Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont
were to be no colons in the time, only periods. Times must be rounded up or down to the nearest quarter-hour. Call-back phone numbers always got their own lines to make them easier to distinguish. A time listed indicated that someone had called in. The word ‘note’ was something that Emily or I had to tell her (since addressing her without being first addressed was out of the question, all relevant info went on the Bulletin). ‘Reminder’ was something Miranda had most likely left on one of our voice mails sometime between one and five A.M. the previous night, knowing that once it was recorded for us, it was as good as done. We were to refer to ourselves in the third person – if it was absolutely crucial for us to refer to ourselves at all.
She often asked us to find out exactly when and at what number a particular person would be available to speak. In this case it was a tossup whether the fruits of our investigation would go under ‘note’ or ‘reminder.’ I remember once thinking that the Bulletin read like a who’s who in the Prada crowd, but the names of the superbigmoney, the superhighfashion, and the generally superimpressive had ceased to register as ‘special’ on my desensitized brain. In my new Runway reality, the White House social secretary held little more interest than the vet who needed to speak to her about the cat’s vaccinations (fat chance of him getting a call back!).
Thursday, April 8
| 7.30: | Simone called from the Paris office. She figured out dates with Mr Testino for the Rio shoot and also confirmed with Gisele’s agent, but she still needs to discuss the fashion with you. Please call her.011.33.1.55.91.30.65 |
| 8.15: | Mr Tomlinson called. He is on cell. Please call him. |
| Note: | Andrea spoke with Bruce. He said that the large mirror in your foyer has a piece of decorative plaster missing from the upper left-hand corner. He located an identical mirror at an antique shop in Bordeaux. Would you like him to order it? |
| 8.30: | Jonathan Cole called. He is leaving for Melbourne on Saturday and would like to clarify the assignment before he leaves. Please call him.555.7700 |
| Reminder: | To call Karl Lagerfeld about the Model of the Year party. He will be reachable at his home in Biarritz this evening from 8.00-8.30 P.M. his time.011.33.1.55.22.06.78: home 011.33.1.55.22.58.29: home studio 011.33.1.55.22.92.64: driver 011.33.1.55.66.76.33: assistant’s number in Paris, in case you cannot find him |
| 9.00: | Natalie from Glorious Foods called to see whether you’d prefer that the Vacherin be filled with mixed berries praline or warm rhubarb compote. Please call her.555.9887 |
| 9.00: | Ingrid Sischy called to congratulate you on the April issue. Says the cover is “spectacular, as always” and wants to know who styled the front-of-book beauty shoot. Please call her.555.6246: office 555.8833: home |
| Note: | Miho Kosudo called to apologize for being unable to deliver Damien Hirst’s flower arrangement. They said to be sure to tell you that they waited outside his building for four hours, but since he doesn’t have a doorman, they had to leave. They will try again tomorrow. |
| 9.15: | Mr. Samuels called. He will be unreachable until after lunch, but wants to remind you of parent-teacher conferences tonight at Horace Mann. He would like to discuss Caroline’s history project with you beforehand. Please call him after 2.00 P.M. but before 4.00 P.M.555.5932 |
| 9.15: | Mr. Tomlinson called again. He asked Andrea to make reservations for dinner tonight after parent-teacher conferences. Please call him. He is on cell. |
| Note: | Andrea made reservations for you and Mr Tomlinson tonight at 8.00 P.M. at La Caravelle. Rita Jammet said she is looking forward to seeing you again, and she’s delighted you chose her restaurant. |
| 9.30: | Donatella Versace called. She said everything’s confirmed for your visit. Will you be needing any staff besides a driver, a chef, a trainer, a hair and makeup person, a personal assistant, three maids, and a yacht captain? If so, please let her know before she leaves for Milan. She will also provide cell phones, but won’t be able to join you as she’ll be preparing for the shows.011.3901.55.27.55.61 |
| 9.45: | Judith Mason called. Please call her back.555.6834 |
I crumpled the sheet and tossed it in the basket under my desk, where it immediately soaked up the leftover grease from Miranda’s third morning breakfast that I’d already thrown out. So far, a relatively normal day as far as the Bulletin was concerned. I was just about to click ‘inbox’ on my Hotmail account to see if anyone had e-mailed yet when she cruised into the office. Damn that Sophy! She’d forgotten the warning call again.
‘I expect the Bulletin is updated,’ she said icily without making eye contact or otherwise acknowledging our presence.
‘It is, Miranda,’ I replied, holding it up to her so she needn’t so much as reach for it. Three words and counting, I thought to myself, predicting – and praying – it wouldn’t be more than a seventy-five-word day on my part. She removed her waist-length mink, so plush I had to restrain myself from burying my face into it right there, and tossed it onto my desk. As I went to hang that magnificent dead animal in the closet, trying to rub it discreetly against my cheek, I felt a quick shock of cold and wet: there were tiny bits of still-frozen sleet stuck to the fur. How fabulously apropos.
Pulling the lid from a lukewarm latte, I carefully arranged today’s greasy pile of bacon, sausage, and cheese-filled pastry on a filthy plate. I tiptoed into her office and carefully placed everything unobtrusively on a corner of her desk. She was concentrating on writing a note on her ecru Dempsey and Carroll stationery and spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear.
‘Ahn-dre-ah, I need to discuss the engagement party with you. Get a notebook.’
I nodded, simultaneously realizing that nodding doesn’t count as a word. This engagement party had already become the bane of my existence and it was still more than a month away, but since Miranda was leaving for the European shows soon and would be gone for two weeks, planning this party had occupied the vast majority of both our recent workdays. I returned to her office with a pad and pen, preparing myself to not understand a single word she’d say. I considered sitting for just a moment since it’d make taking dictation much more comfortable, but wisely resisted.
She sighed as though this were so taxing she wasn’t sure if she’d make it and tugged on the white Hermès scarf that she’d woven into a braceletlike thing around her wrist. ‘Find Natalie at Glorious Foods and tell her that I prefer the rhubarb compote. Do not let her convince you that she needs to speak with me directly, because she does not. Also talk to Miho and make sure they understand my orders for the flowers. Get Robert Isabell on the phone for me sometime before lunch to go over tablecloths, place cards, and serving trays. Also that girl from the Whitney to see when I can go over to make sure everything is set up properly, and tell her to fax over the table configurations so I may do seating charts. That’s all for now.’
She had rattled off that list without a single pause in her note writing, and when she finished speaking she handed me her newly crafted note to mail. I finished scribbling on my pad, hoping I’d understood everything correctly, which, considering the accent and the rapid-fire cadence, wasn’t always simple.
‘OK,’ I muttered and turned to go, bringing up my Total Miranda Words to four. Maybe I won’t break fifty, I thought. I could feel her eyes examining the size of my butt as I walked back to my desk and briefly considered whipping around to walk backward like a religious Jew would do when leaving the Wailing Wall. Instead, I tried to glide toward the hidden safety of my desk while picturing thousands and thousands of Hasidim in Prada black, walking backward circles around Miranda Priestly.