WITH BRUCE LABRUCE
For anyone with even a casual relationship with the delicious Page Six, The New York Post's gossip column, "Bijou" should already be somewhat of a household word. In fact, Bijou Phillips, who will turn twenty in the year 2000, has been the veritable holy terror of Page Six for the past four or five years now. She's today's Tuesday, the new Drew, a wild child who, through fate and circumstance, was somehow allowed to partake of New York's nebulous nightlife at an age traditionally more suited to playing with dolls — that is, of the non-pharmaceutical variety.
Bijou is one of the three famous daughters from different mothers of Papa John Phillips of the '60s group, The Mamas and the Papas, the other two being MacKenzie, of American Graffiti and One Day at a Time, and Chynna, formerly of the pop band Wilson Phillips, and currently a Baldwin wife.
The senior Phillips' annoyingly cocksure autobiography, Papa John, chronicles the life of a selfish and driven man whose bipolar extremes, fueled by a self-destructive indulgence in sex and drugs, left a trail of broken lives in his wake. Indeed, Bijou may have had her first drug experience before she was born.
It was with a little trepidation that I first met young Bijou (through a mutual friend, the lovely, red-headed recording star Esthero) at a sushi restaurant in Toronto. I'd already heard the rumors, and was anticipating a Tasmanian she-devil who might just as soon bite my hand as shake it. Greeting me instead was a charming girl with porcelain skin and kewpie doll lips, and the particularly disconcerting quality of someone nineteen going on thirty-five. Aside from mounting and almost disrobing one of our nubile female dinner companions, and shoving her tongue down her throat — which sent our servers scurrying nervously from the private room — I found her company quite civilized. She's a forthright and engaging young lady with a fondness for dirty rapping and spontaneous balladeering. I hoped to see her again.
A few months later, when Bijou was back in Toronto shooting a movie called Tart, we ended up in a cab one evening under the influence of some harmless club drug. For fifteen minutes I sat transfixed as she spoke softly into her flashing pink cell phone reciting a passionate, epic love poem to her current beau, then dismissed it as piffle. She stretched out her long legs and nestled cat-like in the back seat as if in a perpetual state of limousine. I gazed in wonder at a girl who seemed to have the world at her feet.
Bijou will soon appear in James Toback's Black and White. The movie's a mess, but Bijou sparkles. She's also working on a follow-up to her debut album, I'd Rather Eat Glass, which was released last year, and this month she graces the cover of Playboy. It seemed appropriate to bring along a recent issue of Celebrity Sleuth — a salacious magazine that digs up and reprints obscure or previously suppressed pictures of famous females in the nude — in which she ravishingly appears. I'm quite excited, as I've been collecting the Sleuth's work for years. Bijou flips through it distractedly as we settle in.
Posted because I wanted to place some truth on the speculation and whisper arounds regarding Bijou going on since the beginning of this scandal. Also, to let ONTD get a bit more perspective on the greatness that is Bijou Phillips.