After the no. 1 movies, the world tour, the clothing line, and kissing a Jonas brother, what’s there for a sweet 16-year-old to do?
By Holly Millea | July 27, 2009 3:00 p.m.
There are giant oatmeal cookies, thick, chewy brownies, and milk chocolate bonbons galore; sugar-sweet cereals, buckets of Twizzlers, hot buttered popcorn, and more; strawberry shortcake with baseball-size berries and homemade whipped cream to explore…Oompa-Loompas and Everlasting Gobstoppers aside, Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory has nothing on the Disney Channel’s Hannah Montana set, a junk food paradise where children of all ages and crewmembers of all sizes avoid the platters of fresh vegetables and sandwiches like the plague.
At the center of this teen idyll is the most golden of the Golden Ticket holders, Miley Cyrus, otherwise known as Hannah Montana, the secret pop-star alter ego of TV high-schooler Miley Stewart. She’s the one over there in the red BeDazzled jacket and pink rhinestone fingerless glove, the one with two multiplatinum albums, a sold-out concert tour, two hit films, a best-selling autobiography, and a new clothing line. Right now she’s the one having to literally act her age—16—in a scene where Miley’s sorry for complaining about her best friend, Lilly (Emily Osment), and her “squeaky, leaky” pet hamster behind her back. “As miserable as I was,” Cyrus is saying, “I was 10 times more miserable when I came back and my best friend was gone.” The girls hug, the director cuts, and the caged rodent keeps spinning his wheel. Cyrus flops down on the twin bed, stares at the hamster, and says to no one in particular, “Why does he think that’s fun?” She lets out a deep laugh. “That mouse is running crooked like he’s drunk!” A set photographer asks the costars to pose together, to which Cyrus, feigning diva, replies, “You’ll have to call my agent.”
Past the sets of Miley’s bedroom; the Stewarts’ Malibu kitchen; Rico’s Surf Shop on the beach…down one long corridor and then another, is Cyrus’ dressing room, where her grandmother Loretta “Mammie” Finley is sitting where she sits every day, in an alcove, armed with a letter opener, surrounded by postal buckets overflowing with fan mail. Still a great beauty, she wears a silvery white bouffant and black rhinestone glasses. “I open it all,” Finley says in a soft Southern lilt. She holds up a stamped 8" x 10" envelope self-addressed in curlicue handwriting. “They send one of these, and I send them back an autographed picture.” Her slender, manicured hand picks up a letter. “Some of them are sick,” she says, her voice sad. “We send those letters to the Make a Wish Foundation. Every week we have a Make a Wish kid who’s terminally ill visit the set. Had one today.”
Yapping at Finley’s heels are Cyrus’ pet Yorkies, Rodeo and Sophie, the latter having just had knee-replacement surgery. Suddenly, Cyrus comes running down the hall, ducking behind a side curtain. Tearing back out, she’s trailed by a lanky, dark, dreamboat of a guy carrying a guitar. This would be Justin Gaston, boyfriend, aspiring musician and actor, and God-fearing Christian, who has a scripture verse, Psalms 7:8, tattooed down his back: “Judge me, oh Lord, according to my righteousness.” He’s often referred to as an underwear model, having posed in Hugo Boss, Abercrombie & Fitch, and Diesel skivvies. His girlfriend finds this annoying. “He was younger when he did that. He was 18, 19!” she says. He’s 20 now. And according to the publicist giving the tour, he’s running away from me.
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