Rafael Nadal - Strung In Style

After fighting his way to tennis's number-one spot, Rafael Nadal is discovering in his own time that it can be lonely at the top.

"Vamos, Rafa!" The crowd roars as a dashing floodlit figure serves an ace. It is round one of the Sony Ericsson Open in Miami, a tournament sometimes referred to as the fifth Grand Slam. After the player beats his opponent, he stops by the camera that has been broadcasting his actions in real time and signs the lens with a Sharpie. All that is left is his autograph, a grand flourish blown up on vast screens across the stadium.

The Spanish tennis sensation Rafael Nadal has been described as "swashbuckling" more often than Errol Flynn. You might think this a mere national stereotype, but the 23-year-old Majorcan's dynamic, unorthodox style, his combination of brutal efficiency and unearthly stamina, and the dastardly aim of his forehand have all led his matches to be described, even in Spain, as "duels."

He is also, as might befit an old-world swordsman, gracious in victory. When he won the Australian Open final against Roger Federer in February, cementing his prowess on all three Grand Slam surfaces (not to mention his status as the number-one player in the world), he stood by uncomfortably as Federer wept at the microphone. After Nadal put his arm around the Swiss champion's shoulder and Federer returned to the mike, emboldened, to congratulate him, Nadal apologized for winning and called Federer one of the best players in history.

So it is with great curiosity that I go down to Miami to meet Rafa, as he is affectionately known. I am intrigued to see who is behind the animal on the court and the young gentleman at the podium. My first close-up glimpse of him comes at a press conference after that first match, in which he neatly dispatches Teimuraz Gabashvili, 6-2, 6-2. As expected, Nadal is sweet and rather awkward, answering questions modestly in English and Spanish. He enjoys the support of Latinos here, he says. The only thing that's tough about having so many fans, he explains, is that he can't sign autographs for everyone, and he'd like to.

Then he's asked if he prefers to play in the day or at night. This is met with a pure, straight-faced statement of the obvious: "I prefer to play well."

Afterward, his ever-present publicist, Benito Pérez-Barbadillo, introduces me to him in preparation for our interview. Nadal shakes my hand, pats me on the shoulder, and says, "Encantado." He is relaxed, charming, and, at six foot one, taller than I expected. Little do I know that this is the last time I will speak to him for the next five days.

One of the reasons it's hard to get close to Nadal, I soon discover, is that he is fiercely protected by his team, mostly made up of family members. His uncle and coach, the former professional tennis player Toni Nadal, rarely leaves his side; the same goes for his father, Sebastian; and then there is his uncle Miguel Ángel Nadal, a famously aggressive soccer player who is still known as "the Beast of Barcelona." When they are together, they speak Mallorquín, a brash, fast, guttural language that is an obscure dialect of Catalan.

If the Williams sisters grew up playing on the gang-ridden tarmac of L.A., Nadal was groomed to be great on the earth of Majorca. (Although there was a time when the Spanish newspaper El Mundo wondered rhetorically whether there might be a "Planet Nadal," a place where "babies don't play with dolls but rackets, muscle grows before bone, courage is learned before speech.")

When he was a little boy, his uncle Toni told his now-agent Carlos Costa, "I have a six-year-old nephew who's going to be a very good player." It was six years before Costa finally saw Nadal play. "He was twelve, and the qualities you saw in him then were strength of character, tenacity; he was a winner and a fighter. And in his head, there was a real desire to be number one." Costa took him on when Nadal turned fifteen.

Since then Nadal has racked up so many records it's almost hard to keep count. Long acknowledged as the "King of Clay," he possesses the longest single-surface winning streak in the Open era. (His lock on the French Open recently prompted Roger Federer to say, "I don't think the clay has been my problem. My problem has been Rafa on clay.") Since winning their history-making five-set Wimbledon match last year, Nadal has seemed nearly untouchable. And in February, he became the first Spaniard to win the Australian Open, prompting speculation that he will win four Grand Slams in a single year, a feat not accomplished since Rod Laver did it in 1969. As Costa says, "Every year he wants more. Every year he trains more. He doesn't impose limits on himself. If you look at the Rafa of three years ago and Rafa as he is now, there's been a huge evolution in his tennis."

