She’s similarly put out by the idea that her newfound veganism—she cut out animal products last year, after educating herself about big farming practices—might make her look like just another actress masking anorexia with a righteous-sounding guise. “People keep saying to me, ‘Ginny, you were such a cheeseburger person; that was, like, your thing,’” she says over a large plate of spaghetti and “wheatballs” at a vegan-friendly Greenwich Village hole-in-the-wall. “I’m so anti body-image issues. It was always part of my identity that I would show off by eating everything. But I’ve made a decision that I could not continue to support these industries.”
[She's just not into meat: Ginnifer says that a yoga-induced epiphany is what triggered her veganism. Read about it on the Editors' Blog HERE.]
Giving up cheeseburgers isn’t the only change that Goodwin’s fourth decade of life has already brought on. There was her breakup last year with her boyfriend of more than two years, actor Chris Klein, something that was clearly a seminal event. “I’m a better person in a relationship, and I’m a happier person,” Goodwin says. “I need to come home at the end of the day and have it not be about me and my freaking hair and makeup and character motivations anymore. And I think my work is more inspired when home is safe and sound and solid, because what I do for a living is so bananas and so insecure.”
Shortly after the split, she purchased her first home, a 90-year-old house in a historically protected section of L.A. Restoring it has become her No. 1 priority: “I’m in a relationship with this house right now. I’m in love with it. I plan to be here a long time. I assume it’s where I’ll get married—I’ll only marry a fella who loves the house like I do—and have my first child.”
Until that time, though, the most obvious spot for a nursery is the site of an enormous closet—a good thing, since the last year has also seen Goodwin turn into something of a fashion plate. “Some actress in years past converted this room into, like, a Sex and the City dream closet,” she says. “I’ve never been that kind of girl, but I’m loving it.” Goodwin is now a fixture in the tabloids’ weekly best-dressed roundups, but her road there was fraught. She recalls a day in junior high when students were supposed to dress up as one of their classmates: “One of the girls showed up looking like a bag lady; nothing remotely matched. I asked her who she was, and she said she was me.” Since that time, Goodwin has parted ways with a couple of stylists who “dolled me up to look like someone else,” before finding her current guru, Penny Lovell, who allows Goodwin to indulge her love of coming home from the flea market with trash bags full of cheap frocks, provided that she has them tailored. “This used to be a huge muumuu,” she says, gesturing to the perfectly fitted brown patterned vintage dress she’s sporting.
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