Eva Mendes hands me her cell phone and points to a photo. “Who is that nut?” she asks, as we talk in a courtyard of the historic Paramour Mansion estate in the Silver Lake area of Los Angeles.
She is still wearing the black rosary bead-style necklace that she modeled in The Edit’s shoot 15 minutes earlier, with a demure sleeveless dress from her own closet. Mendes dismisses it as “my hangout house dress”, though it is far more elegant than that. Then again, the 39-year-old actress could wear anything and still be off-the-radar beautiful. It is virtually impossible to hold a conversation with her without getting caught in the tractor-beam pull of her expressive brown eyes.
But the photo on her cell phone carries none of that appeal. “Look at her!” Mendes says, stabbing at the image of a heavy-browed woman. “She’s insane!” she adds with pride, for the crazy woman in the picture is Mendes herself, having muted her La Dolce Vita looks with what she calls “a light