Phoebe Cates starred in many movies, such as “Gremlins” and “Drop Dead Fred,” but she is best known for her famous pool scene in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” from 1982.
However, Phoebe Cates left Hollywood more than 20 years ago. Nowadays, she has a regular job that she really enjoys.
Phoebe Belle Cates was born on July 16, 1963, in New York City. When she was a young girl, she went to private schools and studied ballet at Juilliard.
Acting was a big part of Phoebe’s family. Her father, Joe Cates, was a producer and director, her uncle was the president of the Director’s Guild, her brother used to be an actor, and her sister, Valerie, worked in theater.
Phoebe wanted to be a dancer when she was younger, but she had to stop after a knee injury.
At 14, Phoebe Cates started modeling and did pretty well. She was even on the cover of Seventeen magazine four times. But she didn’t really enjoy it and wanted to try something new.
“It was just the same thing, over and over. After a while, I did it solely for the money,” Phoebe said about her short modeling career.
One night, at a party at New York’s famous Studio 54, she met her film agent. After that, she trained with Robert Ravan, who founded The Actors’ Circle in New York.
“I just knew that I didn’t want to go to college. I thought if I could get a few movie roles, it would be a great way to avoid college. Seriously, it’s true,” Phoebe told The Daily Item in 1985.
Phoebe also trained with Alice Spivack at the H.B. Studios. She made her acting debut in 1982, playing Sarah in “Paradise.” Less than a year later, she starred in “Experienced” and then “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” which featured the famous swimming pool scene.
“Fast Times at Ridgemont High” was a big hit with teenagers and became an important part of pop culture. It’s especially famous for one scene that Rolling Stone magazine called “the most memorable bikini-drop in cinema history.”
As a friend of mine said, that scene made a lot of teenage boys’ hearts beat faster than they should have!
In 1982, Phoebe shared her thoughts on acting. “In this business, if a girl wants a career, she has to be willing to strip. If you’ve got a good body, then why not show it?” she said.
“Fast Times at Ridgemont High” had an impressive cast, including future stars like Sean Penn, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Eric Stoltz, and Forest Whitaker.
Jennifer Jason Leigh reflected on the film, saying, “Well, it was a funny thing because we were all so young when we made it. Then it came out and was this big hit. You’d go to the theater, and people would say the lines along with it. People had obviously seen the movie over and over again,” she told The Daily News.
Later on, Phoebe continued working in theater and starred in “Private School” as Christine Ramsey in 1983. She also co-starred in Steven Spielberg’s “Gremlins” in 1984.
Phoebe met Kevin Kline, a well-known theater actor, while auditioning for the 1983 film “The Big Chill.” Although she didn’t get the role, she did meet her future husband.
Kevin was 16 years older than Phoebe, but they didn’t start dating until two years after they first met. Kevin hired Phoebe’s former assistant and asked for help to ask Phoebe out.
In 1989, Phoebe Cates and Kevin Kline got married in New York City when she was 25 and he was 41. They had their first child, Owen Joseph, in 1991 and their daughter, Greta Simone, in 1994.
By 2017, the couple had been married for 27 years, and many people wondered how they stayed so happy together for so long. “We take care of the marriage,” Kline said.
Although Phoebe was successful, she decided to step away from acting after having their children. In the 1990s, she gradually left the entertainment industry.
In 1998, Phoebe told Playboy that she and her husband had agreed to alternate their acting jobs so that their children would always have one parent at home.
Kevin Kline mentioned that even when it was Phoebe Cates’ turn to work, she often chose to stay home with their children. Although she did some acting occasionally, she was more often seen with her husband at red-carpet events, as he continued acting regularly.
In 2005, Phoebe opened a store called Blue Tree near Carnegie Hall. The store sells fragrances, clothing, and gifts.
Phoebe dedicated herself to running the store full-time, often working there personally or searching for new products to sell. Today, you can visit her store at 1283 Madison Avenue in New York City, located on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, where she also lives.
And just so you know, Phoebe still looks amazing!
What do you think of when you hear Phoebe Cates’ name? I always thought she was a pretty good actress, but the first things that come to mind are her shower scene in the cave in “Paradise” and the bikini scene in “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.”
I Opened My Garage to a Homeless Woman—You Won’t Believe What I Found When I Walked In Unannounced
When a rich man, who feels emotionally distant, gives shelter to Lexi, a homeless woman, he becomes intrigued by her strength. Their unexpected friendship starts to grow—until one day he walks into his garage without knocking and finds something shocking. Who is Lexi really, and what is she hiding?
I had everything money could buy: a big house, fancy cars, and more wealth than I could ever use in a lifetime. Yet, inside, I felt an emptiness I couldn’t fill.
I had never had a family since women always seemed to want me only for the money I got from my parents. At sixty-one, I often wished I had made different choices.
I tapped the steering wheel absentmindedly, trying to shake off the familiar weight on my chest. That’s when I spotted a messy woman bent over a trash can.
I slowed the car, unsure why I even bothered. People like her were everywhere, right? But there was something about the way she moved, her thin arms digging through the garbage with a grim determination that tugged at something inside me.
She looked fragile but fierce, like she was holding on to life by sheer willpower.
Before I knew it, I had pulled over. The engine hummed as I rolled down the window, watching her from the safety of my car.
She looked up, startled. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she might run. But she didn’t. Instead, she straightened up, brushing her hands on her faded jeans.
“Do you need some help?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to me. I wasn’t the kind of person to talk to strangers or invite trouble into my life.