Part of Nadal's resolve seems to stem from the rigor of his training. Even though he is naturally right-handed, he was taught early on to play with his left hand, a technique that has tormented many of his opponents. Toni Nadal denies that there was anything tactical in this: "He always played with both hands. The only thing I encouraged was to play with one hand, and he had more strength in his left."

Nadal can play so strongly at times that one is tempted to think of him as a force of nature—in Australia, when other players were dropping out because of the heat; in Indian Wells, California, when the wind made the final almost unsustainable. Recently, a tennis researcher in San Francisco used video-capture technology to measure Nadal's topspin: It was found to rotate at an average of 3,200 times a minute (Federer's rotates 2,700 times, and Agassi's 1,900)—a feat that seems superhuman. "When he was young, I always made him play with bad balls," Toni Nadal explains. "The court wasn't always in great condition—all of that, even playing badly, helps you to develop. Rafael called me before the final in Indian Wells. I said, 'How's it going?' He said, 'Terrible.' Because of the wind. I said, 'Well, all the better for you, no?' Because Rafael is used to playing when things aren't going well." (Sometimes it seems like Nadal pushes himself—or is pushed—too hard. Fans have expressed concern that he is risking injury, although he and his team deny this.)

Along with the tough training came tough love. "In terms of shots, he's not a phenomenon, but he's not completely useless either," Toni Nadal says. "If he had Federer's gifts I might have chosen a different style, but I like this intense, strong style he has."

Toni points out that his nephew was raised to put up with things. "If when you're young you're permitted to do anything, then when you're older you can cause all kinds of damage. If, on the other hand, when you're small you're never allowed to so much as throw a racquet on the ground, then it's much easier to tolerate things. Rafael has always been a very disciplined player. Sometimes, if he feels like doing one thing but knows that another is the right thing to do, he can take it."

Before I can think about what's coming out of my mouth, I say, "God. Poor him." Toni seems amused. "Not at all," he replies. "He's won a few times, you know."

The next morning, I'm supposed to meet Nadal for our interview, but Benito puts me off. At lunchtime, I go to watch Nadal play Frederico Gil, who at number 70, is the highest-ranked Portuguese player in history. ("It's a very small country" is Gil's routine response to this statistic.) Rafa starts slow; he makes a surprising number of unforced errors; during breaks, his left knee jogs uncontrollably. There is a beautiful rally, at the end of which Gil puts a ball straight past him. The next time Rafa gets ready to serve, he's given a time violation. He's taking too long, thinking too much—it's excruciating.

You would think that an early-round match for the world's number-one tennis player would be plain sailing, but watching Nadal, you feel the risk in every point. He plays as if he is fighting for his life. "He gives 100 percent in every match, from the first round right up until the last," Costa says. "Others are relaxed at first, and tension kicks in later, whereas Rafa plays tensely from day one."

Nadal pulls out a victory, but it doesn't come easily, 7-5, 6-3. In the press box, old-hand tennis reporters are muttering, "Oh, yeah, he's burned."

Afterward I watch Rafa hanging around outside the locker room in a black T-shirt and khaki-colored tennis shorts, his just-showered hair falling in his face, his full frame a little hunched, like a teenager's. A very small blonde person in a Panama hat and shades comes through the corridor to greet him, accompanied by a film crew. She turns out to be Shakira, a friend and fan. They pose for photos, but as soon as the rock star leaves, Rafa returns to his sulky posture. It is as if he can already envision the lead story from The Miami Herald: "Sometimes the best player in the world doesn't look like the best player in the world."

