Chapter Text
Profile Request - Miranda Priestly
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hello, Andy! How are you?
This time, your special article will be for our Fashion section. The subject of your profile will be Miranda Priestly. We have already contacted her and she has agreed, so I’m forwarding you a copy of her schedule. The profile is due in January to launch our brand new column: Haute Couture. I hope to see a first draft in three weeks.
Good luck!
Robert Tauil
Editor-In-Chief
Miranda P. Schedule / 25-29th
Andy's face fell.
No. Fucking. Way.
At a loss for what to do, she laughed nervously. When she started writing profiles, she had aimed for dead people: former presidents, congressmen, writers, artists, chefs, and movie directors. Eventually, people grew to like those pieces more and more. Her last profile for the Mirror had been on Hillary Clinton, which had earned her an invitation to work at The Times. At The Mirror, Andy hadn’t actually spent any time with her subjects. At The Times, she managed a few interviews here and there. She had been able to spend a lot of time with her last few subjects, sometimes for months, before delivering the final piece. Her work had never been better and, to her younger self’s dismay, she loved it.
Now, a profile on Miranda Priestly? A written portrait. A damn masterpiece. And in less than three months? Andy should resign right now and save herself the time and stress. Miranda would never settle for anything less than perfection, and neither would Andy’s boss. Fuck. It wasn’t even 9 AM and she was already dying for a glass of wine.
Staring at her screen, she figured it might be best to get started. After that almost-year at Runway, Andy had learned a few things, and one of them was: if you got a job, you did it. There was no use complaining or crying about it. At least in the research phase, she wouldn’t have to spend day after day with Miranda again. Besides, she was already late, as was often the case when Miranda was involved.
She typed google.com and started looking for anything available online, along with her faithful notebook, where she took notes on the most interesting things.
-
By two o’clock, she had swept the internet. Anything new now was either fake or exaggerated, and Andy couldn’t imagine asking Miranda if those things were true or accurate. Those sites made Page Six seem moderate. The blogs ravaged Miranda’s personal life as if it were a public matter and painted the woman as if she blew fire on a daily basis.
Yeah, Miranda was a bit uptight, but Fashion Monster? Dragon Lady? From saying she was unaffectionate with her kids to calling her frigid and cold outright… People really made an effort at bad journalism.
Andy dialed the Times Archive’s number and waited for Ms. Green to pick up.
“Hi, Ms. Green. How are you doing today?”
“Hi, Andy! I’m fine, sweetie. How are you, dear?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Hey, I’m looking for anything on Miranda Priestly. Do you have anything I can use?”
“The Runway Editor-in-Chief? Oh, of course—there are so many things. It’ll take me at least an hour to sort it out. Anything specific?”
“About her personal life, if you can… I’m writing a profile on her.”
“Oh! I can’t wait to read it! It will be amazing, my dear, I’m very sure!”
“Thank you, Ms. Green. See you later.”
Ms. Green was an old lady who used to be a reporter. After her retirement, she had taken the place of the older archive lady. Many good things would come if you stayed on her good side, including her absolutely amazing research skills.
-
Almost two hours later, Andy returned to her desk with so many newspapers that they covered her head. Robert, her boss, was just passing by when she dropped that paper mountain in front of her.
“Ah, I see you’re already working on the Dragon Lady’s profile!”
“Yeah…” Andy sighed. “She’s a handful, really. To think I never imagined her existence until I worked for her and still…” She looked at her desk, astonished.
“I mean, look at this. Years and years back, and she was already crawling out of the tiniest of notes, making her way up to be…” Andy picked the first newspaper from the pile and read the headline aloud: “‘The Fashion Goddess.’ Impressive, to say the least.”
“Well, let’s hope you’ll manage to spend some more time with her, huh? At least get an interview. The team is waiting for your text to be brilliant, just like always.”
“Yeah… Let’s hope!”
But if Andy was honest, she didn’t hope at all. After Miranda’s little stunt in Paris, the “everybody wants to be us” bullshit and the way Miranda had treated Nigel… Andy was grateful for her recommendation to work at The Mirror and all, but spending time with Miranda was a little too much. Also, she already had so much material to work with, even though it was undeniable that her work would be improved by how much time she could spend with Miranda.
Robert wasn’t listening to her thoughts, though, and so he went on.
“So, leaving the old rag aside, I’ll go grab a bite. Wanna come along?”
“Oh, no… I’ll order something later, thank you.”
“You sure? I can be good company, someone to talk to!”
Andy winced internally. Oh, Robert…“Um… thanks a bunch, but don’t worry.”
“Okay! If you change your mind, I’ll be at Kosovo’s down here.”
Andy grinned. Robert’s persistence was something to behold. Andy had been at The Times for almost a year now and, since the first time she had crossed the doorstep, Robert had laid eyes on her and never retreated.
Not that he had been explicit, no, but he was adamant about letting her know that he would always be there if she needed anything; forever grabbing a bite and inviting her over, all too ready if she wanted so much as a cup of coffee. Andy had understood it a long time ago, but she didn’t want to dip into company ink, as they say.
