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" It&amp;#039;s safe to assume that any young, bright Hollywood ing\u00E9nue starring in back-to-back blockbuster films\u2014not to mention an Oscar nomination already under her belt\u2014might be enjoying the spotlight. But for Shailene Woodley, the public fascination does not begin and end with her starring role in the much-anticipated The Fault in Our Stars, or her equally awaited turn in March&amp;#039;s Divergent. Rather, though she has been vocal about her holistic habits for years, they have never before been so scrutinized in various interviews. And we eat up every new revelation about her rustic way of life: eating clay to cleanse her system, foraging for her own food, posing on red carpets barefaced but for beet-stained lips, leaving premieres barefoot. When we thread it all together, the undeniable question remains: What would it be like to be Shailene Woodley for a day? As ELLE.com&amp;#039;s &amp;quot;resident hippie&amp;quot; (as one of my co-workers labeled me just last week), I thought I might be up to the task\u2014after all, I prefer to forego Western medicine (even Advil) for herbal remedies, find the bounties of nature to be completely astounding, and, like the actress, I simply have a passion for the environment. So I read up on all of her interviews, formulated a schedule that I imagined might be similar to that of hers, and prepared to follow it to the T. Was I looking forward to consuming clay and fending for myself in the wilds of Central Park? Well, not particularly. But I, like the rest of the world, was fascinated by the prospect, and it didn&amp;#039;t seem like too much of a leap for me. Was I right? And more importantly, would channeling Shailene bring me the same &amp;quot;awakening moment&amp;quot; with the universe that she says to have experienced when filming The Descendants in Hawaii? Only the day ahead would tell: 8AM: I wake\u2014not quite with the sun, as I had hoped\u2014but with a bit of trepidation at the day ahead of me. I brusquely toss all skepticism aside, and try to embody Shailene&amp;#039;s attitude apparent: I let a calm, zen smile form on my face, and try to imagine how she is starting her day. With gratitude for the earth and life, perhaps? Or is she already on her way to the mountains to collect her spring water? (I was hoping to do the same, but apparently every regulated mountain spring that is in feasible commuting distance from NYC is no longer open to the public.) 8:05AM: I sleepily resist, on instinct, my first temptation of the morning: to reach for my computer. Shailene does not even have a cell phone, so I will shelve my technology as well. Besides, maybe after spending my days squinting at a screen for a living, a detox could do me some good. I envision myself living in the moment and becoming one with the world. It ain&amp;#039;t Kauai, but maybe there is some kind of cosmic force in Brooklyn. 8:10AM: I leave bed to begin my morning routine as I have read that Shailene does: With the ancient practice of oil pulling. I pick my poison\u2014organic, unrefined sesame oil, \u00E0 la Shailene\u2014and groggily gargle it while I begin to make my breakfast. It&amp;#039;s not bad (and I&amp;#039;ve done it with coconut oil before), and when I spit, I do swear my teeth feel cleaner. 8:15AM: I will not lie: When I first decided to channel Shailene for a day, I immediately Googled &amp;quot;Does Shailene Woodley drink coffee?&amp;quot; She does\u2014Bulletproof-style, which, for those who aren&amp;#039;t in the health craze know, involves blending Bulletproof brand coffee with expensive grass-fed butter and coconut oil, mimicking ancient Tibetan tradition (though, let&amp;#039;s be frank: I seriously doubt that Tibetan monks have ever insisted on using Kerrygold). I am vegan, so I forego the butter, but blend my Trader Joe&amp;#039;s brew with coconut oil and a bit of almond milk. It&amp;#039;s very frothy. 8:20AM: I have obtained mushroom chaga powder, which Shailene consumes daily, and was responsible for Miles Teller&amp;#039;s kissing scene complaints when they were filming The Spectacular Now. &amp;quot;It tastes like dirt,&amp;quot; told New York Magazine. &amp;quot;But I like the taste of dirt.&amp;quot; I can&amp;#039;t say the same\u2014even the teaspoon blended in my morning smoothie gives the beverage the subtle yet definitely apparent undertone of soil, and even I, with my natural-erring ways, cannot imagine having a crockpot of this stuff as tea going all the livelong day (which is exactly what Shailene does). 