FILM
Why ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ is An Excellently Flawed Feminist Movie
What the precursor to the girl boss taught us
Coming onto the screen at the height of 2000s cinema was The Devil Wears Prada, a film often denigrated as a “chick flick” which offers more wisdom than meets the eye.
All films have value, whether in entertainment or education, but The Devil Wears Prada excels in both. At once a demonstration of powerful and soft feminine leadership and a satirization of the corporate world, this cinematic masterpiece is feminist, if not anti-capitalist in its messaging.
Bearing in mind its of-the-time flaws, let’s take a look at what The Devil Wears Prada illustrates about corporate feminism nearly two decades after its release.
The Making of Miranda Priestly
To appreciate the brilliance of this movie requires a deep dive into the making of the Prada-wearing devil herself, Miranda Priestly. Meryl Streep famously method acted in this role, embodying the soft-spoken power of masculine figures such as Clint Eastwood and the humorous direction of Mike Nichols. The unpleasant experience for the actress was necessary to bring this complex character to life.
Miranda never yells, nor does she bring physical harm to anyone. Yet she always has command of the room; she is equally feared and respected by her employees and peers.
Before we had the girl boss, we had Miranda Priestly, who illuminates everything wrong about the blazer-clad successor. Regardless of gender, being a ruthless boss who throws your employees under the bus to save yourself is not something to be admired. While getting more women in leadership positions is a worthy goal, it doesn’t automatically mean workplace reform.
Meryl Streep’s cunning, feminine portrayal is a tribute to her acting talents, but Miranda Priestly would be an awful boss to have in real life, and that’s the point. Andy and her fellow Runway coworkers vie for Miranda’s approval, but they never like her.
Addressing the Flaws
In taking a look at Anna Wintour, the Vogue editor-in-chief who allegedly inspired Miranda Priestly’s character both in the original novel and in the film, we see an explanation for the flaws of The Devil Wears Prada.
Much like the film, Wintour has a diversity and fatphobia problem. Since her inauguration as the editor-in-chief in 1988, she has staunchly refused to include models of different races, body types, and ages.
The Devil Wears Prada echoes the same attitude, working in conjunction with early 2000s diet culture. As such, Andy’s size six and healthy appetite are regarded with open disgust by Nigel, Emily, and her other coworkers.
There’s also the movie’s absence of discussions around class or money, which is in line with any other movie set in New York featuring office workers somehow affording a decent-sized space within a commutable radius of their workplace. Considering Andy’s title is that of a second assistant and her boyfriend Nate is working as a line cook at a restaurant, it’s a wonder that she is only seen receiving a check from her father once.
The Devil Wears Prada fights back against the constraints of its time in defense of the fashion industry, so often cast off as “frivolous” because it is associated with women and femininity. Andy represents the patriarchal dismay towards the feminine in the infamous belt scene.
Miranda is not just eloquently reading her for filth, but the audience, who might agree with Andy’s take that all this “stuff” isn’t worth caring about because it’s typically women who indulge in the fashion industry.
The film, whether purposely or inadvertently, exposes the fashion industry for the multi-faceted, problematic institution that it is: a refuge for coded LGBTQ+ creatives like Nigel and an exclusive club to which historically marginalized groups aren’t allowed entry. Spots are missed, including the financial aspect, but The Devil Wears Prada otherwise stages a brilliant two-point attack on the fashion industry and toxic workplaces.
The Real Villain: the Corporate World or Miranda Priestly?
Working at Runway magazine wouldn’t be nearly so awful if it received the checks and balances the company is in dire need of.
For one, the overtime is seemingly unlimited, considering that Emily was routinely waiting each day until 10 P.M. to receive The Book before transporting it to Miranda’s house. Assuming she came in around 9 or 10 a.m., Emily was easily putting in 11–12-hour days, including an estimated time for the book drop-off and lunch.
Not to mention that, as said by Emily on the first day, the assistants are on-call all day. If one of them is out running errands, which seems to be often, the other cannot so much as leave their desk to go to the bathroom for fear of missing an important call.
While the pandemic ushered more calls for no-contact laws between employers and employees after-hours, they still aren’t in effect in the U.S., nor were they in 2006 when the movie takes place. If Miranda’s pages were limited to working hours, Andy would not have wasted a precious evening out with her father on the impossible task of getting Miranda on a flight back home in the middle of a hurricane.
Miranda is a villain surpassed only by the corporate world in which she is a major player. Everyone is rushing around to please Miranda, with little regard for Andy unless their ass is on the line with hers. Runway magazine, much like the corporate world in real life, is not about teamwork or professional growth necessarily, but about survival. It’s a dog-eat-dog world with capitalism as the venue and Miranda as a spectator.
The Nate (and Andy) Problem
Yes, Nate sucks, but primarily because of his abysmal communication skills with Andy. At the beginning of the movie, they come to an agreement that she will work for Miranda for a year to land her dream job as a journalist once her pre-determined tenure is over.
What is not stated, but is implied, is that she will be less available for that duration. From the first day, it’s clear just how demanding the job will be to Andy. While she didn’t state this outright, why does Nate not adjust his expectations for the upcoming year after hearing the first few stories?
Similarly, her friends are happy to collect the free stuff Andy gives them but lambast her when she’s excelling at her job. They unprofessionally play catch with her phone when Miranda is calling, impeding her professional obligations.
Their approach is wrong, and so is their target. Again, if Miranda had any checks and balances, Andy would have energy and time enough to give to her friends, but she and her friends have to make do. Besides, even if she did stand up to Miranda, Andy is powerless to change anything. Miranda reeks of union-suppressing tendencies, so you know there’s no group with which Andy can revolt.
In some ways, Nate and Co. serve as an anti-capitalist voice reminding Andy of her “true self.” To them, Andy’s sole personality trait is being an aspiring journalist who has ample time to devote to her friends.
When she took the job as a means of furthering her career (as a journalist) by pivoting to another aspect of the media industry, Andy reluctantly did so out of practicality.
In doing so, she gets hooked on the allure of the corporate fashion world. Walking into the office in her Chanel boots, she finds herself thriving at her job. She goes from the “not like other girls” trope to genuinely enjoying her job — until reality comes crashing down around her.
So while the concerns about Andy’s toxic workplace are valid, her morals aren’t in question. They are all trying to survive under the same capitalist system, it’s only Andy who discovers some new things about herself along the way.
Their anti-capitalist rhetoric is naive and not wholly thought out, but radical for the time. Andy’s friends want her to have the same work-life balance they seem to have. Since they all must work, Andy should have a career she enjoys — but the friends didn’t leave enough room for Andy’s interests to evolve.
Miranda smiles at the end out of amusement at Andy’s attempts to hold on to a constantly changing true self while navigating the workforce of New York. I like to think it’s the wisdom of an older woman who has sacrificed everything else to maintain her position of power in the corporate world. “Go ahead and try. Maybe you’ll have better luck than me,” she seems to say.
The Devil Wears Prada is more than a fashion movie or a “chick flick.” Its feminist and anti-capitalist themes deserve as much recognition as the fabulous looks onscreen throughout the movie.
Andy’s journey represents the average person (especially 20-somethings) struggling to stay afloat in this capitalistic world, enduring loss, trials, and changes for the better along the way. In the end, she learns the most important approval she can get is from herself.
That’s all.
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