Apologies abound. Reportage is slow. We went Mother’s Day weekend, Middle Chicken, Baby Pea, and Baby Pea’s mama. Yes, we want to know your thoughts. On what? The Devil Wears Prada 2, of course. Did you fall down and smack your little head on the pavement? Pfft.
Those of us who launched our careers in journalism weep alongside Andi Sachs. Gone are the days of objectivity, delving deep for a story, connecting with sources, and reportage, minus the worry over clicks, shares, and eyes. There was a time that reporting was simply reporting–who, what, when, where, why, and how instead of how famous, outrageous, ghastly, and opinionated. Devil mourns the passing.
Twenty years have taken a toll, Andi, but didn’t we learn the first time that clothes, shoes, and makeup can change your life? You should have kept the clothes from Paris. No one in their right mind would have given up those Chanel boots. It’s exactly why you return to the closet when you find yourself in a pinch, non?
However, I think we can all agree that the patchwork dress was hideous.
Gabriella has so many better alternatives, more Hampton-esque. Perhaps the maxi shirtdress in white–breezy, a bit preppy, or the ivory and black Larkin maxi–is much more East Coast understatement than the patchwork quilt. BTW-if Andi’s been so out of fashion, how was she giddy over Gabriella’s dress? Just observing. As a good journalist might.
Showstopper clothes–Miranda. But what did you do to her personality? Besides having to hang her own coat with a reference to HR violations, the wit and biting commentary are missing. Did we get too close to Ms. Wintour, giving her the chance to be in on the joke that we no longer want to hurt her feelings? Where is the real Miranda? Crying to a boyfriend? Who is this chick? And, as a girl whose former CEO tossed handbags in my direction, I can guarantee HR is not policing CEOs.
The real fashion winner, winner chicken dinner? Nigel. The first man ever to wear an over-large ring and not make a girl run for the hills. Exquisite suits, vests, ties, and perfectly tailored shirts. Men, where oh where have you gone?
Praise Emily. Gauthier pin-striped pants paired with a corset? My hand flew to my chest. Want. Dior cat-eye sunglasses. Need. And how are we feeling about a little capelet over a suit?
Questionable, making Emily the villain. Wouldn’t it have made more sense for Miranda to know everything? Needing help from Andi Sachs against a bunch of witless businessmen? Women like Miranda are not trumped. Ever.
One thing remains: The men are abysmal, save Nigel. The boyfriends-why? One compares selling apartments to saving journalism. Another pats Miranda on the head when she is bereft–as if bereft is in her emotional catalog. Bereft would not only not enter the room, but she would slice off the hand of someone attempting to touch her hair.
And never, ever, would Miranda Priestley feel the need to explain her love of work. Would not happen.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea. Everybody wants this. Everybody wants to be us.” Miranda fact.
I was berefit by the Devil Part 2, it was flat. I loved the brown/white plaid midi Andi wore at some point….it was though Miranda had checked out before the film started.