The episode opens on a disarming, intimate note: Jay asks about Camila's tattoo and she reveals it's a pearl, a quiet tribute to Veronica Lodge, the Riverdale character she played for seven years. She got it the day the show wrapped — a permanent marker of a chapter closed. Jay then addresses listeners directly with a short, warm message encouraging patience with oneself before welcoming Camila and gushing about watching her press tour for Masters of the Universe. He notes how effortless and joyful she appears on screen, and mentions that her fiancé Rudy Mancuso is someone he first spoke to eight years ago on Instagram. It's a brief but effective scene-setter: this conversation is going to be personal.

Jay asks Camila what she's most excited about at this moment in her life, and her answer is deliberately domestic: building a home, cultivating groundedness, creating a sanctuary. It's a telling contrast for someone mid-press-tour for a massive Hollywood franchise. Jay, a self-described interior design obsessive, dives deep — he thinks of rooms as reflections of the mind. Camila describes the evolution of her design sensibility: discovering her own aesthetic through her first owned home, then navigating the merger of her warmth-and-texture instincts with Rudy's hyper-clean, zen minimalism. The compromise took years, but their newly purchased home is, in her words, the perfect amalgamation. And Rudy — once the anti-colour purist — has now started asking for more colour. She's rubbed off on him.

Jay asks Camila what she's most excited about at this moment in her life, and her answer is deliberately domestic: building a home, cultivating groundedness, creating a sanctuary. It's a telling contrast for someone mid-press-tour for a massive Hollywood franchise. Jay, a self-described interior design obsessive, dives deep — he thinks of rooms as reflections of the mind. Camila describes the evolution of her design sensibility: discovering her own aesthetic through her first owned home, then navigating the merger of her warmth-and-texture instincts with Rudy's hyper-clean, zen minimalism. The compromise took years, but their newly purchased home is, in her words, the perfect amalgamation. And Rudy — once the anti-colour purist — has now started asking for more colour. She's rubbed off on him.

When Jay asks what's most challenging, Camila is candid: balance. A 4-week press tour for Masters of the Universe meant eating, sleeping, and breathing one project at the expense of every relationship and obligation in her life. She envies the idea of doing one thing at a time but knows the fickle nature of the industry demands juggling — any project can disappear overnight. Jay relates, sharing that he lives in strict 24-hour cycles to prevent overwhelm. Camila describes her post-tour strategy: take a week fully off, go to a wedding in Italy, and refuse to pre-schedule anything for her return. Instead of letting the calendar fill up with demands, she books personal nourishment first and fits work around it. If she doesn't do that, she says bluntly, she's screwed.

When Jay asks what's most challenging, Camila is candid: balance. A 4-week press tour for Masters of the Universe meant eating, sleeping, and breathing one project at the expense of every relationship and obligation in her life. She envies the idea of doing one thing at a time but knows the fickle nature of the industry demands juggling — any project can disappear overnight. Jay relates, sharing that he lives in strict 24-hour cycles to prevent overwhelm. Camila describes her post-tour strategy: take a week fully off, go to a wedding in Italy, and refuse to pre-schedule anything for her return. Instead of letting the calendar fill up with demands, she books personal nourishment first and fits work around it. If she doesn't do that, she says bluntly, she's screwed.

Jay asks how Camila learned to give herself permission to rest when momentum feels like oxygen. She's honest: she didn't choose to stop; she had to hit a rock bottom. Seven years on Riverdale, ten months a year, left no space for anything outside work. She reflects that for people addicted to feeding off momentum, you might simply never stop unless something forces you to. She now trusts that her talent and work ethic mean opportunities will still be there when she resurfaces; longevity matters more than uninterrupted hustle. Jay illustrates this with the classic woodcutter parable — a worker cuts 20 trees the first week, 10 the second, and zero the third, because he never sharpened his saw. It's a clean metaphor for blunted energy: working harder on the same depleted resource yields less and less.

