She has received backlash, meanwhile, for a recent social media post that many have referred to as “tone-deaf” that she made while in Greenland.
When the 82-year-old posed for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue in May of this year, she garnered a lot of good attention; but, the same kind of excitement wasn’t sparked by her most recent Instagram post.
On Tuesday, August 29, Stewart shared a photo of herself during a voyage that included a view of Greenland’s east coast. The TV personality and businesswoman is shown in one of several photos, one of which has the caption:
As we approach a magnificent fjord on the east coast of Greenland, Swan Hellenic Cruises’ inaugural Zodiac cruise draws to a close. Indeed, for our cocktails this evening, we were able to grab a tiny bit of iceberg.
Fans were instantly incensed at Stewart for using the “small iceberg” as a symbol for her drink, even though it was most likely not her intention for the post to offend.
Stewart’s mention of a little iceberg in relation to the “ice caps melting” in her comments section quickly drew criticism from many.
The ice caps are melting, Martha, according to one Instagram user. Keep them out of your drink.
“In general, I adore Martha and her excesses because she’s all about gorgeous houses, gardens, and food, but drinking iceberg cocktails while the world burns seems a little tone deaf,” another person commented.
So while the planet heats due to the wealth of a few thousand individuals, millionaires travel to the melting icebergs, scoop them up, and use them to keep their cocktails cold. That line seems like it belongs in a dystopian novel. A third said, “Can’t make this shit up, haha.”
We still need glacier ice for cocktails, despite global warming and the melting of ice caps? Talk about tone def. Been a devotee for years, but recently, I’m out when I can’t afford food because I’ve seen enough caviar,” remarked a fourth individual.
When Stewart bravely posed in provocative swimsuits for Sports Illustrated’s cover in May, she made history. The 81-year-old revealed her previous stringent health routine as well.
Stewart stated, “I didn’t starve myself, but I didn’t eat any bread or pasta for a couple of months,” in an interview with Today.
“It was incredible that I attended Pilates twice a week, and I continue to do so because it is so beneficial.” Either way, I live a clean lifestyle with a balanced diet, consistent exercise, good skincare, and other practices.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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