The Devil Wears Prada begins on a bright winter morning.
Andrea Sachs, freshly out of school and newly arrived in the working world, has an interview scheduled. She gets up early, showers, and carefully dresses in front of the mirror — hoping to face the day's test in her best possible state.
In the original novel, Andrea — Andy — is just an ordinary girl. The film's creative team had intended to present this opening as an "ugly duckling" moment: bare-faced and unremarkable while getting ready, then relatively transformed after makeup and effort.
But Isabella is not an ordinary girl. Even without makeup, the word "ordinary" has nothing to do with her.
So the audience's first reaction upon seeing her in front of the mirror isn't sympathy — it's admiration. And their second reaction?
She's adorable.
At this point in the story, Andy is still a girl fresh out of school. So even when she tries her best to look mature, the result is clean and fresh rather than polished:
She styles her slightly darker blonde hair in a more grown-up way, letting it fall over her shoulders. But her outfit has nothing to do with maturity — a black sweater, a beige coat, and knee-high boots that say "practical" more than anything else. Her slender brows and high nose bridge lend her face a sharper look, but the round-framed glasses she puts on instantly bring the student aura right back.
To highlight the contrast between Andy and the world she's about to enter, the director uses cross-cutting during this sequence. Upbeat music plays as Andy gets ready, and each bar of the song brings a scene transition: a panoramic view of New York; luxury apartments by Central Park; one fashionable woman after another getting ready in high-end residences. Countless luxury brands sweep across the screen — Chanel shoes, LV handbags, Dior perfume, Prada coats, CK underwear. Rooms full of designer goods, a paradise for those who chase fashion.
But in this film, those brands exist to highlight how different Andy's life is.
She can't afford any of it. The items she uses while getting dressed are all unbranded, everyday goods. New York offers her no warmth. She can't live in a luxury apartment or float out the door in designer clothes — she squeezes into a rented apartment with a friend. And even her commute sets her apart: while the glamorous women on screen take taxis at minimum, Andy leaves her apartment, stops at a nearby bakery for a bagel, and heads to the subway — coat wrapped around her, munching as she goes.
Watching her run down the stairs like a startled deer is undeniably cute. But the fact that she didn't stop for Starbucks makes her feel immediately, recognizably real. It's not that a bagel is the ideal breakfast. It's that holding a coffee cup makes it nearly impossible to squeeze onto a subway car. Coffee is a stimulant for working people — but not every working person has earned the right to one yet.
By the time Andy boards the subway and arrives at Runway's offices, her cautious eyes and slightly uneasy questions deepen her character further. Because everyone around her is polished — men in suits, women in elegant dresses. The environment radiates luxury, and with her simple shoulder bag, Andy looks like the definition of out of place.
She has arrived somewhere she doesn't belong.
"Oh — Isabella's acting is amazing!"
As the music fades, exclamations ripple through the premiere theater.
"She looks completely different — she's still beautiful, but — but —"
"But her aura is totally different!"
"Exactly! She used to carry so much confidence — whether it was Hermione Granger or Lily Zeller, they were always energetic. But now she just looks like an ordinary girl. Is that makeup?"
"No! Aura can't be faked with makeup — that's inner spirit. Her ordinariness right now comes from somewhere inside. God — was her acting always this good?"
"This is such a surprise."
"Doesn't the opening song sound great too?"
"I was too busy watching Isabella — didn't even notice the song. What was it? Did she sing it?"
"Doesn't sound like her."
"Ah — that's a shame. But also a relief. If it were her singing, I'd be devastated for missing a new song. That would make me look like a terrible fan."
Today's premiere is no different from others in its makeup — beyond the main creative team, there are friends and family, invited guests, media reporters, critics, and a remainder of lucky audience members selected by draw. With such a mixed crowd, perfect silence during the screening is impossible. But that's fine. The lucky viewers are either hardcore film fans or fans of someone in the production. There was still a selection process. So as long as no one causes real trouble, a few excited outbursts mid-film are entirely acceptable to the producers — and genuine audience reactions often become the most quotable moments in next-day coverage.