The following day, Benito calls. He's embarrassed. Rafa played badly and is not feeling up to meeting today. He promises it will happen first thing the next morning.

Instead I make my way over to the practice court. Rafa is shirtless, sweat streaming down his front, the deep thwacking sound of his inhuman forehand filling everyone's ears. When he leaves the court, I'm behind him, which means that for once I get his view of the crowd. They gather wildly in his face; he dips his chin and plows through like a gentle bull, signing and walking, signing and walking, passing the results of his ambulatory autographs over his shoulder—a hat, a ball, a picture—without a backward glance. Behind him, the recipients fall into chaos, screaming. It occurs to me that whether shielded by his entourage or lost in the crowd, Nadal is always in his own world, just out of reach.

That night, Rafa has a late, long match against Stanislas Wawrinka ("the other Swiss"), and again the buzz is all about how off his game is. He wins, of course, but that appears to be beside the point. By now I realize that he's not just putting me off on a whim: He literally can't take his eye off the ball. In a way, his refusal to meet says far more about how he feels than he will probably ever reveal in words.

It's my fifth day in Miami, and I am supposed to finally meet Nadal at midday. Just before lunchtime, Benito calls to reschedule. Rafa will meet me at four. I am skeptical. Benito, who is missing four fingers on his right hand, says the interview will definitely happen at four, or he will cut off the fingers of his other hand. How sweet, I think. Then I wonder how he lost his fingers in the first place.

But sure enough, just after 4:00 P.M., Benito and Carlos bring Rafa to me outside the players' lounge. This time he makes no eye contact and offers no greeting. We walk upstairs, Nadal silent, eyes downcast. Benito and Carlos direct us to a couple of white leather sofas and leave. Nadal shoots me a small, shy smile, then gets distracted by the live match playing on a TV screen in front of us: Djokovic vs. Tsonga. He winces a little with the corners of his mouth (at what, I don't know; I've missed the shot), then looks back at me—open, perhaps, to a question.

We talk about what he likes to do when he's not on court. I learn that in his time off, Nadal goes home to Manacor, the town of 35,000 inhabitants where he still lives with his parents and his younger sister—or to the family's summerhouse, ten kilometers away in Porto Cristo. His friends are still the people he's known since he was four or five. He goes fishing, he plays golf, he goes to the movies; he has a girlfriend, a student in Majorca whose privacy he guards diligently. (Though she sometimes comes to his matches, he explains, "Just because I'm known for tennis doesn't mean I have to be known for anything else.") While other players have their own jets, he flies commercial. He does not know how much money he has, and doesn't appear to spend it. At home, he's not known as the world number one; he's known as "Rafalet."

I ask about his tics—arranging his water bottles in a particular order, not stepping on the lines when he walks out onto the court. They are not really superstitions, he says. They're just part of his larger pre-match ritual. He'll sleep between seven and nine hours, then have a plate of pasta for breakfast. If he's eating three hours or more before a match, he'll add some chicken or fish. Just beforehand, he always has a cold shower; then his physio, Rafael Maymo, helps him put on all his tape (at the moment his fingers are taped as well as his knees). After Nadal prepares the handles of his rackets, he listens to music on his iPod—everything from Julio Iglesias to Bon Jovi—and keeps to himself.

He won't say what he's trying to improve just now—during a tournament, you don't really train to change things, he explains—although he confesses that he'd "like to serve like Karlović, have Federer's forehand at times, or Nalbandian's backhand."

I ask him if he is driven more by the desire to win or the fear of losing. "The desire to win," he says. He always knows he can lose, even in the first round. "For example, tomorrow I'm going out into a difficult match against del Potro, and I know that if I don't play at my highest level I'm going to have practically no chance of winning." (This turns out to be prescient: He ends up losing to Juan Martín del Potro the next day in a tense quarterfinal.)

