
With two great new roles and a body that won’t quit, Jennifer Aniston is reinventing what it means to be 40 and female in Hollywood.
By Jonathan Van Meter. Photographed by Craig McDean.
Here she comes, in faded cutoffs and a tank top. Has there ever been a more casual star? A more unrepentant Southern California girl? I am standing in the midst of the dust and chaos—the clattering hammers, the buzzing saws—of the massive construction project that is Jennifer Aniston’s sprawling new Beverly Hills home. It is midday in late September, and Aniston is picking her way through the site. As she heads toward me she looks comfortingly—almost defiantly—the same as she always has. Long, sun-streaked hair. Check. Tanned yoga body. Check. Toe rings and hippie beads. Check. There will be no moody movie-star transformations, no fresh tattoos to prove how unpredictable she is.When I arrived a few moments earlier, a big, genial security guy helped me park my car among all the construction vehicles and then took me to an office where a man named Phil introduced himself as Aniston’s “estate manager.” An elegant fellow with a British accent, he is a holdover from her only slightly more grand life with Brad Pitt, when they owned a 12,000-square-foot Normandy mansion not far from here and a big spread in Santa Barbara. “He’s very…Phil,” says Aniston with a laugh. She stops for a second and, as she so often does, rethinks out loud. “Maybe we don’t mention that I have an estate manager.” And then: “He’s more like the butler.”




Wanderlust (2011)
Horrible Bosses (2011)
Just Go With It (2011)



























