fulfilment ultimately can only lead to outer success.

Jessica Huie

Mons and I had fantastic fun at Universal studios

My friend Pin-up beauty and actress Nia Long and I with out children, cycling to Venice Beach

Kelly Rowland backstage before her appearance performing 'Commander' on Graham Norton's show.

Jay Z on stage in Birmingham. Bumped into Drake...and randomly Shola Ama backstage

Turning 29!

Hi there,

It was Mica Paris who warned me over cocktails at E&O one evening, that the year preceding my 30th birthday was going to be “hellish” thanks to the Saturn return –news to me. According to Astrology “Time, responsibility, age, and reality, are all associated with one planet in astrology and that planet is Saturn. The transit of Saturn around the birth chart is a very reliable indicator of where we are in our maturation process because it completes a cycle every 29-and-a-half years, splitting our lives into three stages of growth: childhood, adulthood, and the elder years. With each cycle building upon what was learned in the previous one.” I should have heeded Mica’s words and mentally armed myself for possibly the most challenging year ever bar 98, when I was spotty and pregnant and could only fit into an Adidas tracksuit and one pair of elasticated jeans.

If you’re 29 then brace yourself for warrior mode right now, as there is something about approaching a new decade that will have you come over all reflective and confused, and if you’re not careful, mourning missed opportunities, overanalyzing perceived material failures.

Jessica Huie: The Entrepreneur

 

So here I am, 29 years old and with a pretty amazing career which has transformed my life beyond recognition. Materially I can’t complain, and if I do ever worry about cash, I only have to look at my shoe collection or Virgin air miles to see where my wonger went. We’ve come along way since the days I used to write an approximate value of each item (tomatoes £1.30) on my Sainsburys shopping list so I could be sure I had enough money to pay for it, and professionally, this year has been another amazing one with the launch of JH Public Relations leaving me reeling in pride.

Outwardly I’m good on paper, yet internally 29 forced me to stop running, take stock and finally connect with the Jessica I’ve been working too hard to take care of, or even acknowledge. Yes 29 challenged the thought processes. But then after the pain, 29 has brought me peace, contentment and a self-love which has nothing to do with the awards on my mantel, the clients on my roster, or even my butt after a serious training session at Legs, bums and tums. Of course my journey has only just begun, but now I’m here, it’s a one-way road and turning back is not an option. Ironically the ‘hell’ has brought me heaven, and to quote Conversations with God, which is one of several books which have enlightened me recently;

Conversations with God

 

“Know that what you do in the time of your greatest trial can be your greatest triumph. For the experience you create is a statement of who you are – and who you want to be.” And so this year I made the decision to spring clean my soul, and as I clear out the crap, the more space I create for all of the wondrous items I haven’t yet purchased. A true understanding of the power of our thoughts and the experiences they manifest, has hit home, and that knowledge has changed my life. Phew, the deep bit’s over!

Outside of my spiritual rollercoaster, I have also found time to do some work. I crammed interviews with Alexandra Burke, whose number 1 with ‘Bad Boys’ alongside Florida was no surprise. How sexy is that girl? 29 is struggling to digest the fact I have almost a decade on her, Jessica is of course totally fine with it.

Flo-rida actually chatted me up one evening outside of my house. My girlfriends and I were on our way out for dinner in Portobello and the rapper was like “Can I come with you and just hang out?” The girls looked tempted but from the back of my car a disgruntled Monet’s “Uggh, Come on Mummy” meant Flo-rida was out of luck.

I had the pleasure of interviewing Leona Lewis just days before the madman in Waterstone’s thumped her-poor thing. She exudes stardom now. Gone is the shy giggling and uncertain body language. Talented, beautiful and British, I love the quality of the music which is pouring out of the UK right now.

The Beautiful Alexandra!

 

I recently spent a weekend in Dublin with my mate Jodie Dalmeda, Head of Media and artist management for Virgin Unite. Estelle who’s an Ambassador for Virgin Unite, was performing at the Guinness 250th anniversary Festival as was Kelly Rowland, so we flew over for the fun. Jodie looks just like a mixed race (young) Lauren Hutton, she’s gorgeous inside and out and teaches me about Angels and bikram yoga and stuff. She’s like the Mr. Miyagi of Kensal Rise. When we did the bar and pub circuit that evening we were the toast of the Irish town and the men were just so gentlemanly and appreciative that we both left with inflated egos. Ladies, Dublin is the place if you’re in need of a little boost!

