PHOTOSHOOT
INTERVIEW
Do you know The Birthday Book?’ asks Dakota Johnson. She is sitting at a candlelit table; blue eyes inquisitive, fringe so expertly grazing her eyebrows that its maintenance looks like a full-time job. ‘It’s this huge book that goes through every day of the year and tells you about yourself, and other people born on your birthday. I was born on the Day of the Incorrigibles,’ she says. ‘And I’m like, That makes sense.’
We’ve been inside at Shutters on the Beach for an hour, the winter sun just setting over the Santa Monica sand. Johnson was late – something to do with talking to Andrew Garfield and the LA traffic – and I was recovering from a party the night before, so we started by addressing each of our needs.
‘We should probably order fries because you’re hungover,’ she says, after getting a tea for herself. She holds the warm drink in her hands while she explains more about what kind of person she is, the essence of which can apparently be traced to October 4, 1989, the day she was born. For one thing, she baulks at authority. ‘I do not like stupid rules, like rules for rules’ sake. Or people implementing rules because they’re seeking power,’ she says firmly. ‘If a chair is marked “Do not sit here” I’m like, “Why the f*ck not?” I don’t know where this came from and why it got so bad,’ she says, shaking her head.
