“HELLO,” MR. JORDAN

“HELLO,” MR. JORDAN

It would be an exaggeration to say I know Michael Jordan.  Yes, I have met the man.  Yes, I have worked around the man.  Yes, I have taken a picture with the man.  And yes, I have spoken to the man, even had short conversations with the man.  Yet, I cannot say that I know Michael Jordan.

Assuredly, I will say that he is a man whom I respect and admire.

I think it was the summer of 1988, before starting my graduate study at the University of Georgia.  I had been hired as one of the two wardrobe stylists on the Kenny Rogers’ Classic Weekend television show.  It was a televised show highlighting talented athletes from several sports, particularly NBA basketball superstars of the time.   

NBA superstars like Michael Jordan, Isiah Thomas, Larry Bird and Dominque Wilkins were some of the ‘A-Listers the 2 years I worked the show.  I was also given the pleasure of dressing other celebrities such as Gladys Knight, Travis Tritt and the smoothest of them all, Smokey Robinson. Try not to be too jealous ladies, but my right hand was kissed by Mr. Robinson--as he is the greatest gentleman.

Yet, of all the celebrities and players, no other star was as magical in person as Michael Jordan. 

My first profound conversation with him was during the first summer of the show.  I was in the kitchen, seated with my head down reading instructions--learning how to use the washer machine and dryer-- when I sensed someone else in the kitchen with me.  Low and behold, it was the young, later to become legendary, Michael Jordan.  Beyond his extraordinary talent, he was the man of the hour because a kazillion women on the planet were in mourning from the unexpected news that he had just gotten married. 

As I was not confident enough to think that a Michael Jordan would ever enter my circle of life, I had no reason to be in mourning.  Such a possibility of dating and marrying a Michael Jordan was not on my radar of reality.  So when my head lifted and the very tall basketball icon of the time (and now history) stood before me, with no chaperone or bodyguard around, my natural instincts as a woman should have kicked in.  I should have naturally grabbed him by the ankle and not let go, screaming out like a banshee just to be in his presence, but no, not one hair on my arm stood erect.

Something about Michael Jordan made me feel that I was being given a gift from the gods…a private moment with Michael.  I could not blow this moment.  I just could not do it to myself nor to him.

Michael had been bombarded by the entire world.  I was about to give him a rare moment to breathe.

He politely did the church nod and I followed his lead.  I didn’t know if he would stay a minute or a nanosecond.  I just knew that he was there.  Standing a few feet away.  

I was mega-nervous.  Why was I so nervous? I thought.  It’s not like I’m breaking into his house.  I’m working.  And this isn’t his house.  We are both working right now.  We are in the kitchen on the EXTREMELY large estate of Kenny Rogers.  And I do mean LARGE!  I’m talking nothing you can ever imagine as a private residence LARGE.

Based on my old, fading memory, Kenny Rogers’ estate featured not only the main house and guests’ residence, but also a full-size equestrian arena, basketball court, full lake, golf course, and performance venue.  I’m telling you it was a massive property with Michael Jordan and Vanessa Brantley frozen in a slice of time, about to have a conversation in the kitchen.

Breathe.  Here goes.

“Hello, Mr. Jordan.”  I said with reverence.

“Please, call me Michael,” he responded.  I think his next statement was something basic like “Looks like you have your work cut out for you.  You have to wash the outfits and uniforms, too?” 

Basically, he was referring to the fact that I had to get the measurements and descriptions of all the outfits for the players and performers; conduct fittings and do the alterations; plus maintain the looks-- which is why I was doing the laundry.  Remember, it was only two stylists and one wardrobe supervisor.  In general, the supervisor worked with Kenny Rogers and we (the two stylists) handled everyone else.

“Yes,” I said.  “It’s the nature of the job.” “So how is it going, thus far?”  I nervously asked.

Not really sure whether I meant the show or his new marriage, I guess he assumed because everyone had been asking the same question.  He faintly smiled and gave me the scoop of all time. 

No, I will not repeat what he told me.  However, I will say that we shared a very short and honest conversation about the hottest topic of that year. I had an exclusive one-on-one with the grand Michael Jordan.  The conversation will forever remain private, for he is above all, just a man.  And I can say with pride and honor that I have shared a brief moment with Mr. Jordan during his incredibly legendary life.

Michael, you deserved it all!


*Vanessa Brantley  Style395.blogspot.com, July 9, 2017, “’Hello’, Mr. Jordan”, Volume 8, Blog 1a [vol. 8, 1a-1c].