Jay asks what rock bottom actually looked like for Camila, and she delivers one of the episode's most memorable stories. Even going to a concert had become a performance metric: know all the lyrics, wear a cute outfit, take the right photos, grow Instagram. She went to Coachella with friends and returned home in tears — not from sadness but from complete emptiness. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Camila went to Coachella with friends and came home in tears, realizing she had spent the entire weekend maximizing the experience for Inst…" 11:08 Play} She had no idea how to have fun anymore. Rudy asked her what was wrong and she said she didn't know what joy felt like. That night she started cataloguing: for almost two years, she had been reflexively saying 'things are just really crazy right now' — and suddenly she heard herself and understood it wasn't right now ^{[2] — Camila Mendes "I realized like that for almost 2 years of my life at that point, I had always been repeating the phrase, things are just really crazy righ…" 14:16 Play} . It was just her life. She dreaded mornings. Then Rudy told her about the Hoffman Institute through a mutual friend, and Camila's initial resistance — no phone, no email, a whole week gone — crumbled when the friend said some very big names had done it. She booked it.

Two days after deciding to book Hoffman, Camila had a huge blowout with her mother — an uncharacteristically reactive, burnt-out explosion that horrified her. That fight became the thing she brought to a Hoffman exercise designed to help participants revisit a triggering memory and imagine reacting differently. Camila could not do it. She was totally stuck, insisting there was only one way to react in that moment. Her teacher pulled her aside and heard her saying, in essence, 'why do I always have to be the bigger person?' ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "At the Hoffman Institute, a teacher told Camila she was still a little girl screaming for her mommy — and then delivered the gut-punch: mom…" 16:00 Play} And then the teacher said it: 'I hear a little girl in a woman's body screaming, I want my mommy. And mommy ain't coming. You are your mommy now.' Camila fell apart. It wasn't a condemnation of her mother — who she describes as loving and present — but a realisation that at 29 she was still waiting to be taken care of, still grieving what a 15-year-old girl had needed. The insight: she could now be the mother to that little girl herself. That reframe changed everything.

Jay observes that Camila can love her mother completely and still carry a wound from one specific abandonment — and that holding both truths simultaneously is the mature, healing move. ^{[1] — Jay Shetty "Camila and Jay unpack the emotional intelligence skill that most people never develop: holding two contradictory truths simultaneously. Her…" 20:51 Play} Either/or thinking is where we go wrong. Camila finds this resonant; she's always craved absolute narratives and is learning to live in the gray. From there the conversation moves to her bicultural upbringing: both parents are Brazilian, Portuguese was spoken at home, and Miami was heavily Latin. But during high school and her early career, Camila actively suppressed her Brazilian identity. She wanted to be as ambiguous and palatable as possible because she saw no successful models who looked like her in Hollywood. The shift came when she realised her heritage was her superpower — her differentiator, not a liability. Meeting Rudy, who is Brazilian-Italian-American with a strongly Brazilian upbringing, deepened that reconnection further. They share what she calls a 'third culture' — a rarity in Hollywood.

Jay observes that Camila can love her mother completely and still carry a wound from one specific abandonment — and that holding both truths simultaneously is the mature, healing move. ^{[1] — Jay Shetty "Camila and Jay unpack the emotional intelligence skill that most people never develop: holding two contradictory truths simultaneously. Her…" 20:51 Play} Either/or thinking is where we go wrong. Camila finds this resonant; she's always craved absolute narratives and is learning to live in the gray. From there the conversation moves to her bicultural upbringing: both parents are Brazilian, Portuguese was spoken at home, and Miami was heavily Latin. But during high school and her early career, Camila actively suppressed her Brazilian identity. She wanted to be as ambiguous and palatable as possible because she saw no successful models who looked like her in Hollywood. The shift came when she realised her heritage was her superpower — her differentiator, not a liability. Meeting Rudy, who is Brazilian-Italian-American with a strongly Brazilian upbringing, deepened that reconnection further. They share what she calls a 'third culture' — a rarity in Hollywood.

