Pop Vultura Category
What’s my skeleton in the closet? Pop culture. I’m facinated by pop culture. I like to pretend it’s a side-effect of my sociology degree: pop culture is an excellent barometer of where American culture is, since we seem to live on a steady diet of whatever entertainment crap we’re fed. The crap that’s popular tells you a lot about the people injesting it. But part of me thinks I just like it.
Did you know that I still write my 8 Great column for Movies.com? I do! Here’s the latest: 8 Great Twist Endings.
This weekend I dragged my poor friend Dawn to see The Devil Wears Prada, which was sort of cruel of me. Dawn is a nurse who sees maybe two movies a year and is totally uninterested in media, pop culture, publishing gossip, etc. But I had to go see this film, and Dawn was my semi-willing accomplice, so off we went.
Here is why I had to see this movie:
1. Meryl Streep doing comedy is awesome and amazing.
2. I like to think about clothing and costuming and fashion. Granted, I like to think about West Coast freak/street fashion, and most New York couture makes me want to choke someone with a $350 scarf, but I still appreciate a pretty outfit. Watching this movie made me realize that part of what I appreciate about fashion is value and customization. If I had $1800 to spend on a dress, I certainly wouldn’t spend it on a Gucci gown that all the other rich girls in town were buying. I would have that shit custom designed and tailored for me.
3. This flick perfectly illustrates why I didn’t stay in New York. The hierarchical editorial structure where it’s pretty much expected that you’re going to be a coffee-fetcher for two years? The rent you can’t afford? The glamorous jobs that a million people would kill for that actually involve insulting grunt work while you wait to climb the totem pole? That’s not a movie, people. That’s the reality of New York publishing. I am so so glad I have friends who have greater fortitude than I do for such things … it’s an amazing world to be a part of, but one I lacked the strength to deal with full time. The Devil Wears Prada and its wink-wink depiction of the Condé Nast cafeteria totally affirmed that I made the right decision. I am meant to be on the outside of the machine feeding it words and my soul to sell — not the lubrication that keeps the wheels turning. Thank you formulaic chick flick for reminding me of this.
That said, the movie itself isn’t all that great. It’s a standard cautionary tale (naive girl goes in, gets a makeover, is successful/corrupted, alienates friends, realizes she’s become an asshole, makes changes), but if you’re a media-whore Meryl Streep fashionista (in other words, just like me!) you might enjoy it.
Did you know that I still write my 8 Great column for Movies.com? I do! Here’s the latest: 8 Great Twist Endings.
This weekend I dragged my poor friend Dawn to see The Devil Wears Prada, which was sort of cruel of me. Dawn is a nurse who sees maybe two movies a year and is totally uninterested in media, pop culture, publishing gossip, etc. But I had to go see this film, and Dawn was my semi-willing accomplice, so off we went.
Here is why I had to see this movie:
1. Meryl Streep doing comedy is awesome and amazing.
2. I like to think about clothing and costuming and fashion. Granted, I like to think about West Coast freak/street fashion, and most New York couture makes me want to choke someone with a $350 scarf, but I still appreciate a pretty outfit. Watching this movie made me realize that part of what I appreciate about fashion is value and customization. If I had $1800 to spend on a dress, I certainly wouldn’t spend it on a Gucci gown that all the other rich girls in town were buying. I would have that shit custom designed and tailored for me.
3. This flick perfectly illustrates why I didn’t stay in New York. The hierarchical editorial structure where it’s pretty much expected that you’re going to be a coffee-fetcher for two years? The rent you can’t afford? The glamorous jobs that a million people would kill for that actually involve insulting grunt work while you wait to climb the totem pole? That’s not a movie, people. That’s the reality of New York publishing. I am so so glad I have friends who have greater fortitude than I do for such things … it’s an amazing world to be a part of, but one I lacked the strength to deal with full time. The Devil Wears Prada and its wink-wink depiction of the Condé Nast cafeteria totally affirmed that I made the right decision. I am meant to be on the outside of the machine feeding it words and my soul to sell — not the lubrication that keeps the wheels turning. Thank you formulaic chick flick for reminding me of this.
That said, the movie itself isn’t all that great. It’s a standard cautionary tale (naive girl goes in, gets a makeover, is successful/corrupted, alienates friends, realizes she’s become an asshole, makes changes), but if you’re a media-whore Meryl Streep fashionista (in other words, just like me!) you might enjoy it.
Hey there. I'm Ariel Meadow Stallings, a native Seattleite who's written my way up and down the Left Coast. Electrolicious is where I post daily randomata, but I also write for a living. My first book, Offbeat Bride, was published last year.
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