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Fab at every age: LARA STONE

Lara Stone Alcoholism

The supermodel—and now super mother—has an allure that’s goddess given. Plus see the cover shoot with the model and her sultriest red carpet looks.

Lara Stone looks like she’s on the verge—her eyes narrow and focused, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed. On the verge of what, though, isn’t clear. “That’s just the way my face looks,” she says as we munch on french fries and mayonnaise in the dimly lit lobby of London’s Edition hotel. “I haven’t got a naturally smiley face. But then there are some people who have really friendly faces, even when they’re pissed off, and I imagine that would be more annoying.”

Stone, who turned 30 in December, has lots of reasons to be happy. She is one of the most highly paid, in-demand models working today, having enjoyed lucrative endorsement deals with Calvin Klein, Prada, Versace, and, most recently, L’Oréal. Her career, however, didn’t take off until she was already in her 20s—middle-aged in the modeling business—after she had toiled away doing catalog work for the better part of a decade. It was only in 2006, when Givenchy’s Riccardo Tisci cast her in his haute couture show and powerhouse stylist Carine Roitfeld (now Bazaar’s global fashion director) took notice, that the fashion industry began to embrace her. “I love Lara’s beauty, sophistication, and complexity,” swoons Calvin Klein designer Francisco Costa. Adds Tisci: “When Lara turned up unexpectedly at a casting, I knew straightaway that I was looking at a new icon. I’m so happy to see where she is today, so strong. Nothing can stand in her way.”

Stone’s allure is simple. She is, as Tisci calls her, a “Gothic Brigitte Bardot,” a sexpot whose figure and demeanor fulfill Mae West’s adage “Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.” When I tell Stone about a Web site that lists the reasons some models are famous—in her case, it simply says “body, breasts, teeth”—she smirks. “Well, they’re right,” she says, flashing her trademark gap-toothed grin. “But I’d put it in the reverse order: teeth, boobs, body,” she adds. “I think it’s strange for people to talk endlessly about this stuff. I’ve seen bigger gaps than mine, for the record. And bigger boobs.” Asked how she feels about bringing bodacious back, she’s at a loss for words. “They’re just there,” she says, pointing to her breasts, concealed today under a thick layer of black cashmere. “What else is there to say?”

Those breasts have been a topic of conversation since the Dutch-born Stone hit puberty. After a blissful childhood in Mierlo, a small town in the south of Holland (“I played in the street, climbed trees; it was relaxed and perfect”), she matured early and went through a rebellious phase, getting expelled from school at 16. “I wore crop tops and miniskirts, and all I would do is put on makeup,” she recalls. “They threatened to kick me out every week, and in the end my mother got sick of them calling her and said if they threatened one more time, they’d better do it. So they did.”

Stone, who had been scouted on the Paris Métro while on a family holiday when she was 14, decided to move to the fashion capital and try her hand at modeling. She lived in an apartment with 10 other girls and skated by doing jobs in secondary markets until she got her big break at 22. Eight years and countless major covers, campaigns, and contracts later, she is still refreshingly awed by how her life has changed since then. “When I stop and think about it—which I don’t do very often—I think, This doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “I look around and see thousands of girls who could have had this career.” She mentions that when Christy Turlington e-mailed her earlier that week, “I actually blushed when I saw her name in my in-box.”

Nevertheless, Stone’s rise hasn’t been without hurdles. In 2009, she checked herself into rehab after the job’s many solitary moments, constant travel, and endless swirl of parties landed her in a position where she was never lacking for a cocktail. She remembers keeping a bottle of vodka stashed away in her handbag during Fashion Week, just in case. “One day I woke up and thought, I can’t live like this anymore,” she says, admitting that she could become particularly aggressive after one too many drinks. “I’ve picked a lot of fights in my day,” she notes. “But no one ever wanted to hit me back.”

Stone searched the Internet for a place to dry out, and eventually settled on an oceanfront facility in South Africa. “In my head I wasn’t going to rehab,” she says. “I was going there to not drink for a month—and then I’d come back and start drinking again. I thought it’d be a holiday, and I’d sit on the beach and chill. But once I got there it was a bit different. I had to talk about my feelings and play the bongos.” Since then, she has also quit smoking, although she still allows herself a few vices, like the jar of Dutch licorice she keeps on her nightstand. “I have an espresso machine next to my bed now too,” she says. “It was David’s moving-in present.” David is Stone’s husband of nearly four years, the British comedian David Walliams. In 2010, Stone wore a Givenchy gown when they married at Claridge’s hotel, making them London’s newest celebrity couple—and also a prime paparazzi target. “I don’t enjoy being photographed walking down the street,” Stone says, although she acknowledges that she isn’t above enjoying tabloids herself. “I’m obsessed with the Daily Mail’s Web site,” she confesses. “David and I have been on it a few times, and I will read things about us that are completely bullshit. But,” she adds, “I’m convinced that everything about everyone else is true!” She has even ventured into the comments section. “Once, there was only one comment: ‘Looks like a duck,’ ” she says. “That was it. To take the time out of your life to say I look like a duck? That’s brilliant.”

Stone shares what she calls a “mean” sense of humor with her husband. “On our very first date, I was so nervous,” she says. “I was in the cab home afterward and thought, I should text him and thank him for dinner. When I did, he texted back, ‘Who’s this?’ ” The couple welcomed their first child, son Alfred, in May of last year. According to Stone, Walliams isn’t afraid of changing nappies, and likes to read children’s stories aloud in character voices. “Just one look and he can put me and Alfred in hysterics,” she says. Turning 30, though, was another matter. “I’ve only been able to say it out loud for a few weeks now: ‘I. Am. 30,’ ” she says. “Maybe I have age dysmorphia. I know I’m young, but I feel so old.” Or maybe, after her turbulent 20s, Stone has finally found a kind of stability.

“I have a house, a husband, a good job, a beautiful baby—at the moment I don’t have anything else to wish for.” Then we discover what Stone has been on the verge of this whole time: a smile. “Yuck,” she says. “How soppy is that?”

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