Helen Fielding is thrilled with her. “Bridget’s very human, which is why women respond to her. She is not one of those women like Liz Hurley, who never have a bad-hair day. Renée is the kind of actress who can look ordinary sometimes and quite beautiful at others, like most of us in real life.” When Bridget takes a ride in Daniel Cleaver’s sports car, Fielding recalls, “she drives off looking like Grace Kelly and, of course, loses her scarf so she ends up looking like Lenny the Lion.”
Meanwhile, here we are at Balmain, and Zellweger is beaming. Zellweger is radiant. Zellweger is as slender as a stick of spaghetti in a knockout cream outfit that skims her tiny waist. It’s Chanel couture, dazzling on the runway only a few hours ago; Vogue picked it out for her the minute the show was over. In a frenzied fit of fashion forwardness, Karl Lagerfeld’s Chanel show brilliantly reinvented the suit for spring 2001, by the genius masterstroke of tucking the jackets inside the skirts. It’s so genius (and it looks so fabulous on her) that Zellweger can’t stop marveling at the exquisite construction that holds the two parts together. (Later, she unbuttons the skirt panel to show me how it’s crafted. “Look, it’s so fantastic, this part holds the jacket part down,” she says. “So no matter how you move, it moves with you, and it makes you look skinny.” Skinny? Zellweger’s tummy is flat as a plank. Her couture-size body is tightly muscled and lean. Where in hell is the weight she packed on for Bridget Jones? Fifteen pounds? “Twenty!” says Zellweger sweetly. “But I lost it already.”)
She’s seated between two gloriously coiffed ladies, Deeda Blair and Patricia Altschul (both longtime de la Renta fans). The two big hairdos bend toward her, talking animatedly, pointing at various outfits on the runway, and checking numbers in the program. They seem mesmerized by her. Partly, I imagine, because of the stardust that surrounds her; partly because Renée Zellweger is one of the most instantaneously friendly people on the planet, with a sweetness that makes you want to please her. And partly, of course, because she looks so knockout in that Chanel. I know, I know—a woman’s worth is measured by more than the sum of her wardrobe, but clothes like these are so powerful they’re practically magnetic. And anyway, wearing a fabulous outfit doesn’t exactly rot the human brain, does it? (When I ask Mrs. Blair what they’d been talking about, she says, “Architecture!”—about which Zellweger is “so knowledgeable!” So there. Oh—and her “exquisite Manolo Blahnik shoes!”)
Original Source: Read More Here