Inside the Secret World of Fashion’s New Elite—Raised on The Devil Wears Prada and Redefining Power Like Never Before
When The Devil Wears Prada first hit the screens, I was just a kid, blissfully unaware that this quirky, fashion-filled flick would forever alter the lens through which I viewed the glamorous yet grueling world of style. Fast forward twenty years, and here I am—dashing between runway shows and dazzling soirées, clutching my latte with one hand and a not-so-pearly smile with the other, all while wondering if the chaos is really worth that perfect pair of heels. Ever caught yourself dreaming of a world where dedication meets designer labels but dread the reality that it might just chew you up and spit you out? Yeah, me too.
This isn’t just a story about glitz; it’s about grit — the behind-the-scenes hustle painted with the kind of glam only Patricia Fields could dream up, and the unflinching truths wrapped in Miranda Priestly’s icy poise. It beckoned countless dreamers—fashion hopefuls and closet creatives alike—to claw their way into an exclusive club where the stakes are sky-high, and the “cerulean” sweater isn’t just a color, but a symbol of something greater.
As we eagerly await the sequel, I’ve gathered voices from all corners of the industry—publicists, writers, designers, and editors—each sharing how this cult classic shaped their journey, injected a little sass into their ambition, or revealed the hidden cost behind the couture. So, shall we dive into the reality behind the runway, where every high-gloss surface has its cracks? Because, spoiler alert: it’s not all champagne and Chanel.
When The Devil Wears Prada premiered, I was nine. I don’t remember the first time I watched it. All I know is that it entered the canon of my formative years very quickly and there it remained. Twenty years later, I’m a fashion journalist at a major glossy, fluttering around to runway shows and cocktail events, perhaps even with wearing something fabulous—but definitely with a mild haze of stress clouding my vision. Obviously, something stuck.
The film offered a glimpse of this elusive world I dreamed of entering one day, as it did for many fashion-obsessed members of of my generation. Andy Sachs, played by Anne Hathaway, is a quintessential outsider—or a “wide-eyed girl peddling her earnest newspaper stories”—who battles her way into the palace of Runway, a fictionalized, powerful fashion magazine, reckoning with the obscene demands, high glamour, catty employees, and detriments to her social life along the way. She gives us a peek at the meetings that conceptualized photo shoots, takes us along to Paris Fashion Week, even teaches us what the word “run-through” means. We were a willing target in a moment when social media didn’t yet offer candid Instagram Stories and lo-fi TikToks revealing what really went on behind closed doors.
The Devil Wears Prada is hardly a resounding endorsement of the fashion industry. The movie is essentially a parody of fashion horror stories, but my god, are the employees who fall victim to these perilous tests dressed incredibly well (courtesy of famed costume designer Patricia Fields). Despite being liberally peppered with warning signs about fashion as a career path, it does paint an alluring picture of the business as an exclusive, aspirational club. Most importantly, though, it validates a love of fashion as a serious endeavor, courtesy of the famed “cerulean” speech delivered by Runway editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly, played by Meryl Streep.
Ahead of the sequel’s much-anticipated release, we’ve polled a range of publicists, writers, designers, and editors whose desire to join the fashion industry was shaped by The Devil Wears Prada, in some form or another—good or bad.
“The Devil Wears Prada was my gateway drug into the fashion world during a time when I spent afternoons after school lying on my mother’s cold marble bathroom floor, sifting through her issues of Vogue, W, and Harper’s Bazaar, and the Saks catalog. At that age, editorials felt like they came together with the same magic I saw in Disney movies. It wasn’t until I saw The Devil Wears Prada that I began to understand there were people (powerful ones) behind the stories that shaped me. Everything about the film piqued my excitement about fashion. It painted the industry as this gilded tower that only the best could touch, and of course, I wanted inside. To my nine-year-old self, Miranda Priestly was God-like. I had never seen a woman so glamorous, so powerful, so sure of her decisions. It was a level of confidence that my prepubescent self envied. If the film’s intent was to scare people away from the industry with its oversized egos, it had the opposite effect on me. Looking back now from inside the gilded tower, the film isn’t far off. I’ve watched the movie at least 20 times, but nothing quite prepares you for the personalities you encounter. Like any industry, it’s sink or swim. You either pull on your Chanel bootstraps and commit your all, or take the cerulean sweater out of storage.”—Vienna Vernose, 28, fashion editor
“When I watched The Devil Wears Prada, I already knew I wanted to work in fashion, but it made the industry feel even more exciting than I had imagined. I loved how put-together everyone at Runway was and how seriously they took their work. There was something really compelling about that level of dedication—being so focused on doing your job well and showing up looking polished every day. I also remember noticing that most of the members of the team were women, and that felt really empowering to me. Seeing that kind of drive and ambition portrayed in that way made me even more excited about the idea of being part of that world.”—English Bartholomieux, 36, publicist
“I found the adrenaline rush of Andy’s life to be quite alluring. There’s much this idea of go go go that strings the film together, and I went into PR with this mindset of The work never stops. I can’t sew at all, so the idea of interacting with clothes in a way that was still tactile struck me.”—Lindsey Solomon, 34, publicist
“I was always drawn to fashion, but growing up in Mexico, I was so far removed from what that could be in terms of a career. Back then, there was no social media to show you what was out there, so the movie felt like this behind-the-scenes glimpse. I loved the idea that if you worked hard enough, you could have this incredible fabulous life. It definitely planted the idea of wanting to move to New York; I was willing to do whatever it takes to ‘make it’ like Andy did.
