It all started with a pair of sweatpants. They were gray, shapeless, two sizes too large, with my company’s logo printed on the left hip—a gift given out at our 2019 holiday party. I couldn’t resist sinking into their cozy warmth every chance I got. After three months of enjoying them on weekend bodega runs, they became a much more permanent part of my wardrobe when the pandemic hit. With nowhere to go, I couldn’t muster up the energy to wear anything else.
My sleek leather pants and cool vintage Levi’s only reminded me of how life as we knew it was over.In the grand scheme of things, this was not a problem. I had my health, my family was safe, and I could easily work from home—it was a privilege to have enough time and energy to even briefly think about clothing. But by April 1, 20 whole days into my quarantine, it felt like I’d been wearing sweats forever. That’s when I had an idea.
I’m a novelist, and at that point, I was 60 pages into writing a murder mystery. I abandoned that project—it was too depressing—and cast around for another topic. Sick of my aforementioned sweatpants, I wanted to dive into a glamorous world. I imagined my new protagonist would be a fashion stylist. (This was truly the very first character detail I came up with.) I missed live music and all the other fun New York City has to offer, so I decided her love interest would be a musician, and they’d have date nights at all my favorite restaurants and bars. I craved travel, so there’d be chapters set in Portland and Miami. Most of all, I wanted to hug my grandparents, so I dreamed up a fabulous matriarch. Two years later, that book hit shelves. It’s called Meant to Be Mine, and it’s about a woman who knows the exact day she’ll meet the love of her life, thanks to a prophecy from her eccentric grandmother.
brown tabby cat on white stairsPhoto by 
One of my favorite parts of writing the book was constructing a fictionalized version of New York’s fashion industry. I knew the subject fairly well, thanks to years of interning for fashion magazines and a womenswear designer, as well as reporting on fashion week. I’ve spent my entire career as a writer and editor for lifestyle publications in the city—so while I’m not a fashion industry insider, I’m pretty adjacent. Still, I wanted to learn more, so I started my research.
To flesh out stylist Edie Meyer’s world, first I called Audree Kate López, a stylist living in Manhattan, to get the scoop on what her career looks like behind the scenes. We had crossed paths early on in our careers when I was at Seventeen and she was at Redbook. I’ve been a fan of her work ever since. She has such a knack for styling vibrant, fresh, very New York looks that embody the energy I wanted readers to feel while reading my book.
She told me about the time she styled a pop star with such long, unwieldy nails, she couldn’t put on her own underwear. She talked about a gig styling a rapper who insisted on having lobsters delivered to the set of his photoshoot. Off-camera, López cringed as lobster juice dripped all over the expensive pants she was wearing. I couldn’t resist putting both of those stories in the book. She also considered descriptions of my characters and recommended brands they should wear. (For Edie herself, vintage Versace and Valentino from her grandmother’s closet paired with chunky Lulu Frost jewelry.)
I also used my own experiences in magazines as inspiration. Pre-2020, I went to lots of press previews, which strike me as such a quirky element of the industry. The guests were often familiar to me—typically people who held my same job title at other publications. I could count on there being copious amounts of wine and cheese, and I was always tickled by the unusual perks publicists offered to get busy writers and editors in the door. (I’ve received everything from a dance class led by the Rockettes to Beyoncé tickets.)
In Meant to Be Mine, Edie goes to a press preview and air-kisses the guests she knows: fashion editors, Bachelor contestants-turned-influencers, and “Frank, who does not work in fashion (or seem to work at all), and yet somehow makes an appearance at more industry parties than any of us.” (Don’t we all know a Frank?) She enjoys the brand’s signature cocktail, and after viewing the clothes, listens to a “fireside chat by a renowned career coach,” because what else would a brand specializing in great suits do?
Keke “Keep a Job” Palmer, as social media has deemed her, has experienced various sides of the entertainment industry. From acting, hosting, Broadway, and more to creating opportunities for other creatives through her digital network KeyTV, it feels like there’s nothing she hasn’t explored and conquered. However, when you talk to her about her passion for music and layered views on growing up in the spotlight, it’s clear that everything hasn’t always been as picture-perfect as it seems.
In this exclusive conversation with xoNecole, Keke shares insight into the struggles she battled within the music industry, what audiences can expect from the Big Boss visual album release, and the impact love and motherhood have brought to her life.
The visual album is a little over 40 minutes long, but in that short amount of time, it taps into many of the multihyphenate’s emotions and experiences, like unhealthy relationships, therapy, family dynamics, and more – all while showcasing Keke’s bops and fire dance moves. One scene that resonated with me most is when she walks into a music studio with someone in the music industry she thought she could trust, played by Harlem’s Robert Ri'chard.
