Jul 1
Amari Mari, Miranda Priestly's First Assistant (The Devil Wears Prada 2, 2026)
Amari Mari, Miranda Priestly's First Assistant (The Devil Wears Prada 2, 2026)
Mind you, this is how they look at each other...
How sweet it is to be part of Devil Wears Prada 2! Even sweeter getting to walk the carpet with my love @DangeRussWilson 🖤
This sachston fic about the 20 yr gap in emily’s perspective is SOOO good it’s canon to me
https://archiveofourown.org/works/84146421/chapters/221887206
Everyone go read it!!! so underrated.
Why is no one talking about the Runway Magazine drop???? We get a letter from the editor (Miranda!) AND her signature😍 it's so lovely! Plus, Andy writes an article on Emily! Everybody, drop what you're doing!
https://runwayonline.com/editors-letter
Read Runway editor Miranda Priestly's spring thoughts in the May issue's letter from the editor.
Il diavolo veste Prada 2
Sono uscita ieri sera dalla proiezione de Il Diavolo Veste Prada 2 con una sensazione mista, quel classico "Nì" che accompagna le operazioni nostalgia non del tutto riuscite. Se il primo film del 2006 era un manifesto di un’epoca in cui le riviste dettavano legge, questo sequel ci ricorda brutalmente che vent’anni, nell’era degli algoritmi, sono un’era geologica. Il primo tempo è un continuo, quasi estenuante, rimando a ciò che è stato. Una serie di citazioni e richiami che sembrano voler rassicurare i fan come me della prima ora, ma che finiscono per frenare il ritmo del film. Si ha la sensazione di guardare un album dei ricordi, piuttosto che una storia nuova. L’aspetto più strano è poi vedere come Miranda Priestly abbia dovuto, suo malgrado, adattarsi alla cultura del politically correct di oggi.
La straordinaria "Queen" di Runway si muove oggi con estrema cautela: la vediamo attenta all’uso dei pronomi, ai termini e gesti non discriminatori e impegnata a promuovere l'impiego delle minoranze in redazione. È una Miranda che lotta per restare rilevante in questo nostro mondo che ha smesso di leggere riviste e, paradossalmente, ha smesso anche di andare al cinema. Questa sua versione "addomesticata" dalle regole delle Risorse Umane, toglie inevitabilmente quel pizzico di sarcasmo che l'aveva resa un'icona.
Il secondo tempo, girato nella splendida Milano, ha decisamente più mordente. L’atmosfera meneghina dà una scossa alla trama, ma non basta a salvare alcune scelte di cast. Ho trovato l’interpretazione di Anne Hathaway sorprendentemente ingenua: una recitazione che è sembrata immatura per i tempi e per "l'expertise" che il suo personaggio (e l'attrice stessa) dovrebbe avere oggi. Un vero peccato. Sulla carta l’idea sembrava ottima, ma all'atto pratico il film scivola spesso verso un immenso ADV alle grandi case di moda. Più che una critica o una satira al sistema, com'è stato il film precedente, a tratti sembra una lunghissima brochure pubblicitaria patinata. Nonostante le mie critiche, il film mi ha regalatp un momento di pura magia nel finale, quando la tensione tra le due storiche nemiche-amiche si scioglie. Emily (la bravissima Emily Blunt), rivolgendosi ad Andrea (Anne Hathaway), lancia una perla assoluta "I carboidrati condivisi non hanno calorie", frase-manifesto che, diciamocelo, dovrebbe essere stampato immediatamente su migliaia di t-shirt. Sarebbe l'unica vera idea moda rivoluzionaria di questo sequel!
In definitiva, Il Diavolo Veste Prada 2 è un esperimento interessante, ma a mio parere conferma quanto sia difficile riportare in vita certi miti senza snaturarli o renderli schiavi dei tempi che corrono. Miranda ha cambiato linguaggio, ma io preferivo quello duro e scorretto di vent'anni fa.
Tempo di lettura: 1 minuto scarso
Tempo di riflessione: dipende dai vostri neuroni
Si consiglia di leggere il post ascoltando KT Tunstall, perchè anche la colonna sonora di questo sequel non è all'altezza del precedente!
I saw the Devil Wears Prada 2 at the movies today and it was so good. A good sequel, especially if you enjoyed the first one. I won’t spoil it but it has a great ending. I also bought this shirt on Amazon just to go see it. Unfortunately the movie theater didn’t have any movie posters for the Devil Wears Prada 2 but I’ll go to a different movie theater next time for a poster with the shirt 😊🍿🥤🎬📽️😈👠👗👚
From Runway to Algorithms: What The Devil Wears Prada 2 Says About Media Now
I did not expect a sequel like The Devil Wears Prada 2 to feel like a media studies class, but here we are. I grew up watching The Devil Wears Prada and, at the time, Runway felt like the center of everything. It was a physical magazine, something that had weight to it. Fashion was curated, slow, and controlled by a clear hierarchy.
