2026 marks the twentieth anniversary of The Devil Wears Prada. Twenty years. I honestly can't believe we've reached this milestone already.
Written by Mariane Tremblay
It's June 30th, which means it's basically a national holiday for the girls, the gays, and anyone who's ever quoted Miranda Priestly. This year, however, the celebration feels even bigger, as 2026 marks the twentieth anniversary of The Devil Wears Prada. Twenty years. I honestly can't believe we've reached this milestone already.
Like many people my age, I grew up watching The Devil Wears Prada. I remember when I was six, my grandmother recorded the movie onto a VHS tape because she thought it looked good after reading the synopsis on the television. The next day, she put it on, and I fell in love almost instantly. From the opening scene to Anne Hathaway walking the streets to Madonna’s Vogue to Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly, I was completely obsessed. I was fascinated by fashion, intrigued by Streep, and dreaming of becoming Andy — for years, I was one of the thousands of girls who would have killed for that job. And I watched it so much, I broke my VHS tape. I knew every line, both in French and later in English, reciting them at the same time as the characters — and to this day, I still believe that one of my biggest talents is to recite the Cerulean monologue word by word.
When the movie was initially released, it was categorized as a so-called "chick flick," but over the years, it became something even more popular and important. The Devil Wears Prada isn't simply a movie about fashion — it may be the movie's backdrop, but it's never its true subject. Patricia Field's costume design doesn't simply showcase designer clothes; it ultimately tells a story. Andy's story. Every outfit marks another step in her transformation, reflecting her growing confidence, her ambition, and, eventually, the subtle loss of the person she once was. Twenty years later, the wardrobe remains just as iconic, because every look serves the story (and that iconic Vogue montage).
But to me, The Devil Wears Prada is about ambition, sacrifice, identity, and what success demands of women in positions of power. Whether it's following a small-town girl chasing her dreams in New York or exploring the realities of being a woman at the top of a male-dominated industry, it resonates across generations. And that's precisely why it has become a cult classic and continues to have such a profound impact on pop culture and the LGBTQIA+ community. And the fact that this movie is still relevant in 2026 just proves how timeless it is.
Andrea "Andy" Sachs is the embodiment of ambition. Coming from Cincinnati, Ohio, she moved to New York to become a journalist after graduating from Northwestern University. And just like me, there are lots of small-town girls who watched this movie thinking, "I can do that too." When I graduated from college, I did the same thing: I moved to the big city and found a job in television production because it had always been my dream. Starting from the bottom, as an assistant to a boss who, funnily enough, would always call me Emily because of the girl who used to have the job before me (and I'm not even kidding). Just like Miranda, my boss had an intimidating, commanding presence. For two years, I watched her in awe. The way she carved out her place in the television industry, eventually becoming a producer and running her own production company, was everything to me. And I always thought to myself, "I want to be just like her when I grow up." She reminded me of Miranda in many ways. She could be stone-cold at times, but she handled everything like no one else.
Called the "Dragon Lady" by the press, Miranda Priestly has always been one of the most fascinating female characters in cinema. While she was often framed as the villain, I have never really seen her that way. I didn’t fully misjudge her so much as I didn’t yet understand her complexity. Even as a child, I could recognise that some of her choices and actions were questionable, but what I didn’t grasp was the subtlety behind them — the pressures she was operating under, the expectations placed on her, and what it takes to survive and excel in an industry largely shaped by men. She was demanding, ruthless, and uncompromising, yes, but she is also a woman who has had to be all of those things to remain at the top. The standards she is held to are different, and that is part of what makes her so compelling. Growing up didn’t change how I saw her so much as it refined it. Twenty years later, she remains one of the most fascinating female characters ever written.
Meryl Streep delivers one of the best performances of her career in this movie — which even earned her an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress. And as silly as it may sound, I genuinely forget she's portraying Miranda about one time out of every three times because she disappears so completely into the role, which, to me, feels like one of the roles furthest removed from her own personality. What makes her performance so compelling is her commanding presence, even in the quietest moments. She never needs to raise her voice to command everyone's attention. It's one of the greatest examples of restraint in modern acting. Miranda's authority comes from silence, glances, or the smallest changes in expression. Few actors could make a whispered line feel more intimidating than someone else shouting. But as they say, Meryl Streep could play Batman and still be the right choice.
But the performances are outstanding across the board, with Emily Blunt making her American film debut as a British "mean girl" (who turns out to be more sympathetic than she first appears) and delivering some of the film’s best lines, alongside Anne Hathaway, who would soon become one of the defining movie stars of the 2000s, and Stanley Tucci, who portrays Nigel, Miranda’s loyal art director at Runway.
To me, the film is almost flawless, and I know I will keep returning to it over the next twenty years. The only thing that has not aged as well is the "cult of thinness," which, while not unique to The Devil Wears Prada, was reflective of broader issues within both the fashion and film industries. There are moments and lines that feel triggering in hindsight, and I know that watching the film as a child left an imprint on how I perceived weight and beauty. But that is less a flaw of the film itself than a reflection of a society that has long upheld the idea that "the thinner, the better."
Twenty years later, the VHS tape might be long gone, but I still remember sitting in front of the screen, completely convinced I understood everything I was watching. The truth is, I didn’t. But I think I understand it a little better now, and even more with every rewatch.
The Devil Wears Prada is now back in theatres in a double feature with The Devil Wears Prada 2 across the U.S. and Canada, and is also streaming on Disney+.
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