I Would Totally Sell My Soul for Some Jimmy Choos

I saw The Devil Wears Prada over the weekend, and although I really enjoyed it, I had some issues with the message of it. The film is all about how the main character, Andy, is losing her soul by working as second assistant to Editor-in-Chief Miranda Priestly at Runway magazine (Vogue). Perhaps I’m shallow, but I don’t see it so much as losing her soul as gaining some really amazing clothes. When her boyfriend tells her he liked her old clothes better, I wanted to scream, “Are you nuts? How could anyone possibly like those schlubby, misshapen schmatas? She’s wearing sexy black Chanel, you moron!” (And really, are we supposed to believe that the lame, overly hairy boyfriend is any match for the supersexy Simon Baker?) Then her self-righteous friend tells her, “You’re not the same Andy anymore” or something to that effect, and all I can think is, “She gave you a Marc Jacobs purse, and this is how you repay her? Bitch.” Clearly, the feel-good message of this movie was lost on me. I suppose I’m just someone who would happily sell my soul for a free Chanel wardrobe. I did think Meryl Streep was amazing, and she looks fabulous, as does Anne Hathaway (after she ditches the frumpy clothes).