Jay observes that Camila can love her mother completely and still carry a wound from one specific abandonment — and that holding both truths simultaneously is the mature, healing move. ^{[1] — Jay Shetty "Camila and Jay unpack the emotional intelligence skill that most people never develop: holding two contradictory truths simultaneously. Her…" 20:51 Play} Either/or thinking is where we go wrong. Camila finds this resonant; she's always craved absolute narratives and is learning to live in the gray. From there the conversation moves to her bicultural upbringing: both parents are Brazilian, Portuguese was spoken at home, and Miami was heavily Latin. But during high school and her early career, Camila actively suppressed her Brazilian identity. She wanted to be as ambiguous and palatable as possible because she saw no successful models who looked like her in Hollywood. The shift came when she realised her heritage was her superpower — her differentiator, not a liability. Meeting Rudy, who is Brazilian-Italian-American with a strongly Brazilian upbringing, deepened that reconnection further. They share what she calls a 'third culture' — a rarity in Hollywood.

Jay observes a pattern he's seen everywhere: people cycle back to their roots as they age, redefining them rather than simply returning. Camila sees it in herself culturally and also spiritually. She grew up between a radical atheist father's side and a Catholic-turned-Spiritism mother's side, and landed firmly in teenage atheism — proudly, with Richard Dawkins on her nightstand. But years of therapy had helped her identify problems without resolving how she felt. She needed something more. She didn't even know it was spirituality she was craving. Then Hoffman gave her a form she could actually access: not organised religion, not a distant God, but a connection to her own highest self. 'Who is my highest self?' became her compass. That she describes as her version of God. It opened a door. She's not an atheist anymore, but she's not religious either — she just wants to believe in something and is okay with not knowing exactly what. Jay agrees that challenging your beliefs is terrifying but necessary, and that certainty in any belief system usually signals immaturity.

Jay observes a pattern he's seen everywhere: people cycle back to their roots as they age, redefining them rather than simply returning. Camila sees it in herself culturally and also spiritually. She grew up between a radical atheist father's side and a Catholic-turned-Spiritism mother's side, and landed firmly in teenage atheism — proudly, with Richard Dawkins on her nightstand. But years of therapy had helped her identify problems without resolving how she felt. She needed something more. She didn't even know it was spirituality she was craving. Then Hoffman gave her a form she could actually access: not organised religion, not a distant God, but a connection to her own highest self. 'Who is my highest self?' became her compass. That she describes as her version of God. It opened a door. She's not an atheist anymore, but she's not religious either — she just wants to believe in something and is okay with not knowing exactly what. Jay agrees that challenging your beliefs is terrifying but necessary, and that certainty in any belief system usually signals immaturity.

Jay surfaces a striking biographical detail: Camila moved approximately 16 times growing up. She's grateful for the adaptability it built, but she covets what she never had — the house with height marks on the wall, the childhood home her parents still live in. Rudy has that. When they walk into his family home, she feels the history. She is determined to give her own kids something more stable, while also accepting she can't guarantee anything. The deeper realisation: for years she was obsessed with never repeating her parents' divorce, working impossibly hard on relationships to avoid failure. Her dad eventually told her she was fighting too hard — relationships are hard, but not *that* hard. Letting go of the idea that her relationship choices had to be perfect, accepting that divorce could happen and she'd still be okay, was genuinely liberating. She came out of it fine. Her parents came out of it fine. The trauma gave her skills.

Jay asks how perfectionism showed up on the Riverdale set, and Camila opens up fully. The show was old-fashioned network TV at its most demanding: ten months a year, tight daily shooting schedules, zero tolerance for delays. There was no room for human error, and certainly no room for personal crises. If Camila was crying over something personal and got a knock on her trailer door — you're needed on set — her makeup was ruined, the schedule slipped, she became the reason production was behind. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Riverdale wasn't just a long TV show — it was a grinding pressure cooker that gave Camila panic attacks and forced her to get prescribed lo…" 37:28 Play} The pressure cooker produced panic attacks she'd never had before and hasn't had since. To keep functioning, she was prescribed lorazepam. She hated numbing herself but had no other option. Alongside this, she discloses bulimia she'd carried since high school — something the tight Veronica Lodge costumes made viscerally unavoidable. Feeling bloated and having to wear a midriff-baring miniskirt on camera triggered spirals. She had no space to feel her feelings on set, and the suppression made everything worse.

