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Behind Lindsay Lohan's party-fuelled lifestyle and headline-grabbing liasons, there lies a soul entirely dictated by raw emotion, as ELLE's Katie Mulloy discovers when she spends a week with Hollywood's lost (but lovable)soul
Click here to see the behind-the-scenes film of Lindsay's cover shoot
Click here to see Lindsay Lohan's style file
It’s nearing midnight. The air outside the north London studio is still warm, and from the balcony we watch, Lindsay and I, the jagged outline of the capital twinkle in its urban peaks and troughs. Parliament cigarette in one hand, mobile phone in the other, Lindsay has decided, mid-fag break, to conduct her own mini photo shoot. ‘Look! We should just do it out here,’ she giggles, showing me her shots, while Rankin and a 20-strong team wait patiently inside.
Even in Blackberry self-portraits, Lindsay Lohan is stunning. The camera does something to her. Those pretty, delicate features fall into enthralling perfection. That tiny body, childlike in real life were it not for the voluptuous chest, snaps into a fine example of womanhood. Skin and hair all in tones of faded copper. Cinema/camera/mobile phone. Miss Lohan was made for every screen.
She tells me that tomorrow she is making an appearance at a club night. ‘You should come,’ she says. She needs the company. Generally, Hollywood doesn’t travel solo. If there is not a troupe, there is at least a companion, often a friend who has been segued into payroll, or an employee who has come to mean more than that. Lindsay only has Magali, a freelance PA she picked up in Paris and has known for two days, and another hired stranger, Tom, her British bodyguard, who she first met five hours ago, as he wrestled her through the waiting paparazzi scrum at St Pancras station.
