This review of The Devil Wears Prada 2 contains minor spoilers.
My college friends have always been confused about what I actually do for a living. Some think I’m forever hobnobbing with celebrities and know exactly who’s dating whom but have been sworn to secrecy. Some think I’m always scavenging for a story, no matter where I am. Some think I never have to pay for meals at a restaurant. Only those closest to me know I spend most of my time hunched over a laptop, zooming into PDFs and leaving comments on Google Docs submitted by contributing writers.
Does anyone really want to be a journalist in 2026? We’re a strange breed: underappreciated, underpaid, overworked, first in the firing line when it comes to jobs that AI will render obsolete. Nobody wants to read anything that can’t fit in an Instagram carousel. Nobody wants to write anything that isn’t a hot take. But you wouldn’t think it to look at my inbox. Every day, I receive at least 75 emails from young writers hoping to become journalists. And at least 45 of those 75 emails begin with “I’ve wanted to work at Vogue ever since I watched The Devil Wears Prada” or some version of it. “How similar is it to The Devil Wears Prada?” is also the question I get asked most frequently about working at Vogue.
So when I was invited to watch The Devil Wears Prada 2 ahead of its global release on May 1, I felt like it was my journalistic responsibility to watch it with my colleagues and friends who worked at other publications. I can’t say that I’ve watched the first part “so many times”, like those around me had, but it was obvious that all of us had been Andys, some of us had turned into Emilys and one of us would probably be Miranda someday. (None of us would be Nigel; we could never have his grace or kindness). Sat straight in our seats with our popcorn and Coke—which would have been Diet Coke had we not been in the middle of a global shortage—we prepared to get reacquainted with our on-screen doppelgangers for the next two hours.
Except we ended up seeing more of ourselves on screen than we wanted to. The spoiler-free plot of The Devil Wears Prada 2 is that Miranda must steer Runway through the Dark Ages of publishing. Editors are at the mercy of advertisers. Entire teams are laid off via email. Writer budgets are slashed. Seasoned journalists are forced to sit at the same table as men in suits talking about profit-sharing and marketing decks. All of these phenomena occur in the movie. But they aren’t hyperboles for what’s actually happening at publications today. If anything, they are facsimiles—and a rather grim reminder that our days of glory are numbered.
Disclaimer : This story is auto aggregated by a computer programme and has not been created or edited by DOWNTHENEWS. Publisher: vogue.in
