The 7 Most Ridiculous Things in Vogue's Blake Lively Profile

Lively has a tendency toward deadpan humor, often delivered with a laconic stare that can make it difficult to figure out whether she is joking or not. “When I say something funny, I don’t laugh,” she says, “so my friends are always like, ‘Hahahahaaaa!’ so people know. When I’m not with them, I always think, This person doesn’t know I’m funny; they just think I’m a jerk.”

She stares at me with a look that says, Really? It came highly recommended, I say. “By whom,” she asks, “someone who hates us?” It takes a second for me to get that she’s kidding (I think). A waiter approaches us to ask if we’d like to start with something to drink. “Can I have the French onion soup to drink?” says Lively. “I’m sorry?” says the waiter. “See what happens?” Lively says to me. “You have to be my laugh track.”

“With the bow-tie story,” she says, “I think by shifting into the first person, he would be able to make it a lot more personal . . . that authentic, sort of flawed voice that we’ve been trying to accomplish. I was a little liberal with my revisions. But the humor was already there, so I just went with it.” She flips through the pile of manuscripts in her lap, turning to a different piece. “I think the writer should just scrap it and start over. Because this guy’s work is beautiful . . . but what’s the story? Why bags? Why leather? Why the European military influence?” She pauses for a moment. “And one small thing, which shows up in every piece: the word things. My dad was an English professor. There’s always a more eloquent, descriptive word.”

Stewart also acted as a fairy godmother, watching over Blake and Ryan’s wedding. “Our wedding was becoming a disaster, and we didn’t know what to do, so we called Martha! She said, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.’ She sent her team down to save us. And then she called her friends who have a home in South Carolina and set us up at the most amazing getaway. This is the day of our wedding!”

Florence Welch was singing at the reception, and they brought out these sparklers, and I’m watching her sing. I look down and my wedding dress has a big burn mark from one of the sparklers. Right on the front! And it was just so heartbreaking to me. And later, my dress was hanging up and Ryan said, ‘Isn’t that beautiful?’ I said, ‘What?’ And he pointed to the burn. My heart just stopped, because it was such a sensitive little subject. And he said, ‘You’ll always remember that moment with Florence singing and the sparklers. You have that forever, right there, preserved.’ Now that’s my favorite part of the dress.”

“I felt like I had atrophied in a way. We had to produce so many episodes so quickly. And when you’re working fifteen-hour days, ten months a year, the only time you have for real life is between takes. So you’re not really acting anymore. You’re reciting. I could have fought harder and made Gossip Girl something different, but I also needed to have a life, you know? So I wanted a break to figure things out.” Here she slips into a faux-dreamy voice. “What type of prostitute will I play next? Will it be a Wild West prostitute? A prostitute in the future?” She laughs.

Lively herself is often drawn to women of “age and depth and experience.” Not long ago, for instance, Burstyn stayed in Lively’s guesthouse for the weekend. “She’s made what was an old barn into the most beautifully converted old barn in the world,” says Burstyn.

Lively also lights up when she talks about recently meeting Jane Fonda—whom she seemed to be channeling at the CFDA Fashion Awards, with her bouffant, hoop earrings, and gilded minidress. “I said to Ryan, ‘Darling, I made a new friend.’ And he’s like, ‘You only make friends with senior citizens!’  ” Why do you think that is? I ask her. “Young people try to heighten their experiences, and I do it, too: This is what makes me interesting. But Jane Fonda is quiet. You know how interesting she is. It’s who she is in every fiber.”

“He’s going to be a great father and leader and patriarch—he’s so meant to be all of those things.

She explains that she is like a perpetual growing boy: always hungry. “You know that old saying, A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach—that’s me.”

Next she orders an eggs-and-sausage feast from room service, which we spread out on the coffee table and promptly devour. How this girl keeps her curves in the right places is a mystery to be solved by another writer.