The devil I await is the one wearing Prada, of course.
Though the idea of embodying the devil in female form is not terribly original, I tore through Lauren Weisberger’s payback of a novel, “The Devil Wears Prada“–a thinly veiled “fictionalized” account of Weisberger’s stint as the tortured assistant of none other than the Queen of Fashion herself: Anna Wintour, editor in chief of Vogue. The story is a deliciously hellish portrayal of the underside of the glitter and glamour of the runway and its fashionista critics and connoisseurs. I am excited to see it portrayed on the big screen when the movie version of “The Devil Wears Prada” opens tomorrow, and despite the fact that the famously fashionable are bemoaning the film’s “lack of chic” according to Ruth La Ferla’s article in today’s New York Times, “The Duds of ‘The Devil Wears Prada.’“
Though the film’s director, David Frankel, apparently aimed to create a “magical kingdom of fashion” for movie-goers, he missed the mark, La Ferla reports. Rather, the film portrays “a caricature of what people who don’t work in fashion think fashion people look like.”
Regardless of the pan–at least from the runway angle–I’m excited to see Meryl Streep’s stint as the devil in couture clothing as she plays the role of Miranda Priestly, the Anna Wintour-like character.