Abigail Weston moves with grace around her kitchen as she prepares a pot of tea. I watch as she glides from cabinet to cupboard to stove – her hair in lovely disarray, her face lacking a trace of makeup. It's hard to believe that, barely twenty-four hours ago, the same girl was decked out in Chanel couture and Christian Louboutin peep-toe pumps, chatting the night away at a film premiere. “Sometimes you feel almost schizophrenic, like you don’t have a singular self,” she remarks while dropping two teabags into boiling water. “The dressing up, the traveling, the playing make-believe… the constant combination of it all definitely makes you wonder who the real you is.” Abby retrieves milk from the refrigerator and a jar of sugar, carefully placing them both on the counter I'm sitting at. She smiles. "But there's nothing else I'd rather do." Abby’s demure attitude and poise seemingly disguise her workaholic backbone. This summer alone is a testament to how very full her plate it. For starters, her new comedy, the highly praised The Break-Up, has not only kicked off the blockbuster season, but raised the bar for quality in a mature-yet-funny summer film. “Oh, we’re all so proud of [The Break-Up]’s success. It all came as a surprise – I mean, we had a great piece of work on our hands, but no one knew if people were really going to watch a couple fight for two hours.” A small laugh escapes her as she stirs sugar into her tea. “I guess the answer was ‘yes’.” Next, it’s off to Paris, where Abigail is slated to shoot a commercial for Chanel. Flip open any fashion glossy since March of this year and you’ll likely see the actress, wearing only a pout and a bowler hat – voici the current Coco Mademoiselle campaign. When needled for information, she reveals that “the production team is basically planning a short film, similar to what they did for Chanel No. 5.” Who could forget the image of Nicole Kidman, paused on a staircase and surrounded by paparazzi, wearing that backless Chanel gown? Clearly, we couldn't. With another laugh, Abigail adds, "I'm quite nervous, actually! There's a lot to live up to." But hard work and high expectations don’t end there. Come mid-July, she returns to London to try her hand at something a little different: the stage. "Theater has always been a huge ambition of mine. I'm mostly excited about getting to perform such a classic role, and to do it for a live audience." The character in question is Margaret Pollitt, or Maggie the Cat, from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof -- the same role that earned Elizabeth Taylor her 1959 Oscar nod. Talk about pressure. When asked if she plans to visit Colchester, one of her many hometowns, while in England, Abigail finishes chewing a mouthful of cookie before answering. "It would be lovely to stop by," she starts, carefully brushing crumbs off her fingers and onto a napkin, "but I don't think there's time. Rehearsals run 'till early August; the play itself is on for three weeks." Her gaze goes hazy for a second, drifting over my shoulder to nowhere in particular. But Abby quickly recovers, continues. "And then I'm due back in New York for another film." Though all I can wonder is Where does she get the energy? and Does she have any kind of social life?, my tone is light-hearted when I finally ask, "Why do you keep so busy?" She smiles, shrugs, goes for her cup of tea. "That's just me, I suppose. It seems like a lot of work--," my oh, come on! look interrupts her and she laughs, "--okay, okay, it is a lot of work, but I just, I don't know... I feel more like myself when I'm always on the move. Sounds weird, right?" Right then, and for no apparent reason, her pet beagle, Wallace, comes running into the kitchen at full speed. I flinch as the small dog crashes into his food bowl, sending kibble almost everywhere. Abby simply rolls her eyes. "Y'know, I have no idea why he does that!" she exclaims before swooping him into her arms. Wallace pants excitedly, staring from me to her to the leftover cookies on the counter. "He's always, always running around." My guess is, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.