TheGuardian.com – 18th July, 2015

The actor, 58, on life in the spotlight, why he relishes every moment and what he cooked for Meryl Streep.

Richard E Grant, in his garden: ‘I live in dread of shoulda woulda. I’ve outlived my father by six years, so every month is a bonus. I wrestle every opportunity with gusto.’ Photograph: Suki Dhanda for the Observer.

By Eva Wiseman

The smell of Johnson’s Baby Powder takes me all the way from being a child to having a child. It’s a warm, fuzzy feeling, like anything’s possible. Of course it’s all chemicals, but what chemicals! They capture the very essence of “baby”.

The nature of being a fan is a cul-de-sac. I was at a party while we were making The Player in LA when Winona Ryder started quoting Withnail to me. And then I saw Barbra Streisand, and I was like: “Shut up Winona, I need to get to Babs.” I fanned her 100 times over. She asked if I was stoned. I told her about the letter I’d written her at 14 years old, inviting her to Swaziland to swim in our pool. She was very apologetic when she said she didn’t remember.

Fandom should be like acne – I should have got over it. But no, I’m invested. Maybe the beauty of it is its purity. I have no religion, so this is my blind love.

I don’t understand why everybody doesn’t sniff everything. My parents used to tell me off for licking my plate, but if the food is good it’s a great compliment. Smelling is the overture, eating is the main act, licking is the curtain call.

Like Rimbaud, my greatest fear used to be that other people would see me as I saw them. Now, I worry less about doing the right thing.

I realised I was famous when I was in a public loo and somebody asked me for a selfie. I couldn’t – my hands were full.

I can never be an arse, or someone will tweet it.

Lena Dunham is an extraordinary woman. Like Madonna, she’s acutely examined, deified and damned, yet she created something extraordinary that legions of young women identify with. She wrote a part for me in Girls. Working with her is similar to working with Robert Altman – you feel valued.

Nobody over 50 feels their age. It’s a combination of denial and my generation’s teenage brains. John Gielgud’s advice to me was to cultivate younger friends, because a time comes when you start calling old friends, and realise they’re no longer there to be called.

When they cloned Dolly I jumped with glee. The here and now is everything.

I live in dread of “shoulda woulda”. I’ve outlived my father by six years, so every month is a bonus. I wrestle every opportunity with gusto. His best advice to me was: “If you have five true friends, consider yourself a rich man.”

The ease and pleasure of a long marriage is like gold dust. You feel fed and sustained, and that you’re intimately known.

My life is so beyond anything I dared imagine, my diary is a way of recording it and making it real. I cooked supper for Meryl Streep, I really did, it says so in my diary. Crab linguine and a summer pudding.

Like the first time you have sex or take drugs, saying “Action” is exhilarating.

Everything I do is autobiographical, including my fragrances. The first smelled of marijuana, the second of carrot, the third of petrol.

The trick to marriage is to keep talking. I started a conversation with my wife in 1983. It’s still going. It’s no secret – we all just want to be heard.

Jack eau de parfum, £95, is available from selfridges.com