Not Your Ordinary Hollywood Star

Modern Gentleman

March 2016 Issue

Tai Robideaux is not your ordinary Hollywood star. Consider: you first meet at Katsu-Ya, a Studio City strip-mall sushi-bar short on decor and long on local cache.

“I’m a sushi whore,” he jokes, immediately putting you at ease. You expect today’s stars to hide behind a wall of publicists and ego. But Tai shows up in a t-shirt and ripped jeans. Local boy done good with the aw-shucks grin to boot.

Nothing in Tai’s early path suggested his current placement in the upper echelon of celebrity. He grew up in Saco, a small town on Maine’s southern coast. His father was an engineer and his mother taught elementary school.

Of his childhood? “Great times,” Tai tells you. Earnest. Pleasant. Eager to share a piece of his yellowtail. Not your ordinary Hollywood star.

You notice glances, nods toward your table. Most of them zero-in on Tai, the cut, bronzed star flashing the multiplex-ready grin at every turn. But they also look at you. Stare at you. Who is this lucky friend graced by the presence of royalty? Silly? Sure, but you feel the magnetism that only comes when you’re close to such a unique artist.

“Sake bombs?” he asks. If he’s game, you’re game. And 20 minutes later, you’re lightheaded.

Tai orders up an Uber, once again demonstrating common-man bromides to contrast your expectations of limousines and Lear Jets. Where to next?

“Let’s hit up the cages,” he says. You think, ‘Ah, here it comes.’ Your mind jumps to sex dungeons organized by the Tinseltown Elite. But nope. In 15 minutes, you pull up to a Sherman Oaks funzone called Castle Park, where Tai rents a metal bat and two helmets. Batting cages. Not your ordinary Hollywood star.

30 swings in the 80 mile-per-hour cage produce whiffs and foul tips. “I’m rusty, bro.” Tai made varsity at Thornton Academy, Maine’s largest high school. “I could hit…but I had metal hands at 3rd,” he adds with a self-deprecating flourish.

Tai moves to the 60 mph cage and proceeds to launch an impressive succession of line drives and moon shots trapped by the cage’s netting. A metaphor for his career, perhaps? As the Leos and Benedicts enjoy awards attention and autuer prestige, Tai remains the darling of Popcorn Fare, the easier cage in the opinions of certain tastemakers. While his box office numbers widen your eyes, Tai has yet to draw the appraisal of the Academy.

“I’m not in it for awards,” Tai says as you catch Uber Deux for a ride into West Hollywood. You scoff. Just a little. Just enough to let him know you’ve got your eye on him. “Nah, I just like the ride!” he insists, before “oohing” at a spicy young Latina woman in Daisy Dukes heading into the Castle with her boyfriend. Just a kid, enjoying the high life. Not your ordinary Hollywood star.

You follow Tai into an austere Melrose Avenue design palace and he shows you a table. Cut oak, long, lean, intentionally rough, a coveted piece. A little like Tai. A lot like Tai. You make the comparison and he laughs. “My decorator’s supposed to meet up here but…” he holds up his phone as evidence… “she’s stuck in Wilshire gridlock.”

Wilshire gridlock. Maybe the kid’s going Hollywood. You point it out and earn another chuckle. “Maybe, bro. Maybe.” He asks if Modern Gentleman could foot the bill for the table. You check the price tag. $17,899. Not quite a yellowtail lunch. And then you see the glint in his eye, the hustler, the con man trying to convince audiences across the world that he’s more than just a lucky kid from Saco. Or maybe that’s all he is. Maybe that’s why we love him. Because he’s not your ordinary Hollywood star.

You ask him about his biceps, turning on a fake-but-kinda-real voice of longing. “I’m paleo right now,” he admits. Tai needs to put on another 15 pounds of cut, rugged, Maine lumberjack-esque muscle for his upcoming role in Disney’s live action Sleeping Beauty reboot helmed by Rupert Sanders. Is this the part that takes Tai into the stratosphere of Gosling and Pattinson?

“Rupert’s an artist so…I’m more focused on the work itself than what comes after,” Tai insists. You ask about co-star Lily Collins and he smiles. Saying nothing, but saying everything. You see the headlines. Tai and Lily. Lily and Tai. Their names don’t make for easy portmanteus (Robidollins? Collineaux?) but their faces certainly provide the aspirational beauty this town always craves.

You share a quick hug with Tai’s designer, Courtney Loundon. You know each other from the occasional rooftop party long on champagne and short on variability. And then they’re off, waltzing across the floor room in search of the perfect bookcase. “White, you need more white,” Courtney insists. And the Saco kid nods because he’s the sort of heartthrob who isn’t afraid to mix color schemes into his bachelorhood. Yup. Not your ordinary Hollywood star.