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第54节

时尚女魔头 穿普拉达的恶魔 英文原版-第54节


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  girls a new nanny。 Here’s the number of the agency we work with;” 
  she said; sending it to me in an e…mail。 “They know how 
  discriminating Miranda is—and rightfully so; of course—so they 
  usually give us good people。”

  I looked at her warily and wondered what her life had been before 
  Miranda Priestly。 I got to sleep with my eyes open for a little 
  while longer before the phone rang again。 Blessedly; Emily answered 
  it。

  “Hello; Miranda。 Yes; yes; I can hear you。 No; no problem at all。 
  Yes; I have confirmed hair and makeup for that Thursday。 And yes; 
  Andrea has already begun looking for new nannies。 We’ll have three 
  solid candidates ready for you to interview on your first day back。” 
  She cocked her head to the side and touched her pen to her lips。 
  “Mmm; yes。 Yes; it’s definitely confirmed。 No; it’s not ninety…nine 
  percent; it’s one hundred percent。 Definitely。 Yes; Miranda。 Yes; I 
  confirmed it myself; and I’m quite positive。 They’re looking forward 
  to it。 OK。 Have a nice flight。 Yes; it’s confirmed。 I’ll fax it 
  right now。 OK。 Good…bye。” She hung up the phone and appeared to be 
  shaking。

  “Why doesn’t that woman understand? I told her the hair and makeup 
  were confirmed。 And then I told her again。 Why did I have to tell 
  her fifty more times? And do you know what she said?”

  I shook my head。

  “Do you know what she said? She said that since this has all been 
  such a headache for her; she’d like me to redo the itinerary so that 
  it will reflect that hair and makeup is now confirmed and fax it to 
  the Ritz so she’ll have the correct one when she arrives。 I do 
  everything for that woman—I give her mylife —and this is how she 
  talks to me in return?” She looked ready to cry。 I was thrilled for 
  the rare opportunity to see Emily turn on Miranda; but I knew that 
  aRunway Paranoid Turnaround was imminent; so I had to proceed with 
  caution。 Strike just the right note of sympathy and indifference。

  “It’s not you; Em; I promise。 She knows how hard you work—you’re an 
  amazing assistant to her。 If she didn’t think you did a great job; 
  she’d have gotten rid of you already。 She’s not exactly scared to do 
  it—you know what I mean?”

  Emily had stopped tearing and was approaching the defiant zone 
  where; even though she agreed with me; she’d defend Miranda if I 
  said anything too outrageous。 I’d learned about the Stockholm 
  Syndrome in psych; in which the victims identify with their captors; 
  but I hadn’t really understood how it all played out。 Maybe I’d 
  videotape one of the little sessions here between Emily and me and 
  send it to the prof so next year’s freshmen could actually see it 
  happening firsthand。 All efforts to proceed carefully began to feel 
  superhuman; so I took a deep breath and dove right in。

  “She’s a lunatic; Emily;” I said softly and slowly; willing her to 
  agree with me。 “It’s not you; it’s her。 She’s an empty; shallow; 
  bitter woman who has tons and tons of gorgeous clothes and not much 
  else。”

  Emily’s face tightened noticeably; the skin on her neck and around 
  her cheeks pulling taut; and her hands stopped shaking。 I knew she 
  was going to bulldoze me at any moment; but I couldn’t stop。

  “Have you ever noticed that she has no friends; Emily? Have you? 
  Sure; her phone rings day and night with the world’s coolest people; 
  but they’re not calling to talk about their kids or their jobs or 
  their marriages; are they? They’re calling because they need 
  something from her。 It sure seems awesome looking in; but can you 
  imagine if the only reason anyone ever called you was because they—”

  “Stop it!” she screamed; the tears streaming down her face again。 
  “Just fucking shut up already! You march into this office and think 
  you understand everything。 Little Miss I’m So Sarcastic and So Above 
  All This! Well; you don’t understand anything。 Anything!”

