A Million Sequels Would Kill for This: The Devil Wears Prada 2 Makes a Statement

Under the veneer of glamour and Miranda-one-liners, The Devil Wears Prada 2 speaks volumes about the state of journalism, magazines, and career writers.

In the 2000s, The Devil Wears Prada brought us the glamor of Runway, but it also taught us the adversities of the fashion writer, the aspiring journalist, the yearning assistant: ruthless bosses, blisters of a desperate search for scarfs across NYC in heels, the devil that is carbs (and the ever-presence of diet culture), a boyfriend who wants you rotting inside your tiny apartment, and even the potential to be hit by a rogue cab. 

Now, The Devil Wears Prada 2 brings us a new look into what plagues the fashion media industry (and beyond) of the 2020s, and it is reaching every corner of the industry at large: tech billionaires who pontificate on the uses of AI in front of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper, the sons of businessmen who gut the soul of out their father’s legacies in favor of a sports-polyster polo and a pair of AirPods, the McKinsey team who is the scapegoat for it all, the defunded writers, journalists, media outlets—a whole ecosystem of staff extinct via mass text. 

All of these realistic, existential points of tension brought to a blockbuster film speaks volumes about the state of journalism, magazines, and career writers and the ‘downsizing’ (borderline evisceration) of local outlets, larger outlets and magazines only safe under the wing of their investors and marketing deals. 

Yet, it’s all accomplished under the veneer of iconic NYC shots, fashion-forward business casual, runways, Miranda-one-liners, and nostalgia in the company of characters the audience has waited 20 years to see again. 

Of course, a key component of the film is the looks. What they were shooting for the magazine in the background of scenes was absurd and borderline comical with bright colors, abstract shapes. Many obscured the faces of the models, speaking to the anonymity of our oversaturated micro-and-macro-celebrity market today (and how anyone can be a spokesperson for a brand today). In the 2000s film, the looks featured collages of animal print, surprising silhouettes, bold appliques. In the 2020s, designers and stylists are in a shock-factor arms race, and Runway is keeping pace. 

Miranda, Emily, and Andy’s looks juxtapose the loudness of the magazine shots with an elevated, designer-studded-and-branded business casual with pops of surprising color, pattern, and tailoring. Some favorites were Andy’s Hamptons dress, Miranda’s grey silk skirt and blazer combo, and Emily’s use of Dior’s classic newsprint.  

Each characters’ trajectory felt realistic to where they might be today. Andy lived her dream of being a journalist, chasing stories around the world, but at present, facing the mass extinction of the entire media industry. Emily moved on to a high-power marketing role at Dior, though she yearns for status at Runway. Nigel is ever-present, reliable at Miranda’s side. There’s a melancholy to his quiet steadiness that kept him static over all these years, which leads to a very touching moment when Miranda, prompted by Andy, notices that Nigel may have wanted a larger, more public role all along. 

The most vivid metamorphosis is Miranda, who is struggling in the digital world of app-driven publishing, corporate overseers, investors, HR regulations. She seems underwater, and her assistant Amari is used less as a punching bag and more as her PC-meter. Yet, she retains all the quippy one-liners of her old self and the wherewithal to forget who Andy is entirely (or at least posture as if she does in some kind of powerplay) and attempt to make her life difficult in her loving, Miranda way. 

There are a lot of marketing placements in the film, Coke, Dior, etc., and many celebrity cameos that show the scale of the movie (anyone from Amelia Dimoldenberg to Donatella Versace and Law Roach). The line between showcasing a modern world and the brands that exist within it v. advertising is thin, and The Devil Wears Prada 2 skates by, especially as its own marketing campaign mirrors life in a campy, fun way. 

Editions of Runway are published and sold. Anna Wintour is seen left and right at fashion events with Meryl Streep, playing into the Miranda role and mirroring what Miranda has had to do in the movie: appeal to public perception, hire PR, work on her image. 

Overall, the Devil Wears Prada 2 is a success of a sequel that grapples with the modern day just as the 2000s original did, while giving us all the glamour and nostalgia of the fashion world and characters we fell in love with. 

Now, we wonder: how will this piece evolve over time? The first film feels like a 2000s period piece. In the 2040s, will society look back at the racing social age, everpresent AI, ozempic, recording devices, memification, and even a McKinsey team with nostalgia? 

You never know. We’ll have to see what our society becomes, what we’ll face, to know what we’ll miss about today. As Emily says, “may the bridges I burn light my way.”

May 3, 2026.