Besides, since Nate had left for Boston and they had broken up, she was a little jaded. Of course, there had been other men... Four years of chastity wouldn’t do... But it seemed like Andy’s interest was much harder to get than she had anticipated. Even the charming Christian Thompson had failed the task, though she couldn’t say he hadn’t tried.
Glancing at her desk and the multitude of papers, she decided to continue working from home, since she wouldn’t finish that part of the research by the end of her shift. Before she went home, though, she emailed Miranda’s newest second assistant, Julia.
Miranda Priestly Profile
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hello.
I’m Andrea Sachs, from The New York Times, writing a profile about Miranda for the brand new column Haute Couture. I’m getting in touch to know if Miranda is still free tomorrow morning. I was hoping to stop by and ask some questions for my initial draft. Please let me know.
Andrea Sachs
Senior Reporter
-
When she arrived home, after putting down that enormous stack of paper on her shabby little coffee table, she fired up her computer and waited for it to connect while drinking her much-needed wine. The little voice inside the machine uttered “You’ve got mail!” and she clicked on it.
ANSWER: Miranda Priestly Schedule
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
She’s free from 7 AM to 9 AM, as per the schedule.
Julia Von Kirch
Oh, the clackers. Andy didn’t miss them at all.
-
The next day, Andy grumpily woke up at 6 AM. She needed to spend a little more time on herself, so she got out of the shower and proceeded to do her hair and makeup. She still had (very few) Runway-related habits that she hadn’t let go of, so she got ready accordingly. Dressed in leather pants, boots and a beautiful brownish blouse that flattered her eyes, she glanced at the mirror before heading out and didn’t look half bad.
Standing outside the Elias-Clarke building by 7:15, she breathed nervously, her cheeks reddened by the chilly weather and her hands trembling a bit. Taking a hold of herself and undoing her loose ponytail, she entered, registered and grabbed the first elevator to the Runway floor.
-
It was all the same and entirely different at the same time. The wall colors were different now, little décor details on the tables and computers. Different pictures hung on the walls but once Andy looked around, the clackers were just the same. Different makeup brands, different hairdos, other trending colors, but the same attitude. It made Andy relax a little - she knew how to deal with them by now.
While at the reception, she was whisked away by a very familiar face.
“My, my, look at you!” Nigel said, smiling at her. “Andrea Sachs!”
“Nigel! Hello!” Andy said, chuckling, and suddenly her heart was a lot lighter. She hadn’t thought she would see Nigel. Suddenly the whole job didn’t seem so frightening anymore.
“So you finally came back to Elias-Clarke? About time, really. I’ve been following you in the papers.”
“Oh, no, no!” Andy gave a hearty laugh. “I’m here on the Times’s behalf. I’m writing a thing about Miranda… um, yeah.”
Andy fidgeted and Nigel grimaced.
“A thing?” Nigel frowned. “But I thought you were into breaking the next working-class revolution, sweetie.” At that, he smiled fondly.
Andy really smiled when she said, “Oh, Nigel, I’ve missed you.”
He was about to say something when a clacker scurried past them, seemingly about to cry. Andy looked at Nigel understandingly and made her way to Miranda’s office while he trotted behind the red-eyed girl.
-
When she entered that familiar room (its walls were the same but for the new mirrors from Sherry Hayslip—Andy had seen them in the latest Vogue issue), Emily was there. Since Andy had left, Emily had been promoted to Miranda’s personal assistant.
“Andrea.” She didn’t seem shocked but a bit intrigued.
“Hi, Em.” Andy looked around, seeing no one but Emily, who was now staring at the computer. “Where’s Miranda?”
“Not in my pocket, I’m afraid,” Emily kept staring at her computer. Andy couldn’t help but snort.
“Well, one can hope…” she said, her laugh sincere.
Emily smiled too now. Perhaps she hadn’t smiled, but Andy chose to interpret her expression that way. “She just went out for a Kate Spade pre-show. Didn’t the other girl tell you? Her only job is to confirm Miranda’s appointments, for Christ’s sake.”
“Erm… Actually, Julia told me Miranda would be here from 7 to 9.” Andy winced and glanced at the clock. 7:30.
“Oh, thank God it’s only you then…” Emily frowned, back to business. After a few seconds, though… “Wait.” She looked up fast. “Are… you… Are you the New York Times someone who’s writing a piece about Miranda?”
“Yep.” Andy nodded sheepishly.
“No. Way.” Emily paused, looking at Andy, her face almost proud. “Can you wait around? She should be back no later than 8:30.” Emily tilted her head to Andy’s old table. “Grab a seat, be my guest.”
She actually smiled as Andy moved across the office. “Great, you're definitely more capable than Jasmine...”
Andy tried to correct her. "Isn't it Jul..." but Emily sprinted to the ladies’ room and called over her shoulder “Mind the phone! That useless girl left ages ago and I have to pee!”
Andy took the seat, chuckling, and almost immediately the phone rang. “Miranda Priestly’s office? Oh, she’s not available right now, but I’ll let her know you called... No problem. Bye!”