Via McSweeney’s
To Whom It May Concern:
You know who I am. I’m Miranda Priestly, Editor-In-Chief of RUNWAY, the most popular and influential print magazine in the world, in this, the current year of 2006. Or maybe you know me by my other names: “The Devil in Prada,” “Dragon Lady,” “The Cerulean Bitch,” or “Anna Wintour.” That last one, of course, is hilariously untrue, because I frequently mention my dear friend Anna as often as is legally necessary.
But however you may know me, I am preceded by my reputation. I am the God of the fashion world and my opinion is the only one that matters to any designer. I can destroy careers with a purse of my lips. It takes every ounce of my focus and every second of my day to stay at the top, and if I don’t demand the same of those around me, my enemies will strike, and my world will crumble.
This is why, today, I am inexplicably putting out the call for an assistant who is terrible.
The official title is Junior Personal Assistant to the Editor-In-Chief, a job that millions of girls would kill for. These ideal girls would all have devoted their entire lives to fashion—looking it, living it, knowing it inside and out from the origins of whalebone corsetry to the bleeding edge of Harajuku Streetwear. But these girls need not apply. What I am looking for is a recent college graduate with zero experience, ideally who majored in a tangentially related field, say, journalism, who wanders in off the street and immediately craps on everything I stand for. To my face.
This is what I require.
Read the whole piece here.
