Hammer giving a tough sell at the April 2012 opening of Bird Bakery.
Edward A. Ornelas/San Antonio Express - News/Zuma Press
To his dismay, Armie’s two lives have begun to intersect, a reality he knows will only get worse from this point on. He’s had to stop working the counter at the bakery because the line would get too long as he obliged every photo or autograph request. He still rides his Vespa as his primary means of transportation — likely a remnant of island culture, which he still craves — and doesn’t want to lose that freedom. He also can’t remember the last time he ate an entire cupcake. The Lone Ranger can’t have love handles, after all.

“Everybody thinks they’re saying something innovative, but they all end up saying something that’s derivative of, ‘Everything’s going to change for you,’ and I don’t want it to,” he says. “Everybody tries to give you advice, but you’ve just got to go with it.”

Luckily, he’s got at least one piece of solid­ ground: His wife, Elizabeth ­Chambers, a journalist and the brains behind Bird ­Bakery. Similarly striking and statuesque, the pair looks like Barbie and Ken with good colorists. (And either she, like her husband, doesn’t indulge in many cupcakes, or she’s got a superhuman metabolism.) They met through a mutual friend in 2006 and married four years later while Armie filmed The Social Network, and they’ve made an effort not to spend more than five days apart since. That’s meant a lot of back-and-forth between L.A. and San Antonio (the couple has homes in both cities) and her hitting the road for the occasional on-location shoot or globe-spanning press tour. It’s no free ride — they simply can’t bear to be apart.

On the bakery’s leftovers: “Whatever’s left, the next day, half of it goes to the food bank, half of it goes to the police and fire department.”


Truly, their sweet rapport will rot your teeth faster than a Monster cookie. When she interviewed him on the set of ­Mirror Mirror for Access Hollywood, he interrupted her line of questioning more than once to sneak in a quick kiss. They’ve been known to address each other by terms of endearment like perfect soul mate and best friend. Simply put, she’s the reason he is where he is today — and he doesn’t just mean at a bakery in San Antonio — and she’ll be the reason he ends up wherever he does.

“Obviously, I don’t know what I’m going to be doing in 30 years, 40 years or even 10 years, but I know who I’m going to be with, which is really comforting,” he says. “It takes a lot of the mystery out of it. It’s like, I know I have a best friend, and it’s you. And you’re not going anywhere because I’m not going anywhere.”

Where he’ll go next professionally, though, is something of a mystery. Maybe bakery-owner Armie will expand his and his wife’s business and, if things go according to plan, franchise. Maybe down the road, movie-star Armie will move into directing, as he’s begun buying up book and life rights to try to develop projects. Or maybe the Hollywood machine will grow tiresome, in which case, he laughs, “I’d come here and enjoy working at the bakery and enjoy getting fat.”

Or maybe one day you’ll read about two lovebirds in a book about a bakery — the Barbie and Ken look-alikes with the storybook romance who baked and ate entire cupcakes and lived happily ever after.

Maybe it will become a movie. And maybe Armie will direct it. 



JESSICA JONES is an associate editor at American Way. She’s craving a Monster cookie.