Mitchell Jackson arrived at The Odeon 10 minutes early for our photo shoot, getting out of his Uber with headphones on for a phone call. With a large coffee in hand and an L.L.Bean tote embroidered with “Cancelled” over his shoulder, the PR strategist and crisis consultant took a lap around the block, finishing his phone call privately, before meeting in front of the Tribeca restaurant promptly at 10 a.m. “I hate this,” he says of the attention, before politely introducing himself to the photographer, whom he towered over in black Doc Martens boots.

Being in front of the camera, and the subject of a story, is uncomfortable for Jackson. A self-described “interloper,” the 33-year-old PR pro is accustomed to working behind the scenes on behalf of high-profile (and frequently shit-stirring)

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