Written by: Tena Razumović Žmara, PR Account Senior, not ChatGPT
How did the film The Devil Wears Prada, which was supposed to mock the fashion elite, become its most powerful marketing tool, and why was Miuccia Prada the only one who saw a future in which film dictates trends?
Exactly two decades ago, the fashion world found itself facing a mirror it did not like at all. When Lauren Weisberger’s novel The Devil Wears Prada was adapted for the screen in 2006, a quiet but icy war took hold in the hallways of Condé Nast in New York and in the offices of prestigious European fashion houses. Today, as we eagerly await the premiere of the sequel to the film of the same name, and as Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep once again dominate headlines, the story of this film is no longer just a story about “that film about fashion.” It is a chronicle of how one brand, despite the industry’s initial fear, became a symbol of power that transcends mere fabric, and how pop culture forced the gods of fashion to capitulate.
History teaches us that the fashion industry, no matter how progressive it is in aesthetics, suffers from a deep fear of authority. When it became known that Meryl Streep would play Miranda Priestly, a character almost surgically modeled after Anna Wintour (although Meryl Streep, in promoting the sequel, standing shoulder to shoulder with Anna Wintour, “revealed” that she based the character on her bosses from the film industry), an “omertà,” a vow of silence, took hold in the industry.
Most top brands, fearing the wrath of the real editor of Vogue, refused to lend clothing for the shoot. It was a time when gatekeepers held the keys to every designer’s fate. One bad review or absence from the Met Gala list meant commercial suicide. The film crew found themselves in an absurd situation; they were making a film about the most powerful people in fashion, yet the fashion elite treated them as unwanted outsiders.
And yet, this is where the paradox that would redefine the Prada brand emerged. While many refused to collaborate, the film placed that very name in its title. Miuccia Prada, a woman always more inclined toward intellectualism than mere commercialism, understood something her peers did not: the film would not destroy the glamour of fashion, it would democratize it in a way no runway show ever could.
Why Prada? In Miranda Priestly’s world, Prada was not just an aesthetic choice, it was armor, a shield. The film gave the brand a new dimension; Prada became a verb, an adjective for cold, unwavering competence. While other brands were consumed by fear of retaliation, Prada, through the character of Miranda, became synonymous with a woman who does not ask for attention, but assumes it.
The impact on the brand was seismic. The film achieved what marketing can never fully accomplish; it connected luxury goods with a deep narrative of ambition. That famous monologue about “cerulean blue,” which has since become required material in fashion studies and one of the most frequently quoted lines from the film, along with, of course, the “Everybody wants to be us.” scene in the car, explained the mechanics of the industry to the masses. It showed that no one is exempt from the fashion cycle, and Prada sat at the top.
Today, twenty years later, we see a complete transformation. At the premieres of the sequel, designers are not only competing to dress the main actresses, they are appearing in the film themselves. Donatella Versace, who in 2006 would likely have thought twice about appearing in a satire of her own industry, now proudly shares the frame with Anne Hathaway.
What The Devil Wears Prada 2 (and its entire accompanying PR) communicates today is a radical shift in the distribution of power. In the first film, Andy Sachs is a victim of the system. She must adapt, transform, and “sell her soul” to survive in a world controlled by a single person.
In the contemporary context, power has shifted from the editor’s desk to the smartphone screen, and also to the film screen. Brands have realized that films like this do not harm them, they create mythology. Today’s audience, made up of millennials and Generation Z, does not see Miranda Priestly as a villain. For them, she is a heroine, a woman who, in the ruthless world of dying print media, tries to maintain standards of excellence.
Ironically, the very film that was meant to parody the fashion industry has become its most powerful marketing tool. It opened the doors to a world that had until then been closed, hermetic, and, truth be told, quite snobbish.
Perhaps the most interesting part of this PR saga is the evolution of Anne Hathaway. At the time of the first film, she was the face representing us, ordinary people who do not know the difference between two shades of turquoise. Today, Anne is a regular guest in the front rows of fashion shows, the face of luxury campaigns, and a fashion icon in her own right. Her active participation in promoting the sequel and her real-life fashion transformation complete the circle. She no longer pretends to be part of the fashion world, she is now an indispensable part of it. Her relationship with brands like Versace or Prada today is symbiotic. This is proof that the film succeeded in rebranding not only the actors, but also the perception of the roles of assistants, editors, and designers.
The Devil Wears Prada taught us that fashion is not about “clothes.” It is about politics, economics, and sociology. The film posed the question of what we are willing to sacrifice for success. And while the first part ended with Andy throwing her phone into a fountain, an act of rebellion against the tyranny of luxury, reality proved us wrong. All of us, in some way, jumped into that fountain for that phone, wanting a piece of that glamorous, ruthless, yet irresistible world.
Prada emerged from it all as the winner because it allowed itself to become the “devil’s uniform.” By embracing that role, the brand defined a sharpness it had not previously possessed. It gained a new layer of character. Perhaps the most pronounced and memorable one yet.
As we watch Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep share the frame once again, it is clear that fashion history has changed. Gatekeepers are dead, long live influencers and film icons. But one thing remains the same; no matter how hard we try to ignore it, fashion always finds us. Even in that “worn-out sweater” you bought on sale, without knowing that its color was approved two years earlier, in a cold office, by a woman who wears Prada.
The power of film lies not only in its ability to provide fantastic escapism, to transport us to other worlds, but in the fact that it forced the industry itself to stop taking itself too seriously and start enjoying its own myth.
