The layperson’s first brush with everyday perfection came in the ’90s when the daughters of New York City’s richest power players decided to make their life consumable to the average person. Rather than hiding inside of mansions like the millionaires of yore, these women—such as Paris Hilton, Casey Johnson, and Olivia Palermo—were seen both at Red Carpet Events and blackout drunk at nightclubs. In either place, they were flaunting their fashion and wealth in ways that made for incredible tabloid fodder.

Of course, not just anyone could turn into a real life Hilton sister—it took money, yes, but most of all it took connections. Wealthy young women (and their upper middle class counterparts who would rather put their family in debt than risk being on the outskirts of the social scene) hired Publicists to act as their liaisons into the world of celebrity. The publicists, such as Lara Shriftman, were the same age as their socialite counterparts, and frequently equally as beautiful and well connected. 

When you frequently associate with the rich and famous, you learn their secrets well enough to mimic them. As detailed in the 1998 New York Magazine article, “Welcome to the Dollhouse”, Shriftman used this knowledge to launch an experiment. She attempted to transform 25-year-old sales girl Alice Larkin into the next “It girl” by taking Larkin with her to red carpet events and fundraisers. And it worked. With the help of Liz Cohen, one of Shriftman’s socialite clients, Larkin transformed from a layperson into someone everyone wanted to be. While her success was not exceptionally long lasting, the blueprint had been laid.

Now that a path was established, other publicists were able to do the same thing, not just for clients but for themselves. These women already had the connections to celebrity and the knowledge of exactly what to wear and which events to attend—all that was left was for them to actually do it. These famous publicists, including Shriftman, Elizabeth Harrison and Lizzie Grubman, were around the socialite scene so often while working for clients that they became mini celebrities themselves.

These “celebrities” were, of course, curating a precise image. Tabloids and gossip sites such as Gawker and Social Rank were analyzing each and every action a socialite took. Given that everyone either was a publicist or had a publicist, the bar for perfection was incredibly high. Shriftman and her ilk knew how to play to the tabloids, and these women’s deftness at navigating public appearances laid the groundwork for how we think of celebrity today. 

Of course, not everyone was having positive experiences at this time. Real Housewives of New York star and ’90s NYC socialite Tinsley Mortimer (who, in fact, was let go by her publicist at one point) has been open about the toll the tabloids took on her. She intended to be a socialite, but she didn’t anticipate the hatred that she would receive. Her goal was to invest in charities and do meaningful work, but it seemed like nobody on the outside noticed that.

In many ways, we’ve come full circle. Billboard recently published an article entitled “Taylor Swift and Beyoncé Are So Big, Even Their Publicists Have Fans”. Within the relatively short fluff piece, they provide evidence for this claim in the form of Tweets sent out by adoring members of the fandom. Yvette Noel-Schure (Beyoncé’s publicist) is lauded for being a “humble soul”, a “wonderful person”, and exuding “love and grace”. Tree Paine (Swift’s publicist) is said to be a “style icon” and a “queen”. 

What separates this current wave of famous publicists from the one at the end of the ’90s is that these women are famous purely for their connection to the celebrity whose image they help to uphold. As a result, it’s often their talent that gets noticed first. A viral image of Swift talking to Paine in her office is often paired with captions such as “No, you cannot play [insert surprise song here] right after [insert something suspicious that happened in the taylor universe]”. When Beyoncé appeared on the cover of Vogue, fans were quick to point out that it was Noel-Schure who secured this prestigious position for her client. 

As a society, we’ve hit the point of internet literacy and cultural awareness that we can tell when publicists are doing their jobs. People celebrate Paine and Noel-Schure for their talent at manipulating the narrative around their respective celebrity clients. When a fawning article comes out about either woman in a major publication, fans are quick to speculate on just how true it is, given the fact that it likely required publicist approval prior to hitting the shelves. 

We know that actual PR agents are masters at public relations. So where does that leave us when it comes to Instagram influencers and social media debutantes? These people are undoubtedly following the same footprint that Harrison, Shritman and Mortimer laid out decades ago. In the ’90s, Peggy Siegal so deftly pointed out that “personal life, public image — it’s all so intertwined that there’s hardly a way to tell the difference anymore”, which holds true today. Everyone with a public internet profile has either hired a publicist or become their own publicist by default.

We are both our own Alice Larkin and Lara Shriftman. Whether we want fame or not, we carefully curate each and every online image to fit the vision we want other people to have of us. “Boy Moms” take photos of themselves and their sons cuddled together on the couch, and girls post photos of themselves in bikinis on beaches even while they sit at home in the dead of winter. Even the most uncurated photo dump is still crafted to some extent, meant to show people how confident the poster is, how carefree, how happy with their own life or open about their depression that they really are.

We have each, in our own way, taken on the role of publicists for our own lives. We are all little PR people, which is why we idolize PR agents for their talents rather than for their beauty. We know that they are manipulating us because we are doing it too, each of us trapped behind our own version of the glittering mirage of perfection that seems to stay just out of reach.

In NY Magazine, publicists were written about in a way that still placed them above us. They were celebrities in their own right, and the article invited us inside the dollhouse they created. Today’s fascination with publicists takes a different turn: we respect them for their talent, because we don’t need to be welcomed into the dollhouse when we’re already inside. 

Sources

Zillennial Discourse is a column where I use my position as a ’99 baby to weigh in on the evolution of culture, especially as it relates to Gen-Z and Millennials. These columns are rare because they take a ton of research and time, so if you’re interested in learning more check out the sources below! If you’re a fellow Zillennial with an opinion, pitch me your ideas!

TV Shows

• The Age of Influence, Episode 1

Movies

• Queenmaker: The Making of an It Girl

Articles

• Welcome to the Dollhouse
• New York City’s PR Power Girls, 15 Years Later
• Taylor Swift and Beyoncé Are So Big, Even Their Publicists Have Fans