The prosecution against The Devil Wears Prada

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we the prosecution understand that The Devil Wears Prada is just a film. It’s not capable of eradicating poverty or bringing about world peace but it does aspire to be jolly good entertainment for its 109 minute running time, with fashion playing a prime role in this. And so when one of its stars, Stanley Tucci, who plays the role of Nigel, the fashion fairy godmother to Anne Hathaway’s Andy Sachs, says that “fashion IS the film,” it creates a weight of expectation for the clothes to cast a cinematic spell. Some films have special effects or exotic locations to ramp up excitement among its core audience, so a fashion film must deliver in the style stakes. They must be on-trend, glamorous and above all stay true to the plot and the characters. Sadly, The Devil Wears Prada might dazzle and shine, but all that glitters is not always gold…

The fashion decisions made by the movie’s costume designer, Patricia Field, were always going to be unconventional. Having established her reputation as a ‘fashion maverick’ during her time on Sex and the City, using anything from tutus to ghetto gold, from plastic hooker heels to coloured bras underneath white tops, Field’s experience and taste was never going to accurately reflect the chic, sophisticated wardrobes of fashion’s elite. Perhaps responsibility lies more with the director, David Frankel, who, having enjoyed working with Field previously for 15 years, felt relieved of all clothing conundrums when Field came onboard. But this isn’t a time for finger-pointing, better let’s explore where Field’s fashion failures lay.

Counsel would like to draw your attention to the scant number of fashion industry folk in the film. Sure, people have hectic schedules, can’t drop everything at a moment’s notice, blah, blah, blah – but the shoot took in both Paris and New York – two bastions of fashion glory – so where was everyone? Writing in The New York Times, Ginia Bellafonte theorised that The Devil Wears Prada doesn’t embrace fashion; rather it disdains it with its morality tale that drab equals integrity, in contrast to glamour signalling superficiality. This was evidently a concern for the film’s producer, Wendy Finerman, who admitted that some top names “were a little scared of the commentary we were making about fashion.” After all, if you embodied the fashion world, why would you risk endorsing a film that could be understood to be undermining, mocking and reviling it?

Field confirms that not all designers were willing to donate clothes to the film, but refuses to name names. “They felt uncomfortable,” she explained. “It was a sensitive issue, but it didn’t matter. I know all these designers and I wasn’t going to pressure them. There were so many designers out there who wanted to be a part of the film, it was fine.”

Incriminating evidence I’m sure you’ll agree, but most tellingly of all, was the frosty reception earned by the clothes themselves. They are “a caricature of what people who don’t work in fashion think fashion people look like,” said Anne Slowey, the fashion news director of Elle, who damningly added that “the clothes are a little too head-to-toe perfect.” In The Los Angeles Times, Booth Moore echoed this criticism, adding: “The Devil Wears Prada is a film about insiders that has been costumed for outsiders. Costume designer Patricia Field dumbed down the entire fashion language to appeal to the everywoman. What’s left is a fine fashion fantasy with little to do with reality.”

This absence of authenticity is a subject revisited by Hal Rubenstein, the fashion director of InStyle magazine, who defies any fashionista to achieve the high maintenance look of the characters. “I find it astounding that all these people in the movie have so much time to change,” he muses. “By and large, if you go from work to an event in the evening, you change your shoes, your jewellery and your bag, the same way that the magazine editors tell their readers to do. For the most part women in fashion fiercely edit what they wear.”

These ridiculously perfect ensembles might be designer brands, but critics have questioned whether they are the right ones. David Wolfe, a New York fashion consultant asked on viewing the movie: “Where is the chic?”, while in her article, “The duds of The Devil Wears Prada”, fashion journalist Ruth La Ferla writes that style “is not summed up by a parade of Gucci, Pucci, Dolce & Gabbana and Prada… but by breezier labels like Chloé, Marc Jacobs and Marni, which are coveted by young trendsetters but are in scant evidence on screen.”

Field clearly struggles to pinpoint convincing fashion identities for the characters, a challenge all the greater when considering Andy’s shift from bland girl-next-door to Chanel clothes horse. Andy sports a look that veers dangerously between fashion victim and trailer trash (“No fashion magazine assistant or editor would don a toe ring. Ever,” rants Booth Moore), as Miranda goes too far the other way either looking mumsy with her silver hair or dated and garish with 80s-esque animal print. Hal Rubenstein calls this style schizophrenia “a weird desire for abundance for the sake of abundance.”

And so what have we learned? That Patricia Field’s quirky style and bohemian CV never suited the film’s all-important aesthetic. That many people who live and breathe fashion purposefully steered well clear. That the clothes are over-the-top, inconsistent and unlikely and the the 24/7 style is exhausting, polished and expensive rather than flattering, cutting-edge or credible. Tiffany Dubin, a former curator of vintage fashion for Sotheby’s says it best: “The people in it are trying a little too hard.”

The prosecution rests.