I Was Invited to a Diddy Party When I Was 16 Turning 17

The time Cinderella was saved from the ball, no Prince Charming of any age.

My long running joke when people asked me a fun fact about myself: the story of how my parents “ruined” my social life.

Sean Combs, Diddy, P. Diddy, any name you may call him, was a mogul, music icon, the handsome actor from Monster’s Ball, his clothing, cars, and homes based on The Great Gatsby. In my teens and 20’s, he in person wasn’t the image you see of the man we know, physically or otherwise. Seeing him in his crispy suit and his stunning car around Manhattan, you wouldn’t haven’t thought someone like him needed to do what we see today looking back. The camera didn’t portray him accurately. He was a star.

June 2004. I was towards the end of my 16th year on Earth. Diddy had a Vote or Die youth election PR push.

I was talking to an employee of his regarding it. The person invited me, giving me this awesome write-up about it with I presume was his personal home address in The Hamptons. Sean Combs was going to bring out the Declaration of Independence. As with every White Party, he was to be Jay Gatsby, inviting Hollywood’s finest, New York’s everyone who was everyone, stars of the future, and, YOU. You, Nicole.

I was asked how old I was. “16, but I’m turning 17 on June 26th.” Anything to make me sound older and more responsible. Cooler. Diddy wouldn’t want Marcia Brady at his party. I did not and do not drink, smoke, do drugs, or do a whole lot. My wildest moments are expressed in Cleopatra eyeliner.

A Diddy party! What if I, a budding creative, she who would someday direct and star in fabulous blockbuster films, a future top film score composer with her Best Original Score, networked? I had networked before and met the kindest people ever, asking them any millions of questions I could learn about film, music, cinematic fashion, and business with my eyes shiny and excited. When I was 14, for example, I met Arnold Scaasi. He answered questions I had about fancy on screen dresses. What if I met more people to learn from? What if?! I had to go.

What if I met someone close to my age I found attractive at the party? Strong odds!

I was probably going to be a prop, one of the young people invited for the Vote or Die campaign to make Diddy look good, posing beside him and the Declaration of Independence, a crowd of us, possibly? Right?

He probably wanted the cool factor, like he was culturally relevant to younger people for his music and clothing line. The Vote or Die campaign was getting an interest in his career, circling back for good publicity. Right? No harm done.

Diddy’s White Party gala was legendary. To be invited, without him being in my social circle, was like the stamp of approval.

In my unique educational setup with early graduation, I was doing community college coursework online. During the summer of 2004, I was required for the first time to the physical location of the school in what I call “my mailing address” town downstate Illinois, because I tried not to be there as much as I could. My family has no ties to that town, and it felt really awkward being there. My dad was there for his job.

My teachers that summer in the quick coursework agreed to let me miss about half of school and do the rest whenever I was around in bulk homework returns. Some of it was spent checking out universities. I went during the hottest time of the year to Austin, Texas, saw that magnificent clocktower and its stairs. Something out of nowhere told me, “You are supposed to go to school here.”

My parents didn’t let me miss more school because I was “already missing half.” My teachers were already agreeing to special circumstances for my homework.

I could not go to the Fourth of July party at Diddy’s house.

My social life was destroyed. Forever, I joked.

As a 38 year old, people, famous, not famous, in the floating space between, all who knew me then today think of me as a silly teen girl. They baby me and treat me like a 1950’s sitcom where all is good in this world. Native New Yorkers. Chicagoans and Missourians. Texans. People of the deep South. The spaces I knew. My self reference is always “A Midwestern Gal in Wonderland.” I am Alice in my carved out magical land where nobody tries to harm me most of the time. The world I live in is Wonderland. Partially because I never went to “real” high school or university classes until UT Austin, and there, I met my fave teacher ever, a lovely man from Illinois who moved to Texas and never looked back, a role model to me in business and life. I don’t always agree with him, he doesn’t always agree with the former students clinging to him like hatched ducklings as we view him as a father and some a grandfather figure. He respects us and gives us that Mr. Roger’s love.

So you can think to how speechless I became the day it was outed that Diddy’s party allegedly wasn’t a hangout where up and coming starlets, the Lindsay Lohan and Hilary Duff types, an early Beyoncé, everyone you could think of who was cool, hung out.

Everyone began asking me, “Weren’t you invited to a Diddy party?”

My mom. “You were invited to a Diddy party in 2004!”

The world: “Did you know?”

No, I did not.

You did not.

We did not.

No one did.

In my film research when I was 20+ in NYC post university graduation, the late 2000’s and early 2010’s, for an action movie I shall someday write and direct, my heart set on it for so long since my university days, I learned about abuse and privilege in all rounds of it. Discreetly observing it in broad daylight around New York. Hearing. Being instructed how to spot it by people who knew how. This was during a time when I was smacking method screenwriting/acting, acting one on one private learning, film research for a handful or more of film ideas, and a lot. It was like the world’s most intensive drama education you can’t buy. All made possible for free by amazing people willing to lead me from their real career experiences in fields I wanted to portray on screen and former Broadway professionals. Wild stuff. Being able to ride a giant truck with permission from a Chelsea based company up Fifth Avenue, spotting a grand almost bird’s eye view of how I can someday recreate that on a green screen or set, wow. Experiences!

All of the creeps I ever saw around, I could guess them when people taught me how. Diddy was the single, for the sake of this article, alleged, creep I never saw coming.

My commentary cannot extend to the situation as a whole. Luckily, I will never know. It is said God looks out for you. The only time I never said yes to attending something so glamourous was this event.

Cinderella is happy she never left her glass slipper in The Hamptons.