It was Chrissy Teigen's idea to meet at a Los Angles DIY cake-decorating studio, so she could practice making a confection for her daughter Luna's first birthday two weeks away in mid-April. It is easily the least glamorous spot on Melrose Avenue—half elementary school cafeteria and half art-class studio, with loud children covered in sticky frosting—and Teigen arrives in Le Silla thigh-high suede boots, Re/Done denim cutoffs, and a white, off-the-shoulder Esteban Cortazar blouse that trails an extra yard of fabric behind her. It looks like she has just come from a photo shoot, but, "No, it's all for you, baby," she says. "If it weren't for this interview, I'd be home, naked, watching TV."
This is the Teigen that America loves: the unfiltered 31-year-old model, entertainer, cookbook author, and wife of Grammy-winning musician John Legend who ugly-cries on live television, eats fried chicken and Fun Dip on Snapchat, shows off her stretch marks on Instagram, and cops to armpit liposuction at press events.
She also tweets exactly what she's thinking to her 5 million-plus followers, which often means sharing the parts of herself most celebrities prefer to keep out of the press. Recently, she revealed that she had postpartum depression (PPD) after Luna was born and that she was also diagnosed with anxiety, which she treats with an antidepressant.
While we cut polka dots out of gum paste and dip them in gold glitter, she says, "Every step I take feels a little shaky. It's such a weird feeling that you wouldn't know unless you have really bad anxiety…You feel like everyone is looking at you."
At the moment, they are. Paparazzi have gathered outside the studio's windows to snap photos through the glass. Fellow pastry decorators are whispering and pointing, and pretty much every employee on duty stops by our table to see if we need help. But looking every inch an energetic, toned, and tawny Martha Stewart of the Instagram age, Teigen pipes rosettes onto a two-tiered confetti cake; charms employees with stories of her bulldogs, Pippa, Puddy, and Penny; and cheerfully poses for photos with those who ask.
By the time the cake is finished, we are dusted in glitter and Teigen has a blob of teal buttercream smeared on one of her boots. She heads to a nearby sink, props her foot up, and starts rubbing at the stain with a wad of wet paper towels. "My stylist is going to love this," she says, laughing.
Here, a few highlights from our interview, in our July issue on newsstands June 20:
On the one part of her body she didn't think John ever saw: "John and I had a double date, and we were joking around, and I go, 'John's never seen my butthole.' And John says, 'Are you kidding? Every time anyone does anything doggy style, you see a butthole. I see it every time.' I was like, 'We are never doing it doggy style again.'"
On being too honest: "I'm the person who had the fake ID in high school and college, and I would show it and be like, 'I'm sorry; it's fake,' and run off. I don't know if it's way too honest or way too anxious–maybe it's a combo of both."
"I'm the person who had the fake ID in high school and college, and I would show it and be like, 'I'm sorry; it's fake,' and run off."
On expanding her family: "I would definitely adopt or have foster children. But I loved being pregnant. Maybe I should be scared [of having PPD again], but I don't know. It couldn't be any worse than it was–could it?"
On exercise: "I know I should exercise for mental reasons…I need to see Simone De La Rue; I always feel great after I see her. In L.A., there's never any fucking parking. So for someone who doesn't already love working out, nothing's selling you on it."
On the one thing she won't do: "I can't dance. I don't take choreography very well. I will twerk."
Read the full interview and see more photographs in the July issue of Marie Claire, on newsstands June 20.
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