Jay asks how perfectionism showed up on the Riverdale set, and Camila opens up fully. The show was old-fashioned network TV at its most demanding: ten months a year, tight daily shooting schedules, zero tolerance for delays. There was no room for human error, and certainly no room for personal crises. If Camila was crying over something personal and got a knock on her trailer door — you're needed on set — her makeup was ruined, the schedule slipped, she became the reason production was behind. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Riverdale wasn't just a long TV show — it was a grinding pressure cooker that gave Camila panic attacks and forced her to get prescribed lo…" 37:28 Play} The pressure cooker produced panic attacks she'd never had before and hasn't had since. To keep functioning, she was prescribed lorazepam. She hated numbing herself but had no other option. Alongside this, she discloses bulimia she'd carried since high school — something the tight Veronica Lodge costumes made viscerally unavoidable. Feeling bloated and having to wear a midriff-baring miniskirt on camera triggered spirals. She had no space to feel her feelings on set, and the suppression made everything worse.

Jay asks how perfectionism showed up on the Riverdale set, and Camila opens up fully. The show was old-fashioned network TV at its most demanding: ten months a year, tight daily shooting schedules, zero tolerance for delays. There was no room for human error, and certainly no room for personal crises. If Camila was crying over something personal and got a knock on her trailer door — you're needed on set — her makeup was ruined, the schedule slipped, she became the reason production was behind. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Riverdale wasn't just a long TV show — it was a grinding pressure cooker that gave Camila panic attacks and forced her to get prescribed lo…" 37:28 Play} The pressure cooker produced panic attacks she'd never had before and hasn't had since. To keep functioning, she was prescribed lorazepam. She hated numbing herself but had no other option. Alongside this, she discloses bulimia she'd carried since high school — something the tight Veronica Lodge costumes made viscerally unavoidable. Feeling bloated and having to wear a midriff-baring miniskirt on camera triggered spirals. She had no space to feel her feelings on set, and the suppression made everything worse.

Jay asks how perfectionism showed up on the Riverdale set, and Camila opens up fully. The show was old-fashioned network TV at its most demanding: ten months a year, tight daily shooting schedules, zero tolerance for delays. There was no room for human error, and certainly no room for personal crises. If Camila was crying over something personal and got a knock on her trailer door — you're needed on set — her makeup was ruined, the schedule slipped, she became the reason production was behind. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Riverdale wasn't just a long TV show — it was a grinding pressure cooker that gave Camila panic attacks and forced her to get prescribed lo…" 37:28 Play} The pressure cooker produced panic attacks she'd never had before and hasn't had since. To keep functioning, she was prescribed lorazepam. She hated numbing herself but had no other option. Alongside this, she discloses bulimia she'd carried since high school — something the tight Veronica Lodge costumes made viscerally unavoidable. Feeling bloated and having to wear a midriff-baring miniskirt on camera triggered spirals. She had no space to feel her feelings on set, and the suppression made everything worse.

Camila describes the treatment approach that worked for her: a specialist eating disorder therapist and a nutritionist operating as a coordinated team, addressing the psychological and physiological dimensions simultaneously. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Camila's nutritionist slowly reintroduced carbs — starting with a single piece of toast — and the binge-purge cycle stopped. The deprivatio…" 44:35 Play} The nutritionist's strategy was counterintuitive — reintroduce the forbidden foods very slowly. Start with a piece of toast in the morning. Camila was terrified: that's going to make me gain weight. But the nutritionist's logic was airtight: the reason Camila was binging and purging was that she was so deprived of carbs that when she walked past craft services on set she'd lose control. Remove the deprivation, remove the binge. And it worked. Permission to eat something made her not want it quite so desperately. She healed in roughly a year — something she genuinely didn't believe was possible. The broader principle Jay draws out from this is an ancient wisdom: attachment and aversion are two sides of the same coin. The extreme restriction created the extreme compulsion.

