The sequel to The Devil Wears Prada has torn through global box offices with the precision of Miranda Priestly’s morning coffee order, grossing 8.2 million euros in its first three days in Italy alone and accumulating $114.6 million worldwide within a week of release. Viewed from Rome, the numbers confirm that the appetite for fashion-world nostalgia remains voracious; from Tokyo, analysts point to Anne Hathaway’s evolution from princess archetype to Oscar-winning actor as a key driver of the film’s cross-generational appeal. Yet in Moscow, critics note that the sequel is “beautiful and completely meaningless” — a judgment that, they concede, is entirely in keeping with the original’s DNA.

The film’s return to the catwalk coincides with a broader cultural reckoning around the real woman who inspired its central character. Anna Wintour, the Vogue global content director, has long treated Lauren Weisberger’s roman à clef and its film adaptation with icy indifference, but German commentators observe that she has turned the notoriety into an unmistakeable personal brand, never once justifying herself. The strategy appears to be fraying at the edges, however. An Italian report claims that Meghan Markle’s friendship with Wintour has fractured over a 2019 British Vogue collaboration and unpaid debts, while in New York, protests are building ahead of this year’s Met Gala. The event’s lead sponsors, Amazon founder Jeff Bezos and his wife Lauren Sanchez, have drawn boycott calls over reports of inadequate bathroom breaks for drivers — a contradiction of glamour and labour that the film itself skims but never fully confronts.

Across the Atlantic, the sequel’s narrative arc — in which a print magazine grapples with digital disruption and budget cuts — resonates with an industry in flux. The film’s costume designer, Molly Rogers, has emphasised that clothing in The Devil Wears Prada 2 still functions as a language of power and status, dressing characters from strict business to playful fantasy. Meanwhile, the original film’s influence permeates real-life fashion editors: Kate Reardon, a former Vogue assistant, has described her career as moving from “being Andy to becoming Miranda,” a trajectory the sequel literalises. In Australia, the same week saw acclaimed revivals of The Sapphires and The Glass Menagerie, underscoring a broader audience hunger for stories that balance entertainment with emotional heft — a balance the sequel, for all its glitter, only intermittently achieves.

Looking ahead, the real test may be whether Wintour’s carefully constructed personal mythology can survive both the sequel’s commercial success and the mounting scrutiny around the Met Gala. The film closes with a knowing nod to the cyclical nature of fashion and media; reality, as ever, is less tidy. The Devil Wears Prada 2 has proven that nostalgia sells, but the industry it portrays is still searching for its next act.