In a room manned by a stylist, publicist, photographer and editor-in-chief, he is choosing his own clothes, setting up his own shots and peering at proofs. With pretenses set aside, an objective fly on the wall would be admittedly impressed watching Breezy in his milieu as a professional. Seeing the sum of Chris Brown’s parts on this Thursday night requires the art of letting go. And in order to grasp this updated version of everybody’s favorite crooner to hate, one must forget what they think they know. This is the essence of today’s Brown: confident, comfortable and unapologetically open to life’s lessons. “A lock? For what? I can fight,” he says, flashing his 1000-watt grin. Propping open a jewelry box filled with his own diamond-encrusted pieces, including a wildly oversized championship-style “OHB” pinky ring (which stands for One Hunnid Billion, Outta Here Bitch and various other creative concoctions), an iced-out Allen Iverson logo pendant and a host of other blinding chains and bracelets, Brown incredulously answers an inquiry on the whereabouts of a lock for the case that houses such prized possessions. Now, at 26 years old with an impressive ten-year career under his belt, Brown is in the position to protect himself–literally. Along with VIBE and other various different people and other things, I just separated myself from a lot of negative things, or things that I feel that I couldn’t be protected under.” “And I don’t think the direction focused on the road to redemption it was more so on the controversy and the bulls**t that was going on in my life. “In the past, I don’t think I was able to capitalize fully off of the exposure that was given to me by VIBE,” he says matter-of-factly. No longer a defenseless young’n’, the singer/dancer turned multi-art hyphenate is in command and ready to make amends on his own terms. Clad in distressed jeans, a plain white t-shirt, orange Tampa Bay Buccaneers throwback Starter jacket and a pair of highly sought-after white Supreme Jordans, the music phenom is calm and collected, and his shoulder is outwardly void of chips. call time, milling about the hardwood of a non-descript studio, sifting through a rack of clothing and accessories for another VIBE cover shoot. Dry, warm Hollywood, California is unseasonably rainy and chilly, and Brown is early for his 8 p.m. Six years later, a blue moon of sorts emerges onto the horizon, as a host of happenings occur that no one truly anticipated.
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