“You offering?” There was a sharpness in her voice, but also a tiredness, like she’d heard every empty promise before.
“I don’t know.” The words tumbled out before I could think. I stepped out of the car. “I just saw you there, and it didn’t seem right.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze fixed on mine. “What’s not right is life.” She let out a bitter laugh. “And cheating, no-good husbands in particular. But you don’t seem like someone who knows much about that.”
I winced, even though I knew she was right.
“Maybe not.” I paused, unsure how to continue. “Do you have a place to go tonight?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting away for a second before locking back onto mine. “No.”
The word hung in the air between us. That was all I needed to hear.
“Look, I have a garage. It’s more like a guest house. You could stay there until you get back on your feet.”
I expected her to laugh in my face, to tell me to go away. But instead, she blinked at me, the edges of her tough exterior starting to crack.
“I don’t take charity,” she said, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable.
“It’s not charity,” I replied, though I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. “It’s just a place to stay. No strings attached.”
“Okay. Just for a night,” she replied. “I’m Lexi, by the way.”
The drive back to my house was quiet. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her arms wrapped around herself like a shield.
When we arrived, I led her to the garage-turned-guest-house. It wasn’t fancy, but it was enough for someone to live in.
“You can stay here,” I said, pointing to the small space. “There’s food in the fridge, too.”
“Thanks,” she muttered.
Over the next few days, Lexi stayed in the garage, but we saw each other for meals. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about her pulled at me.
Maybe it was how she kept going despite everything life threw at her, or perhaps the loneliness in her eyes, which mirrored my own. Maybe it was just the simple fact that I didn’t feel so alone anymore.
One night, as we sat across from each other at dinner, she began to open up.
“I used to be an artist,” she said softly. “Well, I tried to be. I had a small gallery, a few shows… but it all fell apart.”
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Life happened. My husband left me for a younger woman he got pregnant and kicked me out. My whole life unraveled after that.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
She shrugged. “It’s in the past.”
But I could tell it wasn’t, not really. The pain was still there, just below the surface. I knew that feeling all too well.
As the days passed, I found myself looking forward to our conversations.
Lexi had a sharp wit and a biting sense of humor that cut through the gloom of my empty house. Slowly, the hollow space inside me seemed to shrink.
It all changed one afternoon. I had been rushing around, trying to find the air pump for one of my cars. I barged into the garage without knocking, expecting to grab it quickly and leave. But what I saw stopped me cold.
There, spread across the floor, were dozens of paintings. Of me.
Or rather, grotesque versions of me. One painting showed me with chains around my neck, another with blood pouring from my eyes. In the corner, there was one of me lying in a casket.
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. This was how she saw me? After everything I’d done for her?
I backed out of the room before she noticed me, my heart pounding.
That night, as we sat down for dinner, I couldn’t shake the images from my mind. Whenever I looked at Lexi, all I could see were those horrific portraits.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lexi,” I said, my voice tight. “What are those paintings?”
Her fork clattered to the plate. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw them,” I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm. “The paintings of me. The chains, the blood, the coffin. What the hell is that?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see those,” she stammered.
“Well, I did,” I said coldly. “Is that how you see me? As some monster?”
“No, it’s not that.” She wiped her eyes, her voice shaky. “I was just… angry. I’ve lost everything, and you have so much. It wasn’t fair, and I couldn’t help it. I needed to let it out.”
“So you painted me like a villain?” I asked sharply.
She nodded, shame etched on her face. “I’m sorry.”
I sat back, letting the silence stretch between us. I wanted to forgive her. I wanted to understand. But I couldn’t.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I said flatly.
Lexi’s eyes widened. “Wait, please—”
“No,” I interrupted. “It’s over. You need to leave.”
The next morning, I helped her pack her things and drove her to a nearby shelter. She didn’t say much, and neither did I. Before she stepped out of the car, I handed her a few hundred dollars.
She hesitated but then took the money with trembling hands.
Weeks passed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss. Not just because of the disturbing paintings, but because of what we had before. There had been warmth and connection — something I hadn’t felt in years.
Then, one day, a package arrived at my door. Inside was a painting, but this one was different. It wasn’t grotesque or twisted. It was a serene portrait of me, captured with a peace I hadn’t known I possessed.
Tucked inside the package was a note with Lexi’s name and phone number scrawled at the bottom.
My finger hovered over the call button, my heart beating faster than it had in years. Getting worked up over a phone call felt silly, but there was so much more riding on it than I wanted to admit.
I swallowed hard and hit “Call” before I could second-guess myself. It rang twice before she picked up.
“Hello?” Her voice was hesitant, like she sensed it could only be me.
I cleared my throat. “Lexi. It’s me. I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure if you’d like it. I figured I owed you something better than… those other paintings.”
“You didn’t owe me anything, Lexi. I wasn’t exactly fair to you, either.”
“You had every right to be upset.” Her voice was steadier now. “What I painted — those were things I needed to get out of me, but they weren’t really about you. You were just… there. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Lexi. I forgave you the moment I saw that painting.”
Her breath hitched. “You did?”
“I did,” I said, and I meant it. It wasn’t just the painting that had changed my mind; it was the feeling that I had let something meaningful slip away because I was too scared to face my pain. “And… well, I’ve been thinking… maybe we could start over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe we could talk. Maybe over dinner? If you’d like.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “I’d really like that.”
We made plans to meet in a few days. Lexi told me she used the money I gave her to buy new clothes and get a job. She was planning to move into an apartment when she got her first paycheck.
I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having dinner with Lexi again.
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