Jay asks what advice Camila would give young women struggling with eating disorders or body image, and she starts with the blunt answer: see a therapist. Not because it's generic advice, but because the people in your everyday life — however well-meaning — will accidentally send you back into the loop. Case in point: during her most depressed period, when she genuinely had no appetite and was not eating, she received more body compliments than at any other time in her life. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "At her lowest point, not eating from depression with no appetite, Camila received more body compliments than ever. Those compliments wired …" 48:15 Play} 'You look incredible, what are you doing, Pilates?' And she was doing nothing — she was miserable and not taking care of herself. Those compliments trained her brain to associate being unwell with looking her best. When the compliments stopped, she felt like she'd gained weight. It's a vicious cycle that professionals are specifically trained to interrupt. People who love you don't have those tools. She also notes that she was fortunate to have close Riverdale castmates — Lily Reinhart and Madeleine Petsch — who she could be open with, though she was always careful about what she shared, knowing certain conversations could trigger relapses.

Jay asks what advice Camila would give young women struggling with eating disorders or body image, and she starts with the blunt answer: see a therapist. Not because it's generic advice, but because the people in your everyday life — however well-meaning — will accidentally send you back into the loop. Case in point: during her most depressed period, when she genuinely had no appetite and was not eating, she received more body compliments than at any other time in her life. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "At her lowest point, not eating from depression with no appetite, Camila received more body compliments than ever. Those compliments wired …" 48:15 Play} 'You look incredible, what are you doing, Pilates?' And she was doing nothing — she was miserable and not taking care of herself. Those compliments trained her brain to associate being unwell with looking her best. When the compliments stopped, she felt like she'd gained weight. It's a vicious cycle that professionals are specifically trained to interrupt. People who love you don't have those tools. She also notes that she was fortunate to have close Riverdale castmates — Lily Reinhart and Madeleine Petsch — who she could be open with, though she was always careful about what she shared, knowing certain conversations could trigger relapses.

Jay asks what advice Camila would give young women struggling with eating disorders or body image, and she starts with the blunt answer: see a therapist. Not because it's generic advice, but because the people in your everyday life — however well-meaning — will accidentally send you back into the loop. Case in point: during her most depressed period, when she genuinely had no appetite and was not eating, she received more body compliments than at any other time in her life. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "At her lowest point, not eating from depression with no appetite, Camila received more body compliments than ever. Those compliments wired …" 48:15 Play} 'You look incredible, what are you doing, Pilates?' And she was doing nothing — she was miserable and not taking care of herself. Those compliments trained her brain to associate being unwell with looking her best. When the compliments stopped, she felt like she'd gained weight. It's a vicious cycle that professionals are specifically trained to interrupt. People who love you don't have those tools. She also notes that she was fortunate to have close Riverdale castmates — Lily Reinhart and Madeleine Petsch — who she could be open with, though she was always careful about what she shared, knowing certain conversations could trigger relapses.

The conversation turns to how Camila and Rudy found each other. In 2022, his team reached out about casting her in Música, his directorial debut about Brazilian-American culture. Her first instinct was skepticism: a guy from Vine directing a rom-com. But she took the meeting because he was Brazilian — and that alone made her curious enough. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Camila nearly passed on Rudy's directorial debut about Brazilian-American culture — until she took the meeting anyway because he was Brazil…" 53:03 Play} Within 10 minutes she was convinced. She joined as both lead actress and executive producer, helping rewrite her own scenes from personal experience. The creative collaboration became intensely intimate: they were sharing real stories from their lives to build fictional characters. Over weeks of Zoom calls, Camila found herself kicking her feet under the table, giddy when she talked about him to friends. She had no idea if the chemistry was real or just a Zoom illusion. When they finally met in person at the screen test, a two-minute silent video was captured of their first conversation — no audio, just two people visibly giddy with chemistry. Within a week of shooting, they were seeing each other. It felt, she says, like home.