Me, Kelly Rowland, Jaren and my friend Jodie!

 

Saw my boy Bashy in Markus the Sadist at the Bloomsbury Theatre. A Jonzi D Production, the script, acting and casting were perfect, and while the language left me wincing in parental pain as Monet sat beside me, the show was brilliant and further evidence that Bashy is a 360 performer and one of the UK’s most talented artists. My best friend Nana got married to her sweetheart and university love Russell. They had a Ghanaian traditional ceremony at her mother’s house and it was beautiful. I have never seen Nans radiate such beauty and happiness and it was all a bit surreal. Sitting in her mother’s living room I was transported back to fifteen years ago, when we’d be hunched in front of a mirror, pasting our frazzled hair to our foreheads and prizing coloured contact lenses on to our eyeballs in preparation for ‘Telepathy’ that night. On most of those occasions our parents discovered we weren’t watching a PG movie and generally the punishments included groundation, and once nana had to weed the front yard in 80 degree heat. Watching my best mate get married was emotional, and final confirmation that we are now grown ups. She’s a wife. I am a mother and we will soon be thirty. But I’m not sweating it. 29 has taught me enough lessons to ensure that 30 will be the new 20 and next year is going to be incredible.

Nana & Russell's traditional Ghanian wedding

 

More on the Saturn return see http://www.skygrooves.com/articles/saturn-return.html

Until next time

Jess

Jamaica Land We Love

Exhale; I don’t know where to start. It has been a packed few weeks. I must start to blog weekly, as cramming in the events of the past few weeks is near impossible. So, I’ll simply pluck the most poignant highs and lows and seek to entertain (or vent at the very least.)

I’ve learnt lots about myself recently thanks to my career, most importantly the fact that I won’t compromise my ethics for any amount of money. That despite having spent 7 years working for Max Clifford, I’m still sometimes as green as a pea, and that it aint personal, it’s BUSINESS.Integrity has got me this far and I’m sticking with it all the way.

So, I found myself handling PR for Samuel L Jackson’s ‘Shooting Stars in Desert Nights’ charity event, which took place at London’s Hurlingham Club. It was an experience, not helped by the tube strike. We had to send a fleet of taxis to collect the A Listers who’d flown in from Hollywood, to bring them to the bash.

Me and Samuel L Jackson

The very next morning signaled my flight to Jamaica, along with a sleep deprived boyfriend and talkative daughter (still elated at the idea that she got to miss school for mummy’s business trip). It was of course business. Kelly Rowland who is currently riding high with her no.1 spot in the UK singles charts with her David Guetta collaboration ‘When Love Takes Over’ had been booked to perform at Caribbean Fashion Week, and I also had my Colorblind Cards assistant Elisha in tow, hosting a stall at the event.

Kelly wow’s the crowd at Caribbean Fashion Week!

The plan was to spend the first few days in Kingston working (at a yardie pace) before relocating to Ocho Rios for a break of the most relaxed kind with my loved ones. It started well, Kelly did her thing and delighted the islanders on stage. Then we dragged her to the local club where she attempted to get into the spirit, before her early morning flight which meant professionalism prevailed (hers not mine.) So that left me, my man, Nia Long and her friend, who were in town for Fashion week. Nia had heard of a house party going on up in the hills somewhere, so Hennessey in hand we made an exit (not driving of course) to relocate.

Nia, Me and Kelly!

As we neared the house party after much laughter and 30 mins on the road, it began to strike us that there weren’t many ladies at this gig. Undeterred and excited by the tracks which were pumping from the system, we jumped out and prepared to get our groove on- Jamaican style. A word in Nia’s ear by the host and she announced “Guys this is a gay party but I’m totally fine with it!” Of course I was fine too, and started making my way in, as I listened to the sounds of Neyo in the background. Alas it wasn’t to be. Never have I seen such a look of fear crossed with vulnerability crossed with confusion on my man’s face, we left and I went to sleep laughing and woke up in even more intense stitches- classic. The next day I got to express my inner twelve year old once again on the catwalk while Monet shouted “GO MUMMY” as I strutted.

In Kingston the sun seemed determined to hide behind a cloud. But it was all good as after accompanying the stunning Brit model (and star of the new M&S campaign) Natalie Suliman to a photoshoot at Strawberry Hill hotel) my family and I made the 2.5 hour road journey to Ocho Rios. Excited by the website images of our suite which backed on to the beach, visions of infinity pools to die for, the smell of jerk chicken wafting through the air and the chilled exclusive vibe, (not ganja induced.) For a traveler unused to the hilly roads of Jamaica the journey may have seemed treacherous but we knew the wonders in store for us so took it with a smile and coconut water.

