the devil wears polyblend

The Devil Wears Prada ranks among my favorite films not just because I love Anne Hathaway, who by the way is the Anti-Lohan (whom I used to adore). She's the charming girl-next-door who kept her legs closed and yet managed to retain being one of Hollywood's celebrated "It" girl. I love TDWP because it's a feel-good, always-moving, kind of film. There never was a dull moment in the entire movie and just like Ugly Betty, it's actually fun seeing how the fashion industry works.


Anyway, I was able to watch it last week. On company time. I've already seen the movie a couple of times but the opportunity was so perfect - there I was complaining about having a bitch for a boss who treats her subordinates worse than a hired help and TDWP is all about that. Also, the movie is actually the best example of how corporate politics work though it is rather more dirty and less glamorous as it was portrayed in the film.

Instantly, I was Andy Sachs, an aspiring journalist who lands the job a million girls would kill for: personal assistant to Runway magazine's Editor-in-Chief, Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep). She puts up with the hell that is her job as she was told that her performance as Miranda's assistant is corollary to achieving her dream of being a writer.

And I reached Damascus in this scene:

Andy: She hates me, Nigel.
Nigel: And that's my problem because... Oh, wait. No, it's not my problem.
Andy: I don't know what else I can do because if I do something right, it's unacknowledged. She doesn't even say thank you. But if I do something wrong, she is vicious.
Nigel: So quit.
Andy: What?
Nigel: Quit.
Andy: Quit?
Nigel: I can get another girl to take your job in five minutes... one who really wants it.
Andy: No, I don't want to quit. That's not fair. But, I, you know, I'm just saying that I would just like a little credit... for the fact that I'm killing myself trying.
Nigel: Andy, be serious. You are not trying. You are whining. What is it that you want me to say to you, huh? Do you want me to say, "Poor you. Miranda's picking on you. Poor you. Poor Andy"? Hmm? Wake up, six. She's just doing her job. Don't you know that you are working at the place that published some of the greatest artists of the century? Halston, Lagerfeld, de la Renta. And what they did, what they created was greater than art because you live your life in it. Well, not you, obviously, but some people. You think this is just a magazine, hmm? This is not just a magazine. This is a shining beacon of hope for... oh, I don't know... let's say a young boy growing up in Rhode Island with six brothers pretending to go to soccer practice when he was really going to sewing class and reading Runway under the covers at night with a flashlight. You have no idea how many legends have walked these halls. And what's worse, you don't care. Because this place, where so many people would die to work you only deign to work. And you want to know why she doesn't kiss you on the forehead and give you a gold star on your homework at the end of the day. Wake up, sweetheart.

For a moment Nigel's words empowered me. For a moment I thought of reconsidering my options. But then again, I know myself better than anyone else. And I know that I deserve so much better. I deserve that kiss on the forehead. And that gold star too.

I closed the media player and prepared to go out for lunch. I already know the ending to TDWP - Andy, repulsed with everything, left Miranda, Runway Magazine and fashion behind and eventually landing her dream job as a journalist.

I am Andy Sachs.

I know how my story will end.