As someone who got the chance to work at a few magazines as an assistant, the movie is nostalgic for me because a lot of it is very relatable. I have had my fair share of The Devil Wears Prada moments! At the same time, it glamorizes a lot of things and exaggerates others, so it’s just funny, almost like an inside joke of sorts. But I also think times have changed a lot in fashion. It portrays this old school ‘toxic’ side of fashion that I think our generation has worked to change.”—Karina Avalar, 30, senior communications manager, PR
“The movie showed a quite toxic environment, and that is still very real in the industry. That’s what I was expecting and unfortunately normalized in my head, and sadly also exactly what I got. I remember being told, after a successful six-round interview with a big house, that everyone would’ve killed for that position. That came after I said no to the ridiculously low salary offer. Now that I am in a higher position in the industry, I try to change things by bringing more kindness.” —Gulia Canu, 32, editor and marketing executive
“It pulled me in aesthetically as a kid and gave me big city dreams. I loved the idea of being in a world where what you wear actually holds value and influence. It felt like this whirlwind where everything is high-stakes and visually perfect, and it totally reshaped how I saw fashion and trends.
I work in costumes for TV/film now, and especially after a recent rewatch, I’m way more aware of the labor behind the scenes (and honestly very curious what their budget was.) My relationship to the fashion in film is more complicated now as I can’t separate it from politics and capitalism. There are definitely moments at work where I’ve felt like Andy. But it’s also a film that reminds me to appreciate the craft on a deeper level. Costume design really is its own visual language. It’s essential to storytelling and how we communicate.”—Hannah Stempky, 28, TV/film costumer
“Andy’s character resonated so much with me as a fellow Midwesterner who had my own doubts about whether or not I was stylish and cool enough to make it in the big leagues. My first PR internship was at Shinola, the watch and leather goods brand, and I was certain I would be schlepping and suffering like Andy. I have to admit I was actually slightly disappointed when I didn’t have the rite of passage I thought I was in for. My boss was too nice! I had to beg to pick up breakfast and coffee for her.”—Sarah Wood Gonzalez, 29, freelance writer
“As a young person who already dreamed of a life in New York and a career in fashion (I used to run to my room after school to watch Chanel and Dior couture shows online) but had no real sense of the industry, it showed me so much about what day-to-day life could be and introduced an entirely new vocabulary of names and references to learn. I felt like it gave me a roadmap to my fashion career. And I do feel like the references are still relevant.” —Anonymous, 32, fashion publicist
“That movie lit a fire in me. Instead of being appalled by the ridiculousness of the treatment and expectations, I was like: ‘I want to be there, and I want to be her.’ It gave me a kind of gusto. And then it just morphed from, ‘When I grow up, I want to work at a big magazine!’ to’ like, ‘Okay, I am making those things happen and I’ll do whatever it takes.’ And I landed my first job at Harper’s Bazaar. And now I’m a stylist literally assisting major celebrities. It’s all so full circle.”—Bella Warton, 26, celebrity stylist
“My high school senior superlative was ‘Most Like To Be Anna Wintour’s Assistant.’ Except I was always more of a high-strung Emily Charlton than an Andy Sachs. The Devil Wears Prada and movies like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days made me want to work at a fashion magazine more than anything. There was something about the chaos of it, the clothes, the deadlines, the glossy ambition of it all. While I never was an assistant at a magazine, working in PR fuels that dream to some degree—getting to work with some of the top editors at fashion magazines on a daily basis. And I write on Substack to fictionalize the magazine girl I always dreamed of becoming!”—Anna Caroline Turner, 26, publicist
“Andy Sachs really resonated with me as a young designer applying to fashion school in internships and ultimately working in the industry. Every time I rewatch it, I get emotional, because it reminds me of how it felt at the beginning. Having to prove yourself without anyone vouching for you—just you, your work ethic, and a dream. Your knowledge and taste develop with time. When Andy runs around doing errands on a time crunch, I still get chills because that’s what it was like at the beginning. Even though I am a mid-level designer, fashion continues to be an industry made for smart, hardworking, and, yes, fashion-crazed people who are willing to sacrifice a normal social and healthy life for a small taste of glamour. And I would do it all over again.”—Katherine Psaltos, 25, VIP design and development coordinator
“I grew up in the suburbs of Houston, Texas, which felt very ‘normal,’ almost cookie-cutter, and my only real exposure to fashion came from movies. I had barely spent time in New York before moving here at 25, but those films sold me on this idea of success, glamour (!!), and a life in media. I’m not sure I would have pursued this career without them. I think a lot of writers our age relate to that, especially since it felt like the job in every early-aughts romcom. Even though The Devil Wears Prada is technically a cautionary tale—showing that the glamour comes at a cost, whether that’s your social life, relationships, or just having time to enjoy yourself—I definitely ignored the warning signs and chased it anyway. The movie also instilled this idea, which can be unhealthy, that there are a hundred other girls who would kill for this job. I’ve told myself that more times than I can count, and it’s part of what’s kept me in underpaid or, at times, toxic environments.
I still love the film and think it’s actually pretty realistic. I’ve missed countless birthday parties and still don’t have time to find a boyfriend. At the same time, it’s hard not to feel a little disheartened knowing we’re no longer in the golden age of fashion magazines, watching something that once felt like such a behemoth shift just as I finally fought my way in.
That said, there are parts that feel incredibly unrealistic. For a movie that inspired so many of us to pursue this path, it glosses over the reality that most people in fashion come from money or have connections, and Andy’s kind of success rarely happens in the real world. But it’s a movie, not a documentary, so maybe it’s on me for taking it so literally.”—Iman Balagam, 29, fashion and beauty writer




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