9:15AM: It&amp;#039;s the moment of truth and infamy: I will eat clay. (&amp;quot;I mean, I&amp;#039;m healthy, but that is some next level shit,&amp;quot; says my roommate. Yes, yes it is.) I mix it per the directions with eight ounces of water, and as I gaze at my mason jar of muddy-looking liquid, I kind of wish I could just take the 1/2 teaspoon of clay on its own and get it over with. I begin to sip, and it&amp;#039;s about as appetizing as you would imagine drinking clay is.  9:30AM: Using Shailene&amp;#039;s favorite facial cleanser from Living Libations\u2014made from sea buckthorn, it&amp;#039;s 100% natural and sourced from small farmers\u2014I remove all residue of last night&amp;#039;s makeup from my face, since the actress insists that she doesn&amp;#039;t wear any cosmetics on the day to day. The cleanser smells fantastic and leaves my skin glowing. In fact, I like it so much that I think I&amp;#039;ll add it to my daily routine. 9:45AM: I&amp;#039;m still working on that clay drink. (Yes, I&amp;#039;m being a baby about it.) I multitask and concoct my own toothpaste, using a recipe that I assume is close to that of Shailene&amp;#039;s. The ingredients include more clay, a calcium powder, coconut oil, xylitol, and peppermint essential oil, and I mix them into a green-tinged paste. It is far less appetizing than drinking the clay.   9:50AM: Feeling slightly nauseous and smelling of patchouli, I slip into Shailene&amp;#039;s uniform of choice: leggings and a drapey top. I forego her Vibram Five Fingers for my hole-y Toms.  10AM: I bike the mile to my local farmer&amp;#039;s market. As the breeze blows in my hair, the nausea has been replaced with serenity. It&amp;#039;s probably just the glorious, 75-degree June morning, but for the first time today I feel positively at peace with the world.  10:30AM: Fourth wall be damned: Riding on my biking high, I greet our photographer with a hug at the farmer&amp;#039;s market. She looks slightly startled, but then again, I assume this is also the case with the dozens of strangers Shailene greets in the same fashion. I peruse the local produce with a beady eye out for beets, since Shailene used the red vegetable&amp;#039;s juice as a lip stain at the Golden Globes in February. If I end up going out for a farm-to-table dinner tonight, I would like to have the option to put something on my face\u2014even if it is beet juice. Alas; apparently beets are not in season, and I settle for some gorgeous, very expensive oyster mushrooms. (Shailene likes mushrooms, as evidenced by the dirt I ate for breakfast this morning.)  11AM: I stroll into Fort Greene Park, hoping to find a secluded place to meditate and be one with nature. After a few minutes, I happen upon a group of squirrels, and as I make eye contact with one, it is not only unperturbed, but actually comes closer. I conclude that my previous suspicions were correct: Shailene is the real-life, 21st century version of an animal-beloved Disney princess. Or, too many people have been feeding the damn squirrels. Anyway, I am barefoot in the park, because that is the Shailene way.   12PM: Shailene likes yoga. I like yoga. Hence, I go to yoga. 1:30PM: After 75 minutes of glorious sun salutations, I jaunt into a thrift store around the corner. Shailene insists that she does not buy any of her clothes new. I don&amp;#039;t buy anything after browsing, however, mostly because nothing tickles my fancy but also because lately Shailene has only been living out of a suitcase with a pair of leggings and two pairs of jeans. And, I assume, her Vibram Five Fingers. 2:15PM: After an inconsequential lunch of groceries from Trader Joe&amp;#039;s (she shops there, so it&amp;#039;s okay), I write a letter, since Shailene loves writing letters and does it every day. I write to my friend Liz in LA, since she is an actress who I feel will understand my method and gets me in general. Dare I say that she is the Brie Larson to my Shailene? 