Perhaps paradoxically, Nadal says that being number one has helped to relieve the pressure. "I think I'm enjoying the game much more now than I was two years ago. Not because I'm winning more but because I think I've taken on board the tension more." Anyway, he adds, "I'm lucky enough to do what I like for work—not everyone's that fortunate."

Tennis players, of course, have a remarkably short professional shelf life. As invested as he is in the game, Nadal is already branching out, as the face of Lanvin's new cologne L'Homme Sport and as a collaborator with Nike on a new line of clothes. He is also in the early stages of establishing a philanthropic foundation, whose stated purpose is to educate underprivileged children all over the world. "I'd like to help people who don't have enough to live on," he says, then adds, "I'd like to help everyone I can."

At thirteen, Nadal had to choose between tennis and soccer (he was good at both). He says he doesn't prefer one to the other, but there is something forlorn in his assertion that soccer is more enjoyable because you practice with friends. "In tennis, you're always alone, which is more complicated. I far prefer to train with friends than alone," he says. "Doesn't everyone?"

In the time I speak to Nadal (in Spanish), he is as uncommunicative as his good upbringing will allow; he looks up when he thinks perhaps looking down or away is rude. Questions are met with expressions of very mild alarm—shrugs or a knitted brow. I have the impression that conversation is akin to confrontation for him, and that despite his zeal on the court, he doesn't enjoy it.

I wonder aloud if he enjoys competing in other areas of his life.

"No!" he says, balking at the very thought. "Not at all! I'd rather lose an argument than get into a long discussion in order to win it."

"Why?" I ask.

He laughs. "It tires me out."

"But not in tennis?"

"No."

Which leads me to ask about his most formidable, most formative rival. If Roger Federer were to stop playing, would Nadal's game suffer?

"No," he replies. "The only thing that affects me is to have played important matches against him….He's one of the greatest tennis players in history, if not the greatest. But the thing that makes you improve isn't any individual—it's the demands of the sport itself."

I ask how he felt when he saw Federer crying in Australia. "Well, a bit odd, no? I didn't really know what to do. I felt sad for him. Those are difficult moments when you're living through them, but over the years they become moments that both he and I will be able to look back on fondly—they're emotional moments."

As for his own vulnerabilities, he admits, with an embarrassed chuckle, "Being home alone at night makes me a bit nervous. If I'm at home alone I have to sleep on the sofa—I can't face going to bed. I'm there with the TV on and all the lights on. I'm not very brave about anything in life." He smiles, looks down at the floor. "In tennis, yes. In everything else, not very."

"Waiting for Rafa" has been edited for Style.com; the complete story appears in the June 2009 issue of Vogue.

Kate Beckinsale

Kathryn Bailey "Kate" Beckinsale (born 26 July 1973) is an English actress, known for her roles in the films Pearl Harbor (2001), Underworld (2003), Van Helsing (2004), and The Aviator (2004). Her first major American film, Brokedown Palace (1999), was not a commercial success. Soon after, Beckinsale was cast in the 2001 film Pearl Harbor as the female lead, after actress Charlize Theron turned down the part. The film was one of the highest grossing films of its year. In the years following, she appeared in a series of American films that were high-profile, but were given a somewhat poor critical reception, including Serendipity (2001), Underworld (2003) and Van Helsing (2004). In 2005, she portrayed Ava Gardner in Martin Scorsese's The Aviator, a role for which she gained 20 pounds.

In 2006, Beckinsale was placed at #23 in FHM's "100 Sexiest Women in the World", after being #71 in 2005. She has also been placed at #16 in Maxim's "HOT 100" (2003), #63 in Stuff's "100 Sexiest Women in the World" (2002), and was chosen by the English magazine Hello! as "England’s #1 Beauty", also in 2002. Beckinsale and her ex-boyfriend Michael Sheen have a daughter, Lily Mo Sheen (born 31 January 1999). She reported in interviews that during her pregnancy with Lily was the only time she has ever stopped smoking. During the Underworld shoot, Beckinsale split from Sheen, who was also starring in the film. She became involved with the director of the film, Len Wiseman. In June 2003, Beckinsale became engaged to Wiseman, and the two were married on 9 May 2004 in Bel-Air, California. She is close friends with Victoria Beckham.