When those exclamations reach Isabella's ears, she presses her lips together and keeps her composure.
She likes being liked.
And yet — her acting isn't actually as impressive as people think. The reason she can portray ordinary life so naturally is simply because she used to live it. Something fabricated can never be entirely convincing, but something true remains true even when performed imperfectly. The so-called barriers of the entertainment industry are deliberately constructed by those with vested interests to protect themselves.
As for the song the audience just heard — it's Suddenly I See, the opening theme from the original version of The Devil Wears Prada in her previous life. Written and performed by Scottish singer KT Tunstall, released in 2004, it fits the film's themes so perfectly that Isabella had Warner acquire the rights, allowing it to open the film once more.
With a "ding," Andy arrives at the Runway offices.
The moment she steps out of the elevator, everyone who sees her reacts with visible surprise — someone like Andy clearly doesn't belong here. And since everyone around her is impeccably dressed, their curiosity and confusion come carefully packaged: the disdain that seeps from their bones is wrapped in studied composure. That affected, condescending rejection settles heavily in the room, and the unease in Andy's eyes grows stronger.
When she approaches the reception desk and mentions she has an interview, a shocked voice rings out immediately:
"Andrea Sachs?"
The speaker is a tall, sharply dressed woman with dramatic smoky eye makeup — Bryce Howard, playing Emily Charlton. The moment she takes in Andy's plain outfit, her face floods with disbelief. That unfiltered reaction makes Andy press her lips into a careful smile.
"Y — yes?"
That small, rabbit-like answer seems to physically deflate Emily. Her expression crumbles as if she's bitten into something rotten, and she raises her chin.
"Great. HR really has a sense of humor — hmph."
After venting her displeasure with a thin, forced smile, she turns without hesitation. "Follow me."
The commanding tone makes Andy even more uncomfortable. In a close-up, she exchanges a small smile with the receptionist — as if that brief moment of human connection is the only thing steadying her. Then she follows Emily through a long corridor toward the office of Runway's queen, Miranda.
Emily talks as they walk, rapid-fire:
"Okay — so I used to be Miranda's second assistant, but her first assistant just got promoted, so now that's me. I'm trying to find my replacement, but no luck so far. Miranda has fired two girls in the past few weeks — because we need someone who can handle high-intensity work. You understand?"
In a school setting, Emily would make an excellent language teacher — her machine-gun delivery could be lifted straight into a listening comprehension exam. But here, when she gets no response, she cuts herself off and looks back at Andy.
Andy nods immediately. "Yeah — of course —"
The answer satisfies Emily. She turns back to lead the way — then her body goes rigid and she nearly stumbles.
Because while nodding, Andy also asks:
"Who is Miranda?"
"Oh my God — you're asking me who Miranda is?"
Emily spins back around, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. She stares at Andy for a long moment, searching for any sign that this is a joke. Finding none, she shakes her head slowly — the look of someone who has already concluded this girl will not be passing the interview — and continues walking.
"She's the editor-in-chief of Runway. A legend. Work for her for a year and you can go anywhere in publishing afterward. There are girls who would do anything for this chance."
Andy looks genuinely delighted. "Wow — that sounds incredible. I'm honored to even be considered —"
Emily lets out a short, barely suppressed laugh before Andy can finish.
Whether they've reached their destination or she simply can't resist, Emily turns back one final time — face barely containing her amusement — takes a breath, and speaks with theatrical patience:
"Andrea. Runway is a fashion magazine. Passion for fashion is essential for the staff here."
Andy's expression twitches.
She isn't stupid. She knows exactly what Emily is doing. And yes — her taste is more practical than refined, not as polished as Emily's. But —
"So why do you think I'm not interested in fashion?"
After holding back the entire walk, Andy finally lets it out.
