dakota fanning is wild at heart

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Photographed by Harper Smith

Gripping a fistful of rainbow-flecked cake, Dakota Fanning pauses. “This feels very...not OK,” she says with a laugh, glancing down at what was once a pristine, Funfetti-like surface, now defiled with craters and handprints. She cracks a smile and tosses the crumbled bits into a metal bowl, then dips her hands into a giant tub of melted white chocolate, because, hell, this is a truffle party—or so it’s called at New York City’s sweets mecca Milk Bar.

We arrive at the bakery’s production kitchen in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, for a class on how to craft a few of their specialties. But before the trufflemaking merriment can take place, there are some preliminaries to attend to. “The Betty Boop one!” says Fanning, snagging a blue headscarf emblazoned with everyone’s favorite cartoon flapper. The scarf is part of standard protocol, a tribute to founding chef Christina Tosi’s signature style. Holding back Fanning’s flaxen locks, it looks adorable. Meanwhile, I’ve fastened mine into a misshapen bow that’s somehow managed to rip out all of my flyaways. “Can we get a hairnet over here instead?” jokes Fanning, noting my expression of amused defeat as she ties an apron over a pair of thick, black neoprene pants and a simple, slouchy sweater. She turns to grab a pair of latex gloves—scratch that, the sweater is straight-up backless.

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