HOW DO YOU STAY IN SHAPE?

I have to be dragged to the gym because I hated PE at school and would much prefer to sit down and smoke a cigarette. I don't take growth hormone pills or do eight hours of yoga a day or anything like that.

Seriously, I don't love going to the gym, but I do think it's one of those things you have to do, especially if one wants to work in this town.

ARE YOU INTERESTED IN FASHION?

Yes, I do like clothes. I prefer to be on the Best Dressed list than any other list. But the truth is it's not my goal in life.

EVER HAD A FASHION DISASTER?

Not a recent one, but I distinctively remember as a child my mother used to cut my hair. I'd move around a lot, and so I always had a lopsided fringe.

WHAT BRAND OF JEANS DO YOU WEAR? Nothing too fancy. I still like the old classic Levi's. WHAT'S IN YOUR CAPSULE WARDROBE - PIECES THAT YOU WEAR ALL THE TIME?

I love to feel comfortable, especially if I'm running after my daughter. I have an old Juicy couture tracksuit, which I wear a lot. I know it's not glamorous, but I can't seem to throw it away.

WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE BRANDS OF COSMETICS?

I love Laura Mercier's tinted moisturiser, which always gives me a good base. MAC's eyeshadow in Vanilla and Wedge are also a permanent fixture in my make-up bag. I don't tend to do much with my lips.

WHAT MAKE-UP ITEM DO YOU ALWAYS CARRY?

I always seem to carry Sponge Bob plasters in my handbag. Obviously they are Lilly's, but it turns out I'm the one who ends up needing them. I'm a bit of a klutz.

DO YOU HAVE A HAIR CARE ROUTINE?

I swear by Terax Original shampoo and conditioner - I even use them on Lilly's hair.

DO YOU HAVE A SIGNATURE SCENT?

My husband is a big fan of the Jessica Simpson Dessert line. He will literally come at me with a spoon and a fork when I wear it. It kind of smells like cake batter.

DO YOU HAVE A STYLE ICON?

I'm a big fan of the old Hollywood stars - very classic looking. I loved the way Ava Gardner dressed, very poised and feminine. I played her in The Aviator and adored wearing her beautiful fitted dresses. She was very curvaceous. I envy those curves.

IF YOU WANT TO LOOK GLAMOROUS, WHICH DESIGNER DO YOU RELY ON

You can't really go wrong with Gucci now. I always feel glamorous wearing a flowing Gucci number, no matter what kind of day.

DOES A STYLIST SHOP FOR YOU?

Oh God no! That would be very nice to have a personal shopper. I do like to shop for myself, but my attention-is usually on Lilly. When I'm in London, I love to pop into Topshop and spend a few hours browsing.

WHAT IS YOUR SKIN CARE REGIME?

My skin is particularly dry, so I make a point of drinking lots of water. For Click, I had to age up to 55 years old and they put prosthetics and glue on my face every day, which wasn't too kind to my skin. I used Clean & Clear facial cleanser to wash it all off and then applied that very expensive Natura Bisse Diamond cream.

HOW DID YOU FEEL WHEN YOU SAW A WOMAN OF 55 IN THE MIRROR?

I think at some point everybody turns into their mother or their father. It's just not normally from morning to afternoon.

