Angela Simmons: Full Frontal



“Did they turn all the lights blue downstairs like I asked?” she asks. “And did they change the logos to all blue? It’s supposed to be Electric Daze and they tried to use pink!”

Her salon stool doubles as a director’s chair as she douses out tiny flames by firing off a series of last-minute concerns and requests. There’s the step-and-repeat that isn’t fit to display: “If it looks ghetto, I’m not putting it up—it’s a bad reflection on me. It’s got to be done right or not at all.” And door difficulties: “A lot of close friends I invited got stuck outside, but it happens. Next time we’ll use a bigger venue.” Even the lack of a liquor sponsor is shrugged off with grace: “I’m winging it.” When overwhelming support is your biggest issue, you’re obviously doing something right.

Don’t get it twisted, though—Angela isn’t all about barking orders. In between the hectic hiccups, there’s plenty of giggling and girl talk about mystery men with coded nicknames. When she hears that the goofy GIF photo booth has arrived, she’s so amped she practically squeals, “It’s soooo cool!”