Perched on a velvet stool in the cozy library of her Nashville home, Dolly Parton — 79, still dazzling in a sequined blouse and sky-high heels — sips sweet tea and lays it bare in a rare, no-holds-barred interview with People magazine’s 2025 “Icons” issue: “I don’t try to be nobody else. Never have, never will. What you see is what God gave me, plus a little help from Maybelline and a good push-up bra.” With her new memoir Songteller: My Life in Lyrics (updated edition) topping charts and her Imagination Library surpassing 250 million books donated worldwide, Parton isn’t slowing down — she’s doubling down on authenticity in an era of filters and facades.

The declaration isn’t new, but its context is. In an age where country stars chase TikTok trends and AI vocals, Parton — who wrote “Jolene” and “I Will Always Love You” before she was 30 — remains defiantly herself. “Kids today think they gotta change for the algorithm,” she says, her East Tennessee twang as warm as ever. “Honey, I’ve been Dolly since the day I stole my mama’s lipstick at age six. If the world don’t like it, that’s their problem.” She gestures to a wall of platinum records and a shelf of wigs — “my crown collection” — proof that reinvention and realness can coexist.

Her journey to unapologetic selfhood began in a two-room cabin in the Smoky Mountains, fourth of 12 children born to tobacco farmer Robert Lee Parton and Avie Lee. “We were poor as dirt, but rich in dreams,” she writes in the memoir. At 10, she sang on local radio; at 13, she debuted at the Grand Ole Opry. Nashville rejected her early demos — “too country,” they said — but Parton persisted, hitchhiking to Music Row with $8 and a cardboard suitcase. Her 1967 breakthrough on The Porter Wagoner Show came with a catch: Wagoner wanted her blonde, bubbly, and obedient. “I gave him the blonde,” she laughs. “The rest was non-negotiable.”

The ’70s tested her steel. Critics mocked her look — “the backwoods Barbie” — while radio resisted her songwriting. Parton responded with Coat of Many Colors (1971), a No. 4 hit about childhood poverty that became a children’s book and Netflix special. “I turned shame into sparkle,” she says. When Wagoner sued her for $3 million in 1974 over her solo exit, Parton paid up and penned “I Will Always Love You” — a double No. 1 that Whitney Houston later took to global billions. “That song bought my freedom,” she notes. “And proved a girl from the holler could write her own ticket.”

Marriage to Carl Dean — 59 years and counting — is her anchor. The reclusive contractor proposed in 1966; they wed in a quiet Georgia ceremony. “Carl don’t care about spotlights,” Parton says. “He cares about me coming home.” Dean’s only public appearance remains a 1966 photo; he skips award shows but sends flowers with notes like “Love ya, mean it.” Their child-free life fuels philanthropy: the Dollywood Foundation, wildfire relief ($13 million in 2016), and COVID vaccines (Parton funded Moderna’s trial with $1 million).

Aging? Parton embraces it on her terms. “I’ve had work done — lips, eyes, the works,” she admits. “But it’s still me underneath. I ain’t trying to be 25; I’m trying to be the best 79.” Her 2025 health scare — a minor vocal cord procedure — sidelined her for six weeks, but she returned to the Opry in October with a 10-minute ovation. New music is brewing: a rock album with covers of Queen and Prince, plus a Broadway musical of her life starring Kristin Chenoweth as young Dolly.

The memoir’s final chapter, “Being Dolly,” is a manifesto: “I dress for me, sing for me, live for me. If folks love it, great. If not, I’ll still be here in my wig and heels, smiling.” Sales hit 2 million in week one; Reese Witherspoon’s book club pick sparked a 300% spike in Imagination Library sign-ups.

As Nashville debates authenticity, Parton — with 50 No. 1 hits, 11 Grammys, and a net worth north of $650 million — remains the gold standard. “God gave me a big heart and a bigger mouth,” she quips. “I use both.” In a world of copies, Dolly Parton is the original — and she’s not changing for anyone.