And it gives you a moment of existential panic because you sit there for six whole hours and it goes on and on. They also modelled my hair on the style my mother wore at my wedding, so that was spooky

Blake Lively

Blake Lively is a starving artist. “I’m hungry. You hungry? Let’s meet at Sant Ambroeus,” she says, by way of cell phone introduction. Within minutes she’s stepping out of a taxi, an endless stream of legs and golden hair. The pint-size ristorante in New York’s West Village is, on a Saturday afternoon, predictably packed with the type of diners who are too cool to freak out about the numero uno Gossip Girl but not so jaded that they don’t notice her. Over the course of the next hour and a half, only a mother and her trembling tween daughter openly fawn over Lively. Sure, a guy at the next table chats her up, but that’s only because he really, really needs to know if he should order the eggplant appetizer that the gorgeous 21-year-old is digging into with gusto.

Considering the week she’s had, it’s easy to understand Lively’s need for a little comfort food. Five days earlier her father, actor Ernie Lively, was in a major car crash, and Lively rushed home to Los Angeles to be with him. A cascade of scheduling changes was set off by her departure: Television scenes, a magazine interview and a cozy dinner party she was planning to host in her downtown Manhattan apartment all had to be postponed. After winging back to Gotham on the red-eye, she went directly to the set at 5 a.m. Thursday and worked 16 hours. Friday was another long day of portraying perhaps the hottest senior ever to roam the hallways of the fictional Constance Billard School for Girls. Saturday kicked off with a crack-of-dawn photo shoot, and now lunch with a reporter. Still, Lively is in high spirits for the simple reason that Dad’s okay. “He’s doing great, all things considered,” she says. “It was very serious. And it’s hard to be on the other side of the country from him. I’m so used to being within 10 minutes of my family.”

A tight-knit bunch, the Lively clan also includes a talent manager mom, two older sisters and two older brothers—all of whom are connected to the entertainment industry in some manner. “My mom and dad always taught acting, so instead of getting me babysitters, they would just bring me to class,” Lively recalls. “And I’m a naturally shy person, so it really helped. I would’ve just been hiding under the table, pulling on my mother’s dress if I hadn’t been in their classes. It forced me out of my shell.” And out she stayed—Lively is warm and ultrachatty, dispensing the type of cheerful anecdotes that make clear she leads a charmed existence.

Growing up, however, she wasn’t convinced that showbiz was for her. Actually, to hear Lively tell it, her brother Eric, 27, practically forced her into her current vocation. An actor who recently had a recurring role on The L Word, he yanked his little sister out of school for two months when she was 15 and took her on a low-budget grand tour of Europe. Somewhere between Cambridge and Cologne, he told her that she should really start thinking seriously about an acting career. “He was trying to get me to make life decisions at 15!” she says with a laugh. An AP student who was also a cheerleader, class president and a member of “show choir” (a mash-up of singing and dancing in which Bon Jovi tunes figured prominently), she told him she was more interested in attending Stanford University than movie premieres. But a year later Eric secretly contacted his agent about her anyway. “I was really busy at school,” she says, “and I would have these agents calling and saying, ‘We have an appointment for you.’ It was really hard to say no, because I didn’t want to make my brother upset.”

After just a few months of auditions, she nabbed the part of Bridget in 2005’s The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, which she filmed between her junior and senior years at Burbank High, and decided that maybe acting wasn’t a bad way to spend her days. Since graduation she’s been working nonstop, appearing in a couple of small, largely forgettable movies before being cast as Serena van der Woodsen in Gossip Girl last year. “I’ve been learning as I’m going along,” she says of her ad hoc career strategy. “I thought, Okay, I’ll try a movie. And I was loving films, so I thought, No, I don’t want to try TV. But now I’m loving being on the show more than I ever could have imagined. It has been just the most amazing experience anybody could ever ask for. It’s such a blessing.”