Watching the second film twenty years later felt like stepping into a completely different media system.
Runway is still there, but it does not feel like it runs anything anymore. It feels like it is trying to survive inside a system that has already moved on.
In the first movie, the magazine had authority. What got published mattered because institutions like Runway were gatekeepers. They decided what counted as culture. In the sequel, that gatekeeping role is almost gone. Instead of setting the agenda, Runway is reacting to it. The real power sits outside the magazine, in platforms, algorithms, and audience behavior.
That shift connects directly to what we have been reading in class about how media systems actually function, especially the idea that media is never neutral even when it claims to be.
One way to understand what is happening in the film is through the idea that propaganda is not always about obvious messaging. It is often about structure. When Edward Bernays writes about public relations shaping perception, he is not just talking about propaganda campaigns. He is talking about how attention itself can be guided. What people think is important is often shaped before they even realize they are being guided.
In the first film, Runway shaped attention directly. In the second, attention is shaped elsewhere first, and Runway is forced to follow it. Trends are no longer created in a magazine office. They are generated through feeds, engagement patterns, and viral circulation. The magazine becomes reactive instead of directive.
That change also reflects something closer to what George Orwell warned about in his writing on language and power. The concern is not just censorship. It is the slow shift in what feels normal to say, publish, or even think about. In the movie, nothing is explicitly censored, but a lot is still left out because it does not fit what the system rewards. The result is a kind of soft narrowing of content. Not by force, but by design.
That is where the propaganda model we studied becomes useful again. Herman and Chomsky argue that media systems filter information through structures like ownership, advertising, sourcing, and profit. What looks like free flow of information is actually shaped by incentives.
In the sequel, those filters feel even more aggressive than in the original film. Runway is no longer just dealing with advertisers in a traditional sense. It is dealing with engagement metrics that function like constant evaluation. Content is not just judged after it is published. It is optimized before it even exists.
That changes what gets created in the first place.
Instead of long, carefully developed editorial pieces, there is pressure for fast, visually appealing, and easily shareable content. The logic is simple. If it does not circulate quickly, it disappears. That is not a creative decision. It is a structural one.
Sourcing also looks different now. In the original film, authority came from editors and established fashion figures. In the sequel, authority is much more fragmented. Influencers, digital creators, and branded personalities all function as sources of legitimacy. But many of them are also tied directly to sponsorships and marketing relationships. So the line between reporting, promotion, and performance becomes very thin.
That is not just a stylistic change. It reflects a broader shift in media where content and advertising are no longer separate categories. They operate together inside the same system.
What stood out most to me is how the film shows speed replacing reflection. In the first movie, there was time built into the process. Ideas were developed, refined, and edited. In the second, everything moves faster. Content is pushed out to match trending cycles rather than editorial judgment.
That speed has consequences. It changes what counts as important. Stories that require context or patience lose out to stories that can be consumed instantly. Even serious topics get reshaped into shorter, more emotionally charged versions of themselves.
This is where journalism starts to feel unstable in the film. Not because it disappears, but because it has to constantly justify its existence in a system that rewards immediacy over depth.
There is also a subtle shift in power that the movie captures well. In the original film, power was concentrated in figures like Miranda Priestly. In the sequel, power is dispersed. It sits in algorithms, audience behavior, and platform logic. No single person fully controls it, which makes it harder to identify but not less influential.
That diffusion creates a different kind of pressure. Instead of responding to one gatekeeper, media now responds to a constantly changing set of signals. What performs well becomes what matters. What does not perform well disappears.
And that brings me to what the movie is really showing about journalism today.
It is not that journalism is gone. It is that it is being pulled into a system where attention is the main currency. That system rewards speed, emotion, and visibility. It does not reward depth in the same way.
So what used to be careful reporting starts to compete with gossip, entertainment, and algorithm driven content that is designed to circulate quickly.
The result is not a clean replacement of old media with new media. It is a blending of everything into one environment where distinctions are harder to maintain. Journalism, marketing, entertainment, and commentary all exist in the same space, often packaged in similar ways.
That is what makes the film feel realistic. It is not exaggerating media change. It is showing how messy it already is.
By the end, what stuck with me was not just the fashion or nostalgia. It was the sense that media institutions are no longer operating from a position of control. They are operating from a position of adaptation. And adaptation in this case means constantly adjusting to systems they do not fully control.
Runway is still trying to define taste. But now taste is shaped elsewhere first.
That reversal says a lot about where we are.
The movie does not give a clear answer about whether this is good or bad. It just shows the trade off. More access, more voices, more speed, but less stability, less depth, and less time to think before something becomes public.
And that is what makes it feel connected to real life.
Because outside the film, we are all moving inside the same system. We scroll, react, share, and move on. And somewhere in that cycle, real reporting has to fight to stay visible.
The question the film leaves open is not just what journalism becomes, but what we are willing to let it become in an environment that never slows down.