You expect to be greeted by the studio norms, but instead, the room is filled with dead animals and people eating raw meat, while everyone is strangely oblivious to it. Just from that startling scene, it’s clear that her experience within the music industry was a dark one. She explains, saying, “The biggest struggle, simply put, was misogyny and politics, just trying to get people on board with you, people are so clicky and don’t see success for you. It’s just a lot of drama that’s not based on talent, and it gets really exhausting and tears at your spirit."
She continues, “Every artist is sensitive and trying to grow, learn, and be safe in their career, and it’s constantly halted with all of the other stuff. The people I was choosing to be around were not for me. It’s the same people that continued the negative narrative that I became conditioned with from my first record deal.”
As the art continues to dig into what she went through in the industry. It also explores her personal relationships with loved ones and how she unpacked them through therapy. In one emotional scene, she opens up about not fitting in. She tells her mother: “I feel trapped. It’s like knowing exactly who you are, and everyone’s looking at you and seeing something different.” I don’t know if it was the fact that Mama Palmer was actually playing herself or the power of Keke’s words, but it felt very honest, and it made me wonder where it stemmed from.
She expounded on the scene, saying, “Everybody is perceived as someone now in the social media era, but I was coming from my own personal story, growing up in front of people and being seen since I was a kid. I can never go back from that; I can never be a new person again. I’m always going to be whoever people invented me to be. My mom used to say this quote to me, ‘never let other people’s perception of you be a perception of yourself,’ that is hard to do. But I finally had to live up to the quote and resist the temptation to allow people to tell me who I’m going to be and what’s there for me, which specifically happens a lot in the music industry.”
"My mom used to say this quote to me, ‘Never let other people’s perception of you be a perception of yourself,’ that is hard to do. But I finally had to live up to the quote and resist the temptation to allow people to tell me who I’m going to be and what’s there for me, which specifically happens a lot in the music industry.”
You can tell sis is feeling real liberated, and the art isn’t the only reason. She credits the love from her relationship and son for sparking something new in her. “I have such a beautiful bond with my mother, but it’s not something I thought I could realistically have outside of my family,” the new mom explains. “The kind of unconditional support and love they give me is so selfless. I just wanted a partner that felt like my family – one that wasn’t burdened or intimidated by my success, and I think hoping that and thinking about it brought it into my life.”
Keke also feels like motherhood has impacted her creatively and brings a sense of peace. “Nothing is more important to me than my son. It’s this sense of ease because there’s nothing I care about more than him. Everything will be okay. That ease has brought tons of inspiration, courage, and power,” she says. “He’s my everything. At one time, all I had was my career, then it went to building a bond with my partner, and that was the beginning of me really having something of my own. It’s not a part of entertainment; it’s my family, so for that to keep growing, it just makes me that much more creative and full.”
Wait a second – speaking of things her son gave her. We had to get into her mom-bod. Like many, motherhood has changed her body, and the millennial diva looks bomb AF, while she mentioned being appreciative of all the love she’s getting online about it, it made us discuss the pressure women sometimes face trying to fit an aesthetic.
“I think I’ve always been body conscious because so much is about your body in the industry. But after having my son – I’m just like, who gives a shit? I still want to be on point because that’s part of my industry. But I think a lot of moms feel that snapback culture because of celebrities and social media."
She continues, “I try to stay on point because of the opportunities I want, but it’s never to the point where it’s life and death. I think there’s a level of confidence I have in this new body. It’s really about how I feel inside, more than what it looks like outside. I never thought I would have this (hips, thighs, etc.), but now it’s here, and I’m so confident. I feel better than ever.”
“I think I’ve always been body conscious because so much is about your body in the industry. But after having my son – I’m just like, who gives a shit? I still want to be on point because that’s part of my industry. But I think a lot of moms feel that snapback culture because of celebrities and social media."
From Barbershop and Akeelah and the Bee to Nope and Hustlers to the endless viral digital moments, Keke continuously works and keeps us entertained. But one of my personal favorite things about her is how inspiring she is, and the Big Boss music and film is a clear example of that. “I think I’ve seen a lot of benefits to the seeds I’ve sown. I overcame a lot. Specifically, I’m not afraid to be my biggest champion. I’m not in a place where I need people to agree. I feel so secure, and that was kinda the energy that we [her and her EP, Grammy award-winning Tricky Stewart] put into the project.
"This Big Boss era is ultimately about ownership, independence, and strength. There’s been moments in my life where there might have been hesitation or confusion, but now everything is solution-based.” Keke embodies the idea that you can do what you love with who you love on your terms. And I really love this Big Boss Era for her and can’t wait to add the music to my playlist. It’s giving, summer 2023 is gonna be one for the books!
Big Boss, the film is available Friday, May 12, 2023, exclusively on KeyTV and available for streaming wherever you stream your music.
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Feature image courtesy of Keke Palmer
The Great Report
2020 Global Report Sheet
