ELIAS-CLARKE
A black sedan pulls to a sudden stop outside the building. Emily begins rapid-fire dialing four
outside the building. digit extensions. "She's on her way— tell everyone!" Emily screamed. Just then a dapper man of about 40 walks briskly by.
"I thought she was coming in at 9." The man questioned Emily. "Her driver text-messaged.
Her facialist ruptured a disk. God, these people!" Emily complained in panic. God! This people are crazy over their boss, who even is she? A god or something. The man turns towards me and looks back at Emily. "I can't even talk about it." Emily rolled her eyes. No time to discuss. The man calls down the hallway.
"All right, everyone. Man your battle stations!"he shouted. "Did somebody eat an onion bagel?" The man said. I did? Yeah I did.. oh no, does is smell bad?!
ELIAS-CLARKE
The sedan door opens. We see only flashes of Miranda, what she's wearing, not the complete picture yet... Manolos, Chanel jacket, Van Cleef earrings.
Assistants frantically push clothing rails out of the way. Editors race into their office. Y/n peers in. One of the EDITORS changes from kitten heels to sky-high stilettos... another pulls on a body shaper under her dress. another hurriedly dumps the remains of her breakfast—some cubes of cantaloupe—into the trash...
We watch Miranda walking through the lobby. We see people react to her— Guards, Assistants, and Secretaries cower, Distinguished Executives bow their heads in respectful greeting. Miranda maintains a high rate of speed towards the elevator.
Emily races to the kitchen (right near their bullpen). Gets a glass, reaches into the fridge, pours a Pellegrino. Races into Miranda's office. Races back out. Grabs an armful of magazines and newspaper from her desk and runs back into Miranda's office.
Miranda steps out of the elevator and for the first time we see her head-on. Miranda's look is so distinctive you can spot her a mile away. She is unlike any other beautiful woman, singularly Miranda. Emily types frantically into her computer, presses print, stands by the printer waiting, takes the paper out of the printer, puts it on a clipboard. Notices Y/n.
"Oh no. You're still here. Go." Emily noticed me and said. Rude.. I get up from the chair. "No, stay. I don't want you walking past her. Just sit there and I'll pray she doesn't notice you marring the area." Emily demands. This woman needs to rest honestly. You look nice but you need to calm down or else you'll get a heart attack...
"Wow, this is like self-esteem camp." I said to myself. Until one moment a woman enters the office from reception. Instantly, a quiet falls. Everyone looks calm and professional. Or fakes it. "I don't understand why it's so difficult to confirm an appointment." The woman complained. " so sorry, Miranda. I did confirm
last night, but— " Emily apologized. Oh.. so she's Miranda.
"The details of your incompetence do not
interest me." Miranda said. She gestures impatiently. Emily hands her the clipboard.
Miranda peruses it as they walk down the hall.
"Tell Simone I'm not approving the girl
she sent in for the Brazil layout. I wanted clean, athletic, and smiling not dirty, tired and paunchy." Miranda said to Emily.
Emily follows Miranda like her mom. "RSVP yes to the Michael Kors party —the car will drop me at 9:30 and wait until I leave at 9:45...Tell Natalie at Glorious Foods for the fortieth time —no, I don't want the tortes filled with warm rhubarb compote. I want the chopped almonds." Miranda said, making Emily listen to her closely. I saw Emily jots everything down.
"Call my ex-husband and remind him the
Parent-Teacher conferences at Dalton are tonight. Then call my husband and tell him to meet me for dinner at that place I went with Massimo." I heard Miranda said. This woman has a lot going on early in the morning.. should I leave? Or just wait..
"Nobody. Human resources sent her up
about the assistant job and I was pre- interviewing her for you, but—" Emily spoke.
"I'll do it. The last two you sent me were total disappointments. Send her in." Miranda cuts Emily shortly. Emily walks out and Miranda pointed at me..
"She wants to see you.. Go go go..." Emily said, made me stand straight. And before I walk in, Emily takes my hideous briefcase and chucks it under a desk. That's just rude.. I walk in. Miranda's office is chic, clean, walls lined with photos by Avedon, Penn, Testino and Meisel.
I see large framed photo of Miranda, her husband I think and a twin girls.. she has kids?
The iced Pellegrino sits on a coaster on the desk. A pile of magazines is fanned out precisely on a table. "Who are you?" Miranda broke the silence. "My name is Y/n Y/l/n I recently
graduated from—" she cuts me off. "What are you doing here?" She asked.
"I think I could do a good job as your
assistant and—" this woman loves cutting people while talking. She gave me a look. Unimpressed one. "I came to New York to be a journalist and I sent letters to everyone and I finally got a call from Elias-Clarke and met with Sherry in Human Resources and basically it's this or Auto Universe." I blurted out.
I stopped, can't quite believe I said that. "So you don't read Runway?" Miranda asked. "No." I answered her giving me the look of
disappointment. "And before today, you had never heard of me?" That's true..Miranda asked. "No." Should I suppose to know? I answered her. "And you have no style or sense of
fashion." That's just rude, sweater looks nice.. I thought. "That depends on—" I said. "That wasn't a question." She said. I just realized that the woman in front of me.. speaks soft that touches your heart like a wind. And pale as her white hair that compliments herself.
"I was Editor in Chief of the Daily
Northwestern. I won a national competition for college journalists with a series on the janitor's union—" I explained. Miranda holds up her hand.
"That's all." Miranda said with her soft voice. Startled by the abruptness, I kept talking. "that uncovered the exploitation of—" I continued.
Thank you for stopping by and reading. I decided that I'll make a book about this movie, one of my comfort films! I'll update soonest!
-author🌞
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.
