At 10 in the morning on one of those rainy autumn days in New York when even the most vulgarly large umbrella can't protect you below the knees, Renée Zellweger has already been wearing a pair of runway-height Jimmy Choos—leather soles propped up on toothpicks, really—for four hours. After taping Letterman the previous evening and spending a good while outside with the paparazzi, Zellweger got what no doctor would call a good night’s sleep, then teetered through a suite of morning talk shows before returning to the tea salon at the Ritz-Carlton for a chat until the car arrives to whisk her off to a charity lunch.
“It’s been crazy. It’s been very, very, very, very crazy,” she says, rounding her lips into the signature pucker that indicates she’s having a thought. “With moments of hilarity," she adds, smiling, “just because of how ridiculous the scenarios of my life can be.”
This only two days after Zellweger returned from an international tour for Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, in which she offered her squinty-eyed smile to the camera in 10 different countries over 10 days. “I honestly can’t even remember all the countries I went to,” she says. “Your body doesn’t quite register that you’re supposed to eat at a certain time, or that it’s time to sleep. It gets pretty silly. But you don’t fight it, and you don’t ask questions after a while. You just kind of let it happen to you.”
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