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which I ran – in heels – into the drycleaners to drop off Diane’s laundry that day. And then I was back in the taxi faster than you could say ‘blisters’.
    ‘Okay, the Ivy on George Street, please,’ Anya said to the cab driver as I rubbed my aching ankles.
    Look had chosen the Ivy Penthouse as the shoot location because it was decadent, a little retro and spacious enough to transform into anything you needed. Plus, as this was an underwear shoot, a bed was essential. Look ’s emphasis on top-shelf products made them the perfect fit for our market. A glossy tabloid would have only cheapened the lingerie range, and by giving Look an exclusive shoot with Raven, we were on good ground to get the cover. An international celeb with a local angle in a mag focused near-exclusively on international fashion was an ideal situation.
    Opening the door to the Penthouse, we were greeted by three bulging racks of designer clothing. By the tranquillity of the room I knew Raven hadn’t yet arrived. After introductions with the stylist, her assistants, the fashion editor and some runners, I left Anya fawning over clothes that were to be touched ( touched! ) by Raven and called Marlita, Raven’s manager, to check our model was still on track (and not just crack).
    ‘We’re almost there, but Raven and I have just discussed this and we would like to cut the shoot time from four to two hours because Raven is unprecedentedly jet-lagged today and really needs to rest. Thanks!’ Then Marlita hung up.
    A response from me was clearly not required.
    Knowing full well that ‘jet-lagged’ means ‘big night out’ on a normal day, let alone one into which I had serious insight, I quietly began to panic. Raven’s pill-popping excursion to Kings Cross might yet cost us the cover of Look . Not to mention my job once Diane found out.
    You see, while Marlita, as Raven’s manager, was technically responsible for making sure the talent didn’t go off the rails, my role as publicist had the dubious distinction of having no clear distinction. As long as the client was happy, the talent was happy and Diane was not homicidal, I could rest easy. Easy, huh? In short, when Raven was in town and spruiking our client’s products, it was my job to make sure all headlines were good headlines. Whatever that might take.
    A text came through from Zoe, another of the senior publicists at Wilderstein: So Raven is headline news. Only the article fails to mention why she is here in Australia. Is this your fuck-up? Why was Raven even out in the Cross? Zoe attached a link to a US gossip site that I promptly pasted into the browser on my BlackBerry.The headline read: CAN’T KEEP AWAY FROM THE CLUBS BUT SEEMINGLY SOBER: RAVEN REMAINS A GOOD GIRL DOWN UNDER.
    I waited anxiously for the photo to load. It’s hard to describe the feeling of seeing a picture of yourself, one that is captioned as someone famous, on an American gossip website that is read by millions of people a day. I couldn’t stop staring at it and, with my eyes still glued to the screen, I raced straight out to the balcony to read the story.
    Reformed LA party princess Raven was spotted leaving an Australian nightclub earlier this morning. But don’t worry, the one-time off-the-rails singer has not returned to her bad-girl ways. Witnesses report the YouTube phenomenon was calm and collected when she left Sydney hotspot Kit and Kaboodle, despite the local time being 4 am!
    The photographer who took these photos said Raven kindly posed for pictures with a fan while smiling and waving for their own shots. Quite a world away from her regular behaviour, wouldn’t you agree? Unaided by any handlers, Raven even took a cab by herself back to the hotel, which is unheard of for a celeb visiting another country. Good to see you’ve got your feet planted firmly on Aussie soil, Raven.
    Wow. I did it! This was beyond ! Aside from the fact the gossip site believed the person in the picture was