Assistants scramble across hallways signalling an entire office to change its rhythm. A few minutes later, a coat lands on the desk. A bag follows. And then orders are fired off in rapid succession.
When many of us first watched The Devil Wears Prada (2006), what stood out was obvious: the glamour, the fashion, the impossible standards, the sharp one-liners, and at the centre of it all, Miranda Priestly, commanding every room she entered with terrifying ease. Beneath her couture and cold stares was a leadership style that is both unsettling and awe-inspiring.
The sequel’s release last week raises an interesting question: has culture changed enough that Miranda now feels less aspirational and more alarming? Today’s working professionals confess, there is no easy answer.
Some like Shweta Balachandran (32), a product manager, perceive Miranda’s leadership style as “critical but not controlling.” She says, “Miranda lets people think freely but has very high standards for the result. It’s demanding but not suffocating.” While others like Shubhra Chakraborty (27), a video producer, believe that Miranda expects her employees to show results with vague instructions and most importantly without any emotional support. Sandhya Suresh (32), a marketing professional, concurs and says, “Miranda throws the persons working under her into the ocean with a wooden stick and asks them to bring back a Beluga.”
Other adjectives that were used while discussing Miranda were “selfish,” “intimidating,” “controlling,” “authoritative,” and “decisive.” They all admit they choose these words carefully because revisiting the film and now its sequel after experiencing different workplaces, managers, and team dynamics forced them with the uncomfortable question of if or not they would actually work for someone like Miranda Priestly? Perhaps more importantly, would they offer the same unwavering loyalty that her employees do in the film?
The answer, most believe, is shaped by the generation they belong to and the workplace ethics that generation was raised on. Sharon P (31), a corporate lawyer, says, “The work ideal that was instilled in me (a millennial) since childhood was that you have to do the grunt work and push through whatever hardship without a complaint if you want to succeed.”
Sanjeev Nivedan (32), an automotive engineer, corroborates and adds, “I think we millennials were brought up normalising that sort of behaviour. In school, a teacher slapping me or flinging my notebook outside the classroom was not considered rude or cruel; it was merely meant to encourage me to do better. It was never, ‘how dare someone treat you like that!’ It was always, ‘What did you do that made him slap you? Did he throw your notebook outside because you made a mistake?’ As a result, we think that someone constantly pointing out flaws is nourishing our growth.” When that mentality merged with the middle-class realities many like Sanjeev grew up with, the expectation became simple: keep your head down and work. Often, that also meant overworking, because more hours and more effort were seen as the price of financial growth and the promise of moving up the economic ladder.
Millennials also point to the fact that they grew up watching women fight their way through deeply unequal workplaces to earn leadership positions. Because of this, they admit they often view a certain level of toughness with understanding, and even respect women for it.
Azeefa Fatima (29), a journalist, expands, “Women were, only in our generation, seen in budding leadership roles. What we were taught is that such women should be arrogant, straight with their comments, be rude, shout, and make sure that people are scared of them so they are taken seriously.”
Sandhya adds, “But somewhere, when it becomes self-serving, like how Miranda takes, takes, and takes, without giving back proportionally, that’s when my generation starts to question it. Because we were also shown that leadership should carry some responsibility towards the people working below.”
Much of what Sandhya describes plays out clearly across both films. In the first film, Nigel Kipling (who probably could be a Gen X) believes Miranda will support his long-awaited career advancement, only for her to sacrifice his opportunity the moment her own position was threatened. Two decades later, the sequel suggests little has changed. It is only when Andy pushes Miranda to let Nigel take the lead, and when circumstances demand her attention elsewhere to secure her own standing, that Nigel is finally allowed the space to lead.
In stark contrast to the previous generations’ approach, Chakri Lakshmi (21), a journalist, distances herself from the Millennial’s point of view. “As a Gen Z entrant into the workforce, I expect a space where there is mutual respect, clear communication, and recognition of boundaries — none of which Miranda Priestly’s environment really offers.” Shubhra, too, asserts her firm belief in excellence but not when it comes at the cost of self respect and mental well being.
Referring to how Nigel swore his loyalty to Miranda and Runway despite never having received anything, Chakri rues, “I don’t understand how or why Nigel continued to put up with everything. For Gen Z, there’s a much clearer distinction between being in a space where both us and our work are valued.”
A gendered debate?
Consciously or unconsciously, society’s deeply ingrained ideas shape the way leadership is perceived, often in ways people do not immediately realise. Much of the conversation around Miranda Priestly is clouded by one such bias too. Gender.
Azeefa presents it bluntly, “We are discussing what feels acceptable and unacceptable only because Miranda is a woman. She is merely a by-product of the system and she became a part of the system to survive.”
Shweta weighs in, “The fact that we debate Miranda so much says more about our biases than her behaviour. A man doing the exact same things as Miranda would be called ‘quirky’ or even a ‘visionary’.” Sandhya too talks about how women who take up space and put themselves first are always questioned when opposed to a man.
This bias seeps into today’s workplaces too, as Gen Z has noticed how the bias hides behind the language used to judge a person in a leadership role. Chakri notes, “The language used to critique would differ for a woman when compared to a man. Miranda Priestly is often labelled ‘cold’, ‘ruthless’, and ‘arrogant’, whereas a man exhibiting the same behaviour might have been described as ‘demanding’ or ‘goal-oriented’, essentially just seen as a man who is a career-driven, output-expecting leader.”
But does acknowledging gender bias also mean excusing behaviour like commenting on employees’ bodies, sizing people up with visible scrutiny, or making unreasonable demands such as expecting to be flown out of a state during a hurricane? Absolutely not, and that is why the argument holds, they say.
Regardless of the unlike-ability factor, Azeefa believes that the admiration for Miranda comes with the field of work — journalism or fashion. “We admire her because we aspire to be in that position of control. As a woman in journalism, I know that most of us women feel so powerless. Even if we rise up to the ranks of senior associates, there is very little power in our hands.” She also goes on to talk about how these dualities exist in her field where younger reporters, writers, and sub-editors are constantly in awe of the women who are in positions of power. “I believe that it may be unique to the dynamics of our field,” she adds.
The films, too, choose to let its audiences dwell in these realistic dualities, but the sequel went a step further. In keeping with the much needed workplace ethics of today, the second film presents a noticeably softened version of Miranda, a change that drew criticism from many fans. The once untouchable editor is shown struggling to hang up her own coat and bag, tasks she previously left for others to do by throwing them at their desks, and even omitting words to comply with the guidelines of Human Resources.
Referring to Miranda’s snarky comments about what she is allowed and not allowed to say, Azeefa draws parallels to the senior professionals in today’s workplaces. “We see disregard for workplace ethics, especially from old people who tend to be snarky about Internal Complaints Committee and HR rules. So that part of the film was very realistic.” While the argument was that it softened the mighty Miranda, Chakri says it is what she personally appreciates. “It suggests that voices of the workers are being heard and that workplaces are slowly moving towards being more humane, respectful, and responsive. So while it may make her less dramatic as a character, it makes for a more ‘need of the hour character arc’ to the kind of work culture we deserve,” she concludes.