The conversation turns to how Camila and Rudy found each other. In 2022, his team reached out about casting her in Música, his directorial debut about Brazilian-American culture. Her first instinct was skepticism: a guy from Vine directing a rom-com. But she took the meeting because he was Brazilian — and that alone made her curious enough. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Camila nearly passed on Rudy's directorial debut about Brazilian-American culture — until she took the meeting anyway because he was Brazil…" 53:03 Play} Within 10 minutes she was convinced. She joined as both lead actress and executive producer, helping rewrite her own scenes from personal experience. The creative collaboration became intensely intimate: they were sharing real stories from their lives to build fictional characters. Over weeks of Zoom calls, Camila found herself kicking her feet under the table, giddy when she talked about him to friends. She had no idea if the chemistry was real or just a Zoom illusion. When they finally met in person at the screen test, a two-minute silent video was captured of their first conversation — no audio, just two people visibly giddy with chemistry. Within a week of shooting, they were seeing each other. It felt, she says, like home.

Jay asks what Camila had to heal within herself to let Rudy's kind of love in. She's candid: she had to metabolise the humiliation of a very public breakup, watching her ex move on in full view of the world and the internet. But she also believes the standard advice to 'get over it completely before falling in love again' is wrong — and maybe even impossible. Some wounds only reveal themselves in a new relationship. The trust issues, the patterns, the flinches — they surface when you're loving again. That's when you can actually heal them. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Camila rejects the idea that you have to be completely healed before you fall in love again. Some wounds are invisible until you start lovi…" 1:00:20 Play} Her father gave her another key piece of the puzzle: he told her she was fighting too hard to make her previous relationship work because she was terrified of repeating her parents' divorce. He told her: relationships are hard, but they're not *that* hard. It should feel somewhat easy. And when Rudy came along, it did.

Camila and Jay dig into the complicated territory of loving publicly. As Brazilians, both she and Rudy are naturally physically demonstrative — their friends joke about how annoyingly affectionate they are. But her industry demands some restraint. The solution Jay offers is elegant: don't dim your public warmth; just make your private life even richer. ^{[1] — Jay Shetty "Your public life should be good, but your private life should be better." 1:06:26 Play} You always keep the best parts for each other. Camila then opens up about something more difficult: there was a period in her relationship with Rudy where she felt like she was doing most of the emotional work. She had done nearly a decade of therapy and had just completed Hoffman; he hadn't yet started therapy at all. The post-Hoffman clarity threw their dynamic into sharper relief — she had changed, and the gap was visible. When Rudy finally started individual therapy (after Camila had been recommending it for a long time), the relationship problems began to dissolve. Meeting halfway, she says, made everything click.

Camila and Jay dig into the complicated territory of loving publicly. As Brazilians, both she and Rudy are naturally physically demonstrative — their friends joke about how annoyingly affectionate they are. But her industry demands some restraint. The solution Jay offers is elegant: don't dim your public warmth; just make your private life even richer. ^{[1] — Jay Shetty "Your public life should be good, but your private life should be better." 1:06:26 Play} You always keep the best parts for each other. Camila then opens up about something more difficult: there was a period in her relationship with Rudy where she felt like she was doing most of the emotional work. She had done nearly a decade of therapy and had just completed Hoffman; he hadn't yet started therapy at all. The post-Hoffman clarity threw their dynamic into sharper relief — she had changed, and the gap was visible. When Rudy finally started individual therapy (after Camila had been recommending it for a long time), the relationship problems began to dissolve. Meeting halfway, she says, made everything click.

