Guest Op-Ed : Surabhi Srivastava
Spoilers ahead.
Stunning shots of New York City. People with perfectly sculpted bodies, white teeth, and outfits. Exquisite (but also sometimes baffling to me) style, clothes, and shoes. And a happy ending. Yes, I finally watched The Devil Wears Prada 2 this weekend. Partly because of nostalgia (for NYC) and partly because I wanted to escape all the depressing news and events in the world today, if only for a couple of hours.
My verdict: The movie is okay and perhaps a one-time watch (I didn’t anticipate otherwise). But unexpectedly, it also has something insightful to say about the state of journalism in the world today.
Now that was a plesant surprise.
As someone who works in the media and journalism space, this aspect of the movie was quite intriguing for me, more than the amazing locations and clothes, probably because it was perhaps the only element that made the movie ever so slightly believable (I am still trying to wrap my head around how anyone, let alone a journalist, is able to afford a luxury apartment with a great view in NYC. Plus, why do these movies always show women going crazy over getting a Fendi or Gucci bag? It’s ridiculous!).
The movie plot centers around the struggle to save the iconic (fictional) fashion magazine Runway, which in 2026, just like any other publication, owing to the rapid digital transformation from print to website to social media, is struggling to stay ahead of the curve, while confronting constant online trolling, loss of revenue due to little interest in its print edition, the never-ending chase and pressure to remain viral and relevant in the era of information overload, and a flawed editorial decision, by its equally iconic, suave, and dreaded high-glamour editor-in-chief, Miranda Priestly (played by the stunning Meryl Streep) that impacts the bottom line of the magazine’s advertisers (who are keeping the magazine afloat) and its publisher (who loves the magazine as a brand, but needs to see that love reflected in its revenue numbers).
Enter investigative journalist Andy Sachs (character played by equally stunning Anne Hathaway), who is brought back to Runway to help it regain its credibility and original voice — through its feature articles and deep dives — that expound on “serious” issues that plague the fashion industry, but also admit to wrongdoing and mistakes made by the magazine, in service of authenticity and building trust with its audiences.
Now, I actually liked this part of the movie (even if it was not entirely believable), whereby a popular fashion magazine could also become a vehicle for relevant public interest stories about systemic issues and challenges that are embedded within and impact the fashion industry, explaining to its audiences how fashion is yet another sector that is also battling symptoms of late-stage capitalism, monopolisation, and worker exploitation — mirroring other industries and sectors globally.
In fact, I would be tempted to buy a (fictional) subscription to Runway, less to “explore” the spring and summer collection offered by Chanel or any other luxury fashion brand, but more to read a well-done deep-dive investigative story, even if it’s about the fashion industry (I can’t help it – I love long-form content!).
But even in a movie, sometimes, reality is too urgent and pressing to escape.
In this case, when the magazine’s long-time owner dies suddenly, the future of the magazine lands in the (MBA) hands of his son (played annoyingly well by B.J. Novak), who treats Miranda’s editorial leadership and expertise with little regard and instead, brings in a team of over-confident management consultants to restructure the magazine — particularly axing the features department — that was, through Andy, at least trying to incorporate some good public interest and investigative journalism into the magazine. The rest of the movie, thus, revolves around Miranda and Andy teaming up to save the magazine, and the story, unfortunately, is quite predictable (I reckon you have probably already figured it out – it’s by no means a Sherlock-level plotline).
But, what I found quite interesting in the movie was this one particular scene where Andy is lamenting to her date about how everything that was once original and innovative, has now been taken over by capitalists and wealthy monopolists, who are hellbent on consolidating and repackaging it all, to sell it anew — to both aspiring, as well as the wealthy consumer class — at exorbitant and ridiculous prices. She describes, in the midst of tears and rage, how this has ruined affordable housing in NYC (while she herself owns one of these luxury NYC apartments in the movie) and yes, how it has also ruined journalism and media (while she works at a luxury fashion magazine).
Ultimately, all that the management consultants want is to make Runway profitable, with no regard for whether the magazine can even claim to offer anything authentic, original, and innovative — that aligns, or at least resembles, its essence and soul.
