Blake Lively arrives at my apartment carrying her dinner in a paper bag, dressed like a modern-day pinup. She is wearing a pair of black tuxedo shorts, a white blouse opened just enough to hint at a delicate black bra, and a pair of 5-inch Christian Louboutin heels with three straps on the front—they look like bondage Mary Janes—making her 5′10″ frame appear 7 feet tall. Her bracelets are a chic variation of spiked punk dog collars, her blonde mane is disheveled, her skin smooth and golden. At 22 years old, she looks brazen yet girlish, sexy yet sweet. She is, as usual, all smiles, with an endearing, almost puppyish enthusiasm. A bombshell of a girl, I would say Lively is like a tall, frosty glass of milk—but when you take a sip, you realize that the milk has bourbon in it. (Milk Punch, as it is known, is a delicious, distinctly Southern, sweet brunch beverage that you can consume gallons of before you realize you’re intoxicated.) We settle onto my bed, the only place in the house where we can hide from my kids.
On Lively’s first day on the set of my new film, The Private Lives of Pippa Lee—where Lively plays the young, troubled runaway Pippa Lee to Robin Wright Penn’s adult Pippa—she was exhausted, having arrived at 7 a.m. after working until 3 a.m. on the pop-culture soap-smash Gossip Girl the night before. The fact that her first scene in the movie would entail hysterical tears and a climactic fight with her bipolar mother, played by the powerful Maria Bello, seemed to faze her only slightly at the time, though internally, it seems, it was another story…
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[09] Lorraine Schwartz
   
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