Jay mentions he was actually there the night of the engagement — he saw them arriving at Glen Powell's birthday party afterward. Camila tells the full story with relish. Rudy and her best friend were in cahoots: the cover was a birthday dinner for the friend (her birthday was the next day), at a mysterious, ultra-exclusive fake speakeasy. The friend even orchestrated a Sex and the City dress code specifically to stop Camila from wearing a tracksuit — because Glen Powell's party afterwards had a 'tracksuits and tequila' theme. Camila, taking the theme seriously, had brought a corset. The friend talked her into a jacket over it. Good call for the engagement photos. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Rudy and Camila's best friend conspired to disguise the proposal as a friend's birthday dinner, complete with a fake Sex and the City dress…" 1:07:43 Play} At the venue, Camila walked into what she genuinely thought was a stunning restaurant — white flowers everywhere, candles — and saw Rudy at the end of what was actually an aisle. It still didn't register until she heard the song: the engagement party scene from La La Land, the film they'd bonded over when they first met. Then she realised her friends had stopped walking behind her. And then she knew. Rudy proposed, they had a private moment, then walked through a curtain into a full surprise party — including her mom. Later that night, Rudy announced their engagement to the paparazzi outside Powell's house, completely spontaneously.

Jay mentions he was actually there the night of the engagement — he saw them arriving at Glen Powell's birthday party afterward. Camila tells the full story with relish. Rudy and her best friend were in cahoots: the cover was a birthday dinner for the friend (her birthday was the next day), at a mysterious, ultra-exclusive fake speakeasy. The friend even orchestrated a Sex and the City dress code specifically to stop Camila from wearing a tracksuit — because Glen Powell's party afterwards had a 'tracksuits and tequila' theme. Camila, taking the theme seriously, had brought a corset. The friend talked her into a jacket over it. Good call for the engagement photos. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "Rudy and Camila's best friend conspired to disguise the proposal as a friend's birthday dinner, complete with a fake Sex and the City dress…" 1:07:43 Play} At the venue, Camila walked into what she genuinely thought was a stunning restaurant — white flowers everywhere, candles — and saw Rudy at the end of what was actually an aisle. It still didn't register until she heard the song: the engagement party scene from La La Land, the film they'd bonded over when they first met. Then she realised her friends had stopped walking behind her. And then she knew. Rudy proposed, they had a private moment, then walked through a curtain into a full surprise party — including her mom. Later that night, Rudy announced their engagement to the paparazzi outside Powell's house, completely spontaneously.

Camila reflects on how her inner and outer worlds aligned around Masters of the Universe. She came back from Hoffman newly spiritual, feeling what she calls a more 'heroic version' of herself. Shortly after, the audition came in. She got the role. The film, a franchise about good versus evil and the battle between light and dark, had always felt too binary for her to connect with emotionally — until her Hoffman experience made the themes viscerally personal. ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "On the set of Masters of the Universe, Camila grounded herself with daily meditations in her trailer — a 180-degree shift from the panic at…" 1:17:00 Play} Fighting your own dark side, finding the light: this was literally the story she had just lived. On set, her daily ritual was meditating in her trailer. In contrast to the lorazepam and panic attacks of Riverdale, she now has practical, fast, portable tools from Hoffman that take two minutes and set her up for the day. She knows what she needs. That self-knowledge, she says, is the most valuable thing she's gained from all the work.

Jay moves into the Final Five rapid-fire closer. Camila's best advice came from her Riverdale on-screen dad, Mark Consuelos — before speaking in a moment of conflict, ask: does this need to be said? Does it need to be said right now? Do I need to be the one to say it? ^{[1] — Camila Mendes "I'd rather just be known than, um, liked." 1:15:53 Play} She finds it transformative in relationships. The worst advice she's ever received: being told not to tell the truth about something. Honesty is her north star, and looking back she's grateful every time she ignored someone's advice to stay quiet. On overthinking: she thinks too much about whether people will like her — something she's only now beginning to surrender, specifically on this press tour where she's facing a whole new audience. Her resolution is elegant: 'I'd rather just be known than liked.' Jay responds with one of his own favourite lines — confidence doesn't mean everyone will like me, it means I'll be okay even if they don't. Wedding planning is moving slowly, overtaken by the new house. And if she could make one law for the world: make lying illegal. She knows it would be dangerous, but she genuinely wants to see what would happen.