I couldn’t help but agree with Andy on this. I almost wanted to say it out loud in the movie theatre: I hear you!
We see this reflected in relation to media in our non-The Devil Wears Prada world as well, where space for independent, counter-cultural and subaltern media has shrunk significantly over the last decade. Mainstream media brands, in particular, are being bought and consolidated by a handful of wealthy men (primarily broligarchs), be it in the U.S. or in my home country, India, compelling these media brands to toe the business and editorial line of their owners. This has resulted in the incessant production of loud and nonsense garbage content and narratives (packaged as “news”) that seed and amplify stupidity, us. vs. them attitudes, polarisation and hatred, and obedience in service of a favoured political, technological, and economic ideology, trajectory, and future.
Any form of media that enables and allows for critical thinking, challenging the status-quo, and ascribes to propagating counter and alternative narratives is gradually squeezed out or put on life support — left to rely on funding support from subscribers (who themselves are being squeezed by a cost-of-living crisis, while the stupid and wealthy wage unnecessary and illegal wars) or forced to participate in the rat race for philanthropic and government funding that offers little in terms of stability and long-term strategic thinking and work.
Yes, the business model to support journalism and media is broken, by design.
If you are wondering if in The Devil Wears Prada 2, we find a solution to this quagmire that media and journalism finds itself in today, well the movie offers a solution — but a sloppy one that is merely a band-aid fix — and one that does little to solve the root problem that plagues media ownership.
For Miranda and Andy, it is yet another wealthy person, a woman, who agrees to buy Runway just in time, before it’s sold to another wealthy person by the MBA son of the now dead publisher. Bravo? Well, not so much, according to even Miranda. This is especially reflected in a scene towards the end of the movie, where Miranda makes a poignant remark (probably missed by most audiences) about how, for now, although she has managed to retain full editorial control of the magazine, as assured by the new owner of Runway, she can’t really be sure for how long that might remain the case.
Perhaps it was a signal for the potential plotline for The Devil Wears Prada 3? I can already tell that story doesn’t end well, except in a movie.
After all, media ownership in the hands of a few wealthy folks, even if these owners may have good intentions at the beginning, always runs the grave risk of interference and personal interests taking over the editorial decision-making, and impacting the credibility and trust built over years by a media brand. Alas, we all know what billionaire Bezos has done to the great media institution that was The Washington Post.
The real question remains — who should own journalistic and media publications? Some may think the answer depends on what kind of media brand it may be, for instance, should we really care about who owns a fashion magazine? Is it even really doing any form of public interest journalism?
I believe, it can and sometimes does, which means, that media ownership, across the board, should be about supporting production, distribution, and amplification of good and reliable information, that encourages people to think critically, ask questions, and make informed decisions — yes, even about fashion. Therefore, media ownership that is willing to invest in expertise, editorial independence, solid leadership, and good journalistic practices, is the one more likely to get audiences’ respect, confidence, and trust in the long run (supported by revenue growth and long-term sustainability).
I also strongly believe that billionaires should have NO business in owning media brands. Period. For them, it’s often another investment asset, an ego boost, or a means to achieve political ends. They are not in it to advance and sustain good journalism that challenges the status-quo or speaks truth to power. It just won’t happen.
Coming back to The Devil Wears Prada 2, I hardly expected the movie to say anything about journalism, let alone about media ownership, monopolisation, and as Andy put it “sucking the soul out of everything original” vibe that has hijacked much of our media, culture, and society today.
I wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the movie invites us to re-think originality and quirkiness (sadly, the movie reproduces and reinforces far too many tropes throughout). Yet, it indirectly, may spark (some) audiences to at least lament — what, if anything, in the age of algorithmically engineered reels and trends, and booming broligarchy, is original and authentic anymore?
That’s all.
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this guest essay are those of the author. RNW Media is not responsible for the opinions shared. This essay was originally published on Surabhi Srivastava’s personal Substack: https://substack.com/@thecuriousfeminist