Me and Natalie Suliman

The Stunning Natalie Suliman

And then we arrived.

Out of respect for the General manager and for the tourist trade in Jamaica I wont name and shame. And I totally get that if hot dogs and an all-inclusive vibe is your thing, this place may have seemed inviting. But faced with swarms of American tourists clad in plastic ‘All Inclusive’ armbands dancing to ‘One Love’ as they queued for another burger and beer on ‘the house’, my stomach churned in horror. We were lead to our room by an over zealous member of staff quoting more clichés than can be found in that ‘How to speak Jamaican’ handbook and I was like “cut the crap I’m from St. Elizabeth” The door opened and I recoiled in horror. This was NOT the room on the website. Hell this was not the hotel on the website.

A musty smell of tourists gone by, and a TV that would have been state of the art last century took pride of place. A plastic white plate screamed ‘welcome home’ in an unrecognizable pink paste on the dresser. I tried the balcony, now having palpitations at the thought of being stuck here for the duration of our trip. I turned right, Americans in the plastic bands smiled ‘one love’ seeming to taunt me in my desperation, I looked left, dreadlocked hats and Shaggy impersonators everywhere (ok that bit’s an exaggeration).

And then the diva came out. “Don’t even unpack!” I screamed at my man, who was sweetly whispering “its ok baby,” while my daughter, nose in the air, arms crossed in defiance, was firmly on mummy’s side. I made a call to my Jamaican tourist board contact and chastised him at his choice of hotel. He said sit tight and apologized that he hadn’t personally seen this hotel. Just when I was at the point of combusting and driving my family half way back across the island to a more suitable place to rest our head (see Round Hill or Ritz Carlton in Montego Bay for cornmeal porridge to die for) the phone rings and its Nia, Hollywood actress and drop dead gorgeous mumma by day, anti 3 star hotel squad by night. It was too much; I collapsed in tears at our circumstance as my perplexed boyfriend and amused offspring looked on in entertainment. Nia hooked us up and ten minutes later we were in a taxi on our way to Royal Plantation where at Nia’s request, the owner had waived the ‘No Kids’ rule and invited us to stay in a villa complete with private pool and Jason the Butler!

This was more like it!

We arrived and my new pal Shawn bid us a cliché free welcome before ushering us through my new favourite Jamaican hotel. Not an all-inclusive band in sight, just heaven on earth and the only fellow co habitors were the peacocks in our lush garden that kept Anthony Hopkins company when he last stayed there. Just like that, in a quarter of an hour, our holiday was back on track. After making full use of the pool by moonlight we breakfasted with Nia and pal before taking to the mystic mountain for bobsled fun. The rest of our stay was simply wonderful. We dined with the General manager Peter. Peter also introduced us to his amazing art collection which included several pieces by my famous Jamaican cousin Albert Huie, and asked for our help in putting on a Celebrity weekend in September (yup damn, I’m just gonna have to go back again). So many beautiful memories.

Me, Nia and my lovely family!

I think I fell in love all over again, with Jamaica, with my man, and spent some quality time with my little girl. I came home Nia Long’s new International Publicist, a darker shade of brown and a kitchen stocked with Appleton’s finest.

Jamaica Land we love yes indeed!

Jessie From The Block

xxx

New York!

So, my 48 hour stint in New York got off to a less than glamorous start. I arrived at my cousin Julia’s Brooklyn apartment to find she wasn’t yet home from work. I spent 45 minutes curled up on my case and examining the abuse the ankle deep snow had already subjected on my Sergio Rossi boots. She finally arrived home from her new role as Editor of Jamrock magazine, and we barely caught up before I was fast asleep on the sofa bed.

“I’ve Succumbed”

Hello Everyone!

I’ve succumbed. I’ve fought the rise of cyber space for too long and have finally recognized the need to embrace life online. So here it is Jessica Huie’s blog. It’s been an amazing year. No make that a fabulous decade, but it’s been no joy ride. So I’m going to briefly take it back before whizzing into the present.

My career started as a fluke. I was a junior working in a hairdresser on Westbourne Grove, London. Disillusioned with life and lacking aspiration and purpose I’d decided that cleaning skirting boards for a horrid Greek boss called Irkan, was bearable, but only because it enabled me to buy gaudy Moschino jeans (with the label left attached) at the end of each month.