Home Nightlife Bijoux goes off the Cliff! Revelry in 2009.

Bijoux goes off the Cliff! Revelry in 2009.


If one has ever wondered what’s it like to sustain an evening with bated breath, perky somethings, managed misbehavior and the incredulity that the world’s sexiest, cosmopolitan and naughty crowd could exist, then one needed to drop by Bijoux when the clock struck twelve last Thursday. With robust music, slinky girls, seduction peeling off the wall and between your lips this must have been the night you dared to be lucky, but then again we were always going to be lucky…

So there we are, our heads going ding dong against the chandeliers, our eyes following the curves and sounds people make when they passionately lock lips. Call this New Year’s revelry, we’re more inclined to call it Ancient Roman pageantry.

I’ve managed to remove the lipstick and the spilt champagne beginning to camouflage my appearance but hopefully not my countenance.

“I’m just a poor boy from a poor family, please Bijoux save me from this monstrosity.”

“No, we will not let you go.”

“The girl, the dj, the champagne have put a spell on me….”

“Easy come, easy go, the slinky shall remain in your face …”

And this is the way it begins and frankly the way it remains all the way through. To hear about savage parties without one being present is lamentable but to be present and in the thick of it is frankly diabolical. Complicit in the debauchery I pick up a stray bottle of champagne and drink from it. Satisfied I now turn to look to see if anyone has noticed. To be frank no one really cares, and it’s then that you know you’ve hit upon the perfect party, deep in some basement in the city, so far away from the mayhem in the country.

I turn to light a cigarette and watch it waft mercilessly around the room, the nicotine doing battle with all the laughter, banter and other grey matter colliding in mid space.

To be frank I’m not sure if it’s hit me we are now in 2009 and what I should make of all this, like the seasoned pro that I am I pick up the bottle standing idle next to me to see if drinking it will give me further clarity. In fact quite the opposite. But isn’t that why we’re all here in a perverse kind of way. To celebrate and rejoice life while simultaneously denouncing clarity. Oh well, it seems the bottle is empty.

As the evening goes on, and the music elevates each and every one of us to another preferred level I begin to wonder how I’ll go on living the rest of the year, now that I’ve already reached the year’s pinnacle and zenith. Of course being human I am sure like all the rest of us I will find intriguing ways to keep the dream afloat.

Incited by the wonderful visual in front of me, I implore the danglers to retain their poise and élan while I grab Sammy to capture the moment for eternity. Unfortunately when I do come across Sammy I have come to realize that the dear chap (like the rest of us it seems) is also intent on further negotiating his mortality. Taking the grog out of his hands and all the lovely people fawning all over him (why him I wonder?) I bring him back to the center of the playing field.

“Here, Sammy- this is it. Take the perfect picture.”

“But I was taking the perfect picture before you grabbed me!”

“I know but the shiny lights, liquor and the thing dripping in the back of my throat have the best of me.”

From there Sammy went into automatic ninja fashion mode, placing limbs, smiles gestures across his camera lens whilst I rapidly wrote for dear life. From there I had all of eternity running up to me.

“Oh my God, are you from Vogue or something? What are you writing? Can I buy you another drink? Are you someone famous?”

And as much and when I could respond I did, but like people who have a predilection to the written word I chose to resort to the comfort of the written word, the comfort of my mind running amok at a million trillion miles an hour.

Life, eternity, splendor, Roman pantheons, shiny handbags, dagger stilettos, disco music down my throat, and the inquisitive look of Sammy who knows better than to disturb me.

Get up, find some liquor, shake hands with the fourth guy in a row trying to seduce Sabrina our publicist, look for somewhere to piss (the travesty) , another hand shake to implore, another martini I can no longer ignore and the image of a young man many years ago looking deep into the stars and wondering what exactly he was capable of. What we’re all capable of…

I now look up at Sabrina who’s imploring me to talk to some skinny chap struggling for dear life and another round of martini.

“She thinks I should talk to you.”

“No, I’m afraid she’s mistaken.”

“Yes. I think so too.”‘

I turn to go.

“Where’s your accent from?”

“The Bayou’s.”


“Yeah you too.”

Scallywag and Martin Ambrose.

But really you have to see the smiles between our teeth, me and skinny over here are enjoying ourselves. Really.

“Okay, I’m a scallywag writing an article about tonight’s event.”

“Oh one of those.”

“Yes, I know. You?”


“Do tell?”

“Martin. Public relations- publicist.”

“Oh you mean you’re a whore in other words.”

If you’ve ever wanted to either delight or offend someone at the same time this word from experience will surely delight and denigrate.

“You’re a bit rude.”

“Yes, but it is the new year and there’s a chance for me.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Clearly you’re right.”

I make to leave, (such the actor I know)

“Hey where do you think you’re going?”

“Too hell.”

“I wouldn’t bother, I’ve been there, it’s not really that appealing.”

“Neither’s heaven if you must know.”

We look at each and break down in complete laughter in each other’s arms, but isn’t this what life and virtue is all about? Taking irreconcilable differences and turning them into familial tangents that one dare not let go?

I give the fellow a big smile and another hug and as I begin looking for Sammy, Sabrina our publicist, and the next bottle of champagne (and not necessarily in that order) I think to myself how lucky I really am, and if I can continue I’ll find the courage to be who I need to be, new year or not…if we can all find the courage to be who we need to be…new year or not.

So I finally come home and read what this lovely fellow Martin has dared to write in my journal;

“Christopher- FAME is people knowing you and wanting to be like you or wanting to know all about you.”

“So? the question mark in my head says.

“Is how we come to the point of loving ourselves irrespective of accepting what people say and not caring…”

Amazing what people can come up with once they been through hell and heaven and a bottle or two….but then again I couldn’t have had a more thrilling new year’s eve and this Scallywag embraces you all, now which way is hell…?

Many accolades and regards to the Koch twins for pulling off another thriller, Scallywag Vagabond adore you!!

Mahlot, Scallywag, Nora.



  1. i was really hoping to read one of ur pucker-lipped treasures named bijoux actually fall off a cliff. shame. would have been a great start to the ny.

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