"Is it because of what I'm wearing?"
Bag in one hand, resume in the other, she spreads her hands slightly and shrugs. "If you decided I had no taste the moment you saw me, why didn't you just send me away then? If you brought me all the way here just to humiliate me — fine. But your behavior only makes me think the fashion industry is a small world, if someone like you can become chief assistant to a so-called legend."
"But if your will can't determine whether I stay or go —"
A flick of her wrist makes the resume rustle cleanly.
"Then right now, you should put this on your boss's desk."
She holds it out.
Her face is perfectly composed, even pleasant. "Sure — whisper whatever you like about me into her ear. Tell her I'm unfit, unsuitable, all wrong for Runway. But —"
"You don't get to make the final call."
Emily's pupils contract.
Andy's words land like a slap, and Emily's eyes narrow.
Onscreen, the tense standoff between the two sends the theater into cheers.
"Andy said it perfectly! You can dislike me — that's your right. But if you run your mouth to my face, I'm going to call it out, because that's mine. People have dignity!"
"That whole opening is so satisfying!"
And it works — not just emotionally, but structurally. Andy's caution at the start isn't weakness. It's setup. Her restraint and Emily's sharpness form a taut contrast, and when the release finally comes, it lands with full force.
And logically, it holds up. Andy may know nothing about fashion, but she took this interview seriously — the film shows her waking early, getting ready carefully, doing her genuine best. Her lack of fashion knowledge isn't a character flaw. She just graduated. Is it really so unreasonable that a young woman fresh out of university doesn't know how the luxury industry works?
How many people in this world have the money and time to dress themselves impeccably every day? Even well-paid professionals can be one bad month away from financial stress in a city like New York.
Once Andy has shown that she tried — once she's treated the process with respect — no reasonable person would expect her to feel ashamed simply because her outfit doesn't match the setting. So when Emily fixates on exactly that point and directs hostility at her, Emily becomes the villain the audience wants to see taken down. The embodiment of petty cruelty. And the one standing on the right side of things?
Andy — played by Isabella.
A protagonist can be hot-tempered or overly kind, but never stupid. No audience can sit through two hours watching an idiot. When Chris Columbus uses just five minutes to place Andy firmly on the side of justice, the tone of the film announces itself clearly:
This is a feel-good, cathartic film.
Back to the screen.
Andy's move throws Emily into visible panic. Just as she doesn't know what to do, her phone rings — Miranda is about to arrive at Runway headquarters.
Accompanied by urgent, energetic music, the editorial floor descends into chaos. Everyone scrambles to prepare, a scene so frantic it borders on feudal, leaving Andy quietly bewildered at the edges.
Then, cross-cutting:
The chaos inside the office set against the composed figure approaching outside.
With another "ding," Miranda officially appears before the audience for the first time. She removes her sunglasses with the ease of someone discarding something disposable, casts a glance at the flustered Emily, and in a calm tone with precise, cutting words, begins issuing the day's instructions.
The crisp, unmistakable London accent establishes her authority in seconds. Maggie Smith's flawless performance lights up the entire theater. In the audience's eyes, that proud, immaculate figure is a perfect embodiment of Miranda as written.
After making her dissatisfaction with Emily's recent work quietly clear, the thorn-covered queen notices the stranger in her domain. A single glance. Then she walks into her office — but not before asking, in passing:
"Who is that?"
Emily instinctively replies, "No one —"
She hears herself immediately and backtracks: "This is the second assistant candidate from HR. I was just interviewing her — she's completely unsuitable. Totally not a fit —"
"Clearly, this interview should have been conducted by me, since the last two people you selected were entirely inappropriate."
The light, offhand remark freezes Emily's face.
Not only because Miranda has just dismissed her judgment entirely — but because Andy had said, minutes ago, that Emily wasn't the one who got to decide. When the woman who looked down on Andy is swiftly crushed by someone higher up, the satisfaction in the theater is immediate. It's also an accurate portrait of how power actually moves.
