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“I love figuring out a stranger, sitting down and learning about their loves and struggles and everything,” she says. But I’m playing a homicidal witch, so I need to look ripped.” I ask her if her body has become her temple, and she laughs. Cara is wearing the skinniest suit imaginable, from the Kooples, and a pair of Chanel trainers.“People are my jam.” due next summer, and Rihanna and her other famous besties are nowhere to be found. She tugs a cube of meat off a skewer with her teeth, offering the wink-and-grin-and-head-tilt that her thirteen million Instagram followers (that’s almost twice as many as Lady Gaga has) would recognize instantly—a selfie counterpoint to the iterative steely glamour of her fashion billboards.But Cara, according to her colleagues in both fashion and film, appears to possess gifts that her thwarted predecessors lacked.For starters, she has become the preeminent model of her era through the brazen display of personality, that thing most models are now richly paid to hide.Whereas Kate has retained an essential unknowability, Cara seems always to be declaring, “This is the real me!” The designer Erdem Moralioglu calls this her “characterful-ness,” a sort of elfin energy that animates her beauty.
Far from a rare orchid that wilts in the breath of more noxious air, Cara, simmering with life on the runway, boils over with life off it.She has been called the next Kate Moss, but the similarities begin and end at their shortish stature (for their profession, that is: both are five-eight), English background, and penchant for late nights.“I’m not sure I understand what fashion is anymore,” she says. I mean, the bubble gives you a kind of dysfunctional family. And the second you’re out of it, you’re like, What the hell just happened?” Acting has traditionally proved hostile terrain for models, and few cover girls have made successful crossings.
“Trust me,” Cara Delevingne says, once we’ve settled into a Toronto bar so dark, so thronged, that even this instantly recognizable young person dissolves into the shifting masses. Grinning and conspiratorial, all kinetic limbs and generous laughter, possessed of a demeanor that suggests that she has both seen it all and seen nothing at all, she slips so readily into familiarity that it’s hard to imagine we’ve never met before. ” Cara wants to make one thing very clear tonight: Modeling was an amuse-bouche, an hors d’oeuvre, never the main dish.She’d like to know everything about me, which is hardly the point; but it’s the point with Cara. “After turning 20 and eating Mc Donald’s all the time and drinking too much, it started to show on my stomach and on my face. Acting is and always was the thing: “The thrill of acting is making a character real. It’s being fake in front of the camera.” Cara will, she tells me in her characteristic marriage of plummy and potty-mouthed, “freak the fuck out.” The food sent down from David Chang’s restaurant upstairs is so spicy that for intervals we can do little more than smile at each other and pant happily.