Proximity to her has become an industry in and of itself. Others, well, they are left speechless, blushing. There are those who cite heaven when characterising Rihanna’s smell. She’ll design a perfume with notes of rose and tangerine and house it in a rich, amber bottle, but nobody will bother to talk about rose and tangerine. The sense of ease that, like a halo, diadems all of her movements, announcements, awards, covers, deals – it brings joy. The manner in which Rihanna recuses herself from forced cycles of production without withdrawing totally is strategic, sure, but also part of her appeal. The Fenty universe is vast, even speculative (and worth over a billion, it’s been recently reported). To anticipate Rihanna is to experience a lucky break: the unorthodoxy of a pop star who decelerates, observes, and sizes up while still outdistancing everyone in her orbit. Félix wrote in 2015, “…as a Black woman whose artistic inventiveness outpaces her peers and music executives by what feels like whole years, (Rihanna) will also perpetually be owed”.
It is she who should be running up the bill. Has there ever been a feeling more turned-on and simultaneously unbodied than anticipation? Has there ever been an artist whose everyday performance plays, to perfection, on this type of pleasure? If desire subsists on some measure of disquiet, along with the sport (and business) of a good tease, then being disobliged by Rihanna is, perhaps, the most luxurious value of affection out there. The order of things is of zero concern, and the notion of an overdue album fails to understand something very simple. Because hers is a project of magnanimous proportions, dispensed on her own sweet time. When the music comes, whenever that is, the very notion that it ‘arrived late’ will evaporate into a lapsed, prefab calibre of impatience that simply doesn’t suit Rihanna. It finds its final form.Īnd yet, the premium of her whereabouts, how she enters and exits – creating a new cosmos each time she steps out of a car or leaves a restaurant – is lost on those busy grumbling for more. Silk, we’ve observed, falls differently on Rihanna. When Rihanna shows up in a long yellow train, the red carpet recedes. When Rihanna considers the shoulder, she creates a total eclipse. She can play to her audience in nothing more than ripped cut-offs and the colour pink. She is super-fluent with fur trim and at piling on Chanel pearls when going to the store. Isn’t it the case that with each new outfit, Rihanna erects a monument, sends out a flare and lights up group texts? She gives denim an ulterior motive, reinstates the pin-thin heel, and works over the concept of a hat. How she administers, with regularity, her own hospitable blend of bewildering beauty, play, seduction, good humour, and a superior glow, not to mention a whole regency of intense, generative style. It’s a fantastic delusion that neglects the pop star’s signal. Despite recurring, matter-of-course grievances, nobody, in truth, should be marking time in this manner. The overture, even when delivered sotto voce from her biggest fans, is inaccurate. Whether one likes it or not, there is, in fact, no such thing as waiting for Rihanna. You can buy a copy of our latest issue here
Her 2006 album, A Girl Like Me, became her first to crack the Top 10, peaking at No.
1 hit was 2006's "SOS," which sampled "Tainted Love" by Soft Cell.
So sometimes the toughest thing in life is to be vulnerable." It didn't happen after fame I couldn't survive fame if I didn't already have it.
"This thick skin has been developing since my first day at school.