When Andy walks into Miranda's office for the one-on-one interview, resume in hand —
"Who are you?"
"My name is Andrea Sachs. I just graduated from Brown University —"
"Why are you here?"
"I — I think I'm capable of being your assistant —"
Two short exchanges, rich in expression and gesture, ease Andy back into her "good girl" mode. The audience appreciates the shift. She pushed back against Emily because Emily was hostile first. Miranda, so far, has done nothing to warrant that sharpness. Keeping it holstered here makes Andy look like exactly what she is — bright, self-aware, and appropriately adaptable.
Unfortunately, normal behavior doesn't impress Miranda. After a brief glance at Andy, she simply returns to her newspaper.
When Andy finishes a long self-introduction and honestly admits that Runway wasn't her first choice —
That earnest candor makes Miranda look up.
"So you've never read Runway?"
"Uh — no?"
"And you only learned who I am today?"
"Uh — yes."
Andy nods awkwardly.
"You have no passion for fashion? No particular insight into it?"
"I think that's more a matter of personal taste —"
Miranda cuts her off. "No, no —"
Two quiet syllables. A dismissive flick of the hand, as if brushing away dust. Andy's interview is over.
"You're out."
Andy's face falls. She lifts her hands slightly and manages a resigned smile — just as Runway's art director Nigel walks in to report on work. As Andy moves toward the door, he glances at her and says casually:
"Who's this poor thing? Are we filming some kind of makeover show?"
Not cruel, exactly. Almost conversational. But the condescension lands hard.
The girl who was about to leave quietly stops. Something in her expression shifts — as if she's set down every last bit of weight she was carrying. She turns back to face Miranda, who is still working, and smiles.
"You're right, Miranda. I'm not suitable for this place."
"But I want to say something before I go. My resume tells you everything I have — my school, my grades, my abilities. I laid it all out. So let me ask you something in return."
"Runway might be a great magazine, and you might be the best editor in fashion. But there's clearly a serious disconnect between you and the people who work for you — or maybe they just have serious problems. Either way, that's worth thinking about."
"If what you want is an assistant with cutting-edge taste and deep fashion knowledge, you should have written that in the job description from the start, instead of wasting one girl's time after another. And honestly — if you had written that, you still wouldn't find anyone. Because people who truly understand fashion wouldn't accept the salary you're offering."
"To put it plainly: when you expect a twenty-year-old to have thirty years of experience, and you're offering 24/7 hours for a thousand dollars a week — that's not a job. That's a trap."
"The only person who would take it —"
"— is Miss Emily."
"Treasure her, Miranda."
"Because she's a girl who still believes in the dream — and is willing to keep paying for it."
Having deposited everything she needed to say, Andy turns and walks out — head high, unhurried, like someone who has settled an old debt. She leaves Miranda's office. She leaves Runway.
Behind her, Nigel — who lit the final spark — stands frozen, having entirely forgotten what he came in to say. Emily, who was stepping in to serve her boss, stands with her mouth open, blinking slowly.
In Emily's mind, Andy has clearly lost her mind.
But that clean, decisive exit — hit and run, no looking back — sends the theater into a roar.
"Andy said everything! Hiring is a two-way process! If you want to nitpick every candidate, then write your requirements clearly upfront! You can't say 'all are welcome' and then reject everyone — that's not a standard, that's chaos!"
"She just said everything I've lived through — she's incredible —"
"Isabella's acting is something else — first I can be civil, because we're all adults. But if you insist on being obtuse, don't be surprised when someone says so."
"The opening of this film is razor-sharp."
"This whole movie has teeth."
"Under Chris Columbus, has this become a story about young people fixing the workplace? Because if so, it's already more interesting than the original —"
"With this setup, Miranda is definitely calling Andy back, right? Because Andy impressed her. Showed her who she actually is. That edge?"
"Look — Emily's back — she appears just as Andy is returning her elevator card —"