Stanford, clearly, is not in her immediate future—she’s committed to at least six seasons of the series—but Lively says she hasn’t altogether shelved the idea of getting a college education. She claims, in fact, that the possibility of attending Columbia University one day a week was a motivating factor behind accepting the role on the show, which is shot in New York. So far, however, she hasn’t enrolled in any classes, and Gossip Girl executive producers Josh Schwartz and Stephanie Savage maintain that, while the subject of college did come up during their initial conversations with Lively, the young actress also had less cerebral reasons for wanting to play the über glamorous Serena. “I think the real carrot for Blake was the opportunity for clothing,” Schwartz says, chuckling. “I remember talking to her about that. She was like, ‘Wait, so you’re asking me to move to New York and wear the most incredible clothes, some of which you might actually let me keep?’ So I think the wardrobe-reinvention carrot was stronger than the college-degree carrot.”

He might be on to something. Lively doesn’t even attempt to hide her glee at all the freebies foisted upon her, from designer dresses and diamond bangles to an utterly insane number of pricey purses. “I probably have, like, 60 gorgeous bags,” she says. “I have a closet with my really sharp, fancy, nice ones—the ones that go with my Valentino pumps, for example. And then I have a closet with the ones that are a little more rugged-feeling, the kind that go with my Belstaff motorcycle boots.”

And besides, Lively did recently get to visit Columbia—albeit to shoot an episode of the show. The university (thinly disguised as Yale) was the setting for a brutal smack-down between Serena and Blair Waldorf (Leighton Meester), the arch-frenemy with whom she rules the Gossip Girl roost. To prep for the slapfest, Schwartz and Savage had the actresses watch the catfight between Shirley MacLaine and Anne Bancroft in the 1977 film The Turning Point. “That’s what they wanted our fight to be like,” Lively says. “Beating each other with handbags.”

Over-the-top scenes like these are part of what has made Gossip Girl both a guilty pleasure for old geezers and must-see TV for the under-25 set. Based on a young-adult book series by Cecily von Ziegesar, the show provides a fly-on-the-wall peek into the debauched lives of moneyed Upper East Side private school kids. It’s fast-paced, wildly inappropriate (think drug overdoses and back-of-limo deflowerings) and frequently hilarious. And after just a season and a half, every major cast member—in addition to Lively and Meester, there are Taylor Momsen, Chace Crawford, Ed Westwick and Penn Badgley—has become tabloid fodder.

The real-life romance between Lively and Badgley, who plays her ex-boyfriend Dan Humphrey on the show, generates the most chatter—all of which Lively categorically refuses to address. But there are also plenty of gossip-rag mentions of tension between the show’s two queen bees, which Lively very much denies. “I’ve never really had a competitive relationship in any work situation,” she insists when asked about her allegedly contentious dealings with Meester. “The media is always trying to pit us against each other, I guess because it’s just not interesting to say, ‘Everyone gets along; everybody just works 18-hour days and goes home to sleep.’ That’s not fun to read, I guess.”

If a recent visit to the Gossip Girl set is any indication, Lively is telling the truth. The comely costars seem to get along just fine, chatting politely between takes about the best way to stage their scene. Serena is meant to be lounging on Blair’s bed while Blair marches out of her massive walk-in closet carrying a pile of shoes. As Blair decides on the perfect footwear to go with her gazillion-dollar outfit, the discussion centers on why Serena hasn’t “done it” yet with her new, post-Dan boyfriend. His name is Aaron, and he’s both kind and, to use Gossip Girl parlance, “doable,” much like Dan.

Prior to the first run-through, Lively is locked in a nose-to-nose nuzzle with Penny, her sweater-clad Maltipoo, which she regularly brings to work. Propped on a mountain of satin pillows, she uses the setting to her full advantage, tucking her iPhone under the duvet so she can check it between takes. Her script, which she scans until the last possible nanosecond, hides there too once the cameras get rolling.

