STEAM ON A MIRROR
...wiped off by y/n y/l/n, 20's, pretty but not glamorous, 1 smart but green, hair up in a towel, brushing her teeth. We intercut y/n getting ready and... we see three or four other girls getting ready too.
A drawer filled with about forty lipsticks slides into frame... One of the girls carefully applies shiny lip gloss with a brush... y/n puts on cherry Chapstick... A lacy thong floats through the air... one of the girls pulls it up her glossy legs... A comfy cotton pair of Jockey bikinis is tugged out of a pile... y/n pulls them on...
Gorgeous pair of slingback heels. One of the girls pulls the shoes on while her model handsome boyfriend reclines on crisp white sheets, watching her.
A pair of comfortable wedges... y/n dresses, rumpled, unshowered, wearing an old Alice in Chains t-shirt, watches her, reclining in mismatched bed-in-a-bag sheets. A series of quick cuts... y/n eats a full breakfast -- eggs, bacon, bagel... One of the girls carefully counts out seven almonds and pours a huge cup of black coffee.
y/n straightens a pile of newspaper clips from the Daily Northwestern with the byline y/n y/l/n and proudly tucks them into her hideous college-graduation-present briefcase...
One of the girls takes Listerine breath strips, keys and a Gucci moneyclip and shoves everything in a tiny Fendi clutch.
NEW YORK CITY
The girls, looking flawless, fold their legs into taxis and town cars as y/n trots down the street and into the subway.
y/n strides into an office building, confident. A guard stops her. Indicates she sign his clipboard. She sign in. The guard speaks "Honey, you want West 57th." y/n runs, but she's moving against the pedestrian tide. We widen out to see y/n bucking the flow like a salmon going upstream.
She gets to an intersection, starts to cross the street... and just misses being decked by a bike messenger. Finally, ELIAS-CLARKE..
y/n sees a tower looming in front of her. Elias-Clarke. Streaming into the building are the polished girls in the opening... their heels click-clack on the concrete. They are the clackers of Elias-Clarke. y/n runs in. y/n is a shrub in a clacker forest. One turns to another.
"You look awesome today. I can't wear
cropped pants. I look like a whale." The clacker model greeted her friend. "Oh, please. I look terrible. I almost called in fat today." Answered.
y/n looks at them, then down at herself. If they're fat, what am I? Ding! Elevator opens and y/n exits. Resources Office. y/n sits across from sherry, 40's. On the wall are covers from the Elias-Clarke magazines -- a news magazine, a cooking magazine, a fitness magazine... and Runway. y/n is unloading clips from her horrible briefcase.
————————
Sleek, elegant, hard-edged chic. Behind the reception desk is an elegant logo that says runway. y/n walks over.
"Hi, I have an. appointment with Emily Charlton." I greeted the woman behind the receptionist desk. "y/n y/l/n?" Someone asked my name, turns and sees a taller, thinner and, amazingly, more groomed. This is Emily. She looks the part of the sleek fashionista, but is propelled by a core of barely tamped down anxiety. She examines me..
"Human Resources certainly has a bizarre sense of humor. Sigh, annoyed. Follow me." Emily briskly walks down the hall. "Okay, so... I was Miranda's second assistant, but her first assistant recently got promoted so now I'm the first..." I just nodded. I glimpses an office in front of me, seductively bright. "And you're replacing yourself." I stated. "I'm trying. Miranda sacked the last two girls after only a few weeks. We need to find someone who can survive here. Do you understand?" Emily said.
"Yes. Of course. Who's Miranda?" I asked innocently. Her eyes widened "You didn't just ask me that. She's the editor in chief of Runway. Not to mention a legend. Work a year for her and you can get a job at any magazine you want. A million girls would kill for this job." Emily said dramatically.
"Sounds great. I'd love to be considered." I answered. If millions of girls would kill for this job.. I'll take it. "y/n, Runway is a fashion magazine. An interest in fashion is crucial." Emily said rudely. "What makes you think I'm not interested in fashion?" Is she telling me I don't have a style.. I heard Emily's BlackBerry goes off. She gasps.
"Oh my God. No. No, no, no." Emily said, clearly panicking. "What's wrong?" I ask.
She's here.
YOU ARE READING
The Devil Wears Prada
Action...her name has become legend. Her magazine is the Bible for anyone interested in style, taste and sophistication. Without a doubt one of the most elegant women ever to walk the planet, I give you... Miranda Priestly.