2:30PM: As I set out to drop my letter in the mailbox, I remember that my rent is six days late. (Thanks Shailene!) However, this also makes me feel as if I&amp;#039;m not fully playing my role, since Shailene does not have a home and prefers to couch surf. Ah, well. I&amp;#039;m still sticking it to the man. 2:45PM: I have to run, since I have a very important appointment to forage for food in Central Park. But first, I dash up to my sunbathed roof for some Vitamin D me time.  4:30PM: Foraging in Central Park is actually against regulation, save for under the jurisdiction of Wildman Steve Brill, who leads tours around its northern paths for those curious about the edibleness of the vegetation. He is a total character, and I am astounded by his expertise (not to mention that of his 10-year-old daughter and &amp;quot;assistant,&amp;quot; Violet). He informs me on everything from the PMS-alleviating benefits of mugwort to identifying a harmless looking plant that could kill me four ways. I sample both the vegetation and his own recipes that he pulls out of his backpack, which include ridiculously delicious curried sunflower seeds and a spin off kale chips made from plantain leaves, which are not the banana relative but the exact plant that you pulled from your parent&amp;#039;s front lawn as a grumpy pre-teen and the star of weed killer commercials. (They are delicious.) When I not only voluntarily chew on a birch twig but actually enjoy its minty flavor, I wonder if I&amp;#039;m just still traumatized from the green, gritty &amp;quot;toothpaste&amp;quot; I used this morning or if I really am turning into Shailene.  7PM: After bidding Adieu to Steve and Violet, I take the trip back to Brooklyn with a backpack full of &amp;quot;dinner.&amp;quot; (Without any attempt to hide the disgust on her face, one lady on the subway blatantly asks me, &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re going to eat that?&amp;quot;) Still pretty satiated from all the sampling uptown, I make a light salad with my bounty, and it&amp;#039;s not half bad. Then again, I&amp;#039;ve grown my own vegetables in the past, and I know that anything tastes one hundred times better when it&amp;#039;s literally the fruit of your own labor.  8PM: I chase dinner with a soothing mug of pine needle tea\u2014a favorite of Shailene&amp;#039;s\u2014which I happened to already have on hand. I am not kidding. 8:30PM: Though my energy is fading fast (it&amp;#039;s tiring to be Shailene!), I rally to partake in one of her favorite activities: fermenting things. I would like to spend the month of July sipping kombucha, so I dive into the beginning stages of brewing (it takes more than a month for anything drinkable to come to fruition). Shailene doesn&amp;#039;t drink, but home-brewed kombucha naturally produces a tiny bit of alcohol. Things are about to get wild, people. (In 4-6 weeks.) 9:30PM: I collapse into bed, utterly exhausted. And in the minutes before I drift off, I reflect on my day: When I woke up that morning, I was extremely conscious of what I was supposed to be doing and how offbeat it was (wasn&amp;#039;t that the point of doing it?). Yet, in spite of all the sarcasm (and yes, whining), by the day&amp;#039;s end, while I was still certainly aware of everything I was doing, the quirkiness of it all just didn&amp;#039;t really matter. Instead, I noted that after a day free from technology, the constant chatter of being &amp;quot;tuned in&amp;quot; had at last subsided. I felt healthy, and yes, one with nature (which, let&amp;#039;s face it, is a feat in the confines of New York City). This was what mattered. And that&amp;#039;s what I think really encapsulates the authenticity of Shailene. She recently said that she doesn&amp;#039;t understand why people compare her to Jennifer Lawrence. I do: It&amp;#039;s because unlike many of their glossy, publicly over-rehearsed peers, they both display real, relatable behaviors and quirks. But I think the fact that Shailene can&amp;#039;t understand their relativity is the telling difference between the two: Where with every meme-worthy silly face or red carpet stumble, J.Law is very vocal about how &amp;quot;weird&amp;quot; and &amp;quot;awkward&amp;quot; she is, Shailene just does what works for her. Sure, as evidenced by all the interviews and actions cited here, she has no qualms about sharing it with the world, but she doesn&amp;#039;t seem focused on our perception of her. That is authenticity, and that was the conclusion I came to after living like her for a day. We&amp;#039;re quick to make fun, but she remains outwardly happy and unapologetic, and if her habits aren&amp;#039;t hurting anyone (actually, they do quite the opposite), who are we to judge? You keep doing you, Shailene. And while I probably won&amp;#039;t chase my breakfast with a glass of clay ever again, I think I&amp;#039;ll do what I want to do\u2014no matter what the peanut gallery thinks. And, I will be using that face wash on the daily. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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