Lively and Meester hammer out a few crucial details before the director cues the action, including the precise moment when Serena should look up from painting her nails and cop to the shame of not sleeping with a guy she barely knows. Should it happen after “exactly” but before “like”? Or would the drama be heightened if it happened after “like”? The whole thing sounds ridiculously frothy, and it is. But it’s also a lot of work for a scene that runs two minutes, tops. According to Savage, the cast is expected to chew through a 55-page script every eight days. Luckily Lively is a quick study. She has to be, considering she doesn’t get her lines until the night before shooting. “You get used to it,” she says. “I can read a four-page scene once and have it memorized. It’s a skill you learn in school: disposable cramming. We’re flying by the seat of our pants a lot of times, which is why I enjoy doing films. It’s a change of pace. It sounds cheesy, but with a film, you get to let each scene marinate.”

In addition to The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, which was released this past August (and by late October had grossed $44 million, already outpacing Pants 1), Lively has two indies in the can. There’s Elvis and Anabelle, in which she plays a bulimic Texas beauty queen alongside Max Minghella, Keith Carradine, Mary Steenburgen and Joe Mantegna. And in June she wrapped The Private Lives of Pippa Lee, written and directed by Rebecca Miller. Lively plays young Pippa—a drug user–turned–stay-at-home mom—while Robin Wright Penn tackles the middle-aged version opposite Alan Arkin, Julianne Moore and Winona Ryder. The movie will be showing on the festival circuit starting early next year.

Along with braving a hideous spray tan and scary pageant hair, Lively shed serious weight from her “five nine and three-quarters” frame for Elvis and Anabelle. “I play a beauty queen who died of bulimia,” she says. “But beauty queens are still very toned. So I lost weight, but I got toned. It was the healthiest I’ve ever been. I just made chicken breasts from Whole Foods on a George Foreman Grill, with asparagus and broccoli.” Not an easy task for someone who describes food as “the No. 1 love of my life.”

Of the main Gossip Girl cast, many of whom have been dabbling in film when the show is on hiatus, Lively seems to be winning the high-profile movie-role race. (While both Badgley and Crawford have new movies this year—the rugby flick Forever Strong and the horrorfest The Haunting of Molly Hartley, respectively—neither boasts a starry cast or a heavyweight director.) And Lively’s smart enough, and gracious enough, to publicly pinch herself for her good fortune. She even sounds a little starstruck, as when she describes Moore as “one of the kindest human beings” she’s ever met or when she rhapsodizes over Wright Penn’s effortless ability to slip into character. “Getting to work alongside that caliber of talent was just mind-blowing,” she says of the Pippa ensemble. So much so that Lively says she felt, at times, like an impostor. “I thought that one day Rebecca was just going to catch on.”

In Miller’s opinion, Lively needn’t have worried. “She is brilliant in the film,” says the writer-director. “Blake could be a real star in the making, the way Jessica Lange has been. She has depth, and she is disarmingly lovely.”

And in an era of starlets gone wild, Lively is even borderline geeky. At certain points, like when she’s recounting an elaborate Twenties-theme fete she threw for her last birthday (“Michael Bublé came!” she enthuses, referring to the young Sinatra manqué beloved by baby boomers), Lively can sound like a 50-year-old woman trapped in a hot young body. “I don’t really like to go out,” she says. “I’ll go listen to live jazz, but the club scene isn’t so fun for me.” Instead, her idea of a good time is scouring Williams-Sonoma for acorn-shaped tart pans and crème brûlée torches—both of which may be put to use in preparing for the aforementioned dinner party, now scheduled for tomorrow night. It’s a far cry from the boozy party girl she plays on TV. Ever diligent, Lively plans to get cooking directly after her interview. “I’m exhausted,” she admits with a yawn. “But I have to go home and bake.”

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Velvet Rian Dress

This Rian Dress showcases Velvet's trademark flattering chic. This sleeveless little number has a V-neck in front and back with pulled-through knot detail at the center. The vintagey floral print has an old-world vibe that gains modernity through the ruched silhouette.95% rayon, 5% spandexMade in the U.S.A.Color: Black33" longMeasured on a size small, dimensions may vary with size.Julie is wearing a size small.