  “Em—”

  “Don’t ‘Em;’ me; Andy。 Let me finish。 I know Miranda is difficult。 I 
  know she sometimes seems crazy。 I know what it’s like to never sleep 
  and always be scared she’s calling you and have none of your friends 
  understand。 I know all that! But if you hate it so much; if you 
  can’t do anything but plain about it and her and everyone else 
  all the time; then why don’t you just leave? Because your attitude 
  is really a problem。 And to say that Miranda is a lunatic; well; I 
  think there are many; many more people out there who think she’s 
  gifted and gorgeous and talented and would think you’re a lunatic 
  for not doing your best to help out someone so amazing。 Because she 
  is amazing; Andy—she really is!”

  I considered this for a moment and decided she had a point。 Miranda 
  was; as far as I could tell; a truly fantastic editor。 Not a single 
  word of copy made it into the magazine without her explicit; 
  hard…to…obtain approval; and she wasn’t afraid to scrap something 
  and start over; regardless of how inconvenient or unhappy it made 
  everyone else。 Although the various fashion editors called in the 
  clothes to shoot; Miranda alone selected the looks she wanted and 
  which models she wanted wearing each one; the sittings editors might 
  be the ones at the actual shoots; but they were simply executing 
  Miranda’s specific and incredibly detailed instructions。 She had the 
  final—and often even the preliminary—say over every single bracelet; 
  bag; shoe; outfit; hair style; story; interview; writer; photo; 
  model; location; and photograph in every issue; and that made her; 
  in my mind; the main reason for the magazine’s stunning success each 
  month。Runway wouldn’t beRunway —hell; it wouldn’t be much of 
  anything at all—without Miranda Priestly。 I knew it and so did 
  everyone else。 What it hadn’t yet done was convince me that any of 
  this gave her a right to treat people the way she did。 Why was the 
  ability to put together a Balmain evening gown and a brooding; leggy 
  Asian girl on a side street in San Sebastian worshiped so much that 
  Miranda wasn’t accountable for her behavior? I still wasn’t building 
  the bridge; but what the hell did I know? Emily obviously got it。

  “Emily; all I’m saying is that you’re a really great assistant to 
  her; that she’s lucky she has someone who works as hard as you do; 
  who’s so mitted to the job。 I just wish you’d realize that it’s 
  not your fault if she’s unhappy with something。 She’s just an 
  unhappy person。 There’s nothing more you could have done。”

  “I know that。 I really do。 But you don’t give her enough credit; 
  Andy。 Think about it。 I mean; really think about it。 She is so 
  incredibly acplished; and she’s had to sacrifice a lot to get 
  there; but couldn’t the same be said of supersuccessful people in 
  every industry? Tell me; how many CEOs or managing partners or movie 
  directors or whatever don’t have to be tough sometimes? It’s part of 
  the job。”

  I could tell we weren’t going to see eye to eye on this one。 It was 
  clear that Emily was deeply invested in Miranda; inRunway; in all of 
  it; but I just couldn’t understand why。 She wasn’t any different 
  from the hundreds of other personal assistants and editorial 
  assistants and assistant editors and associate editors and senior 
  editors and editors in chief of fashion magazines。 But I just didn’t 
  understand why。 From everything I’d seen so far; each one was 
  humiliated; degraded; and generally abused by their direct superior; 
  only to turn around and do it to those under them the second they 
  got promoted。 And all of it so they could say; at the end of the 
  long and exhausting climb; that they’d gotten to sit in the front 
  row at Yves Saint…Laurent’s couture show and had scored a few free 
  Prada bags along the way?

  Time to just agree。 “I know;” I sighed; surrendering to her 
  insistence。 “I just hope you know that you’re doing her the favor by 
  putting up with her shit; not the other way around。”

  I expected a quick counter…attack; but Emily grinned。 “You know how 
  I just told her like a hundred times that her Thursday hair and 
  makeup were confirmed?”

  I nodded。 She looked positively giddy。

  “I was totally lying。 I didn’t call a single person or confirm 
  anything!” She practically sang the last part。

  “Emily! Are you serious? What are you going to do now? You just 
  swore up and down that you’d personally confirmed it。” For the first 
  time since starting work; I wanted to hug the girl。

  “Andy; be serious。 Do you honestly think that any sane person is 
  going to say no to doing her hair and makeup? It could make his 
  whole career—he’d be crazy to turn her down。 I’m sure the guy was 
 

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