they had laughed at me between the rounds of the interview。
After the requisite look…over； Knockout Girl led me to Cheryl
Kerston’s office；Runway ’s executive editor and all…around lovable
lunatic。 She； too； talked at me for what seemed like hours； but this
time I actually listened。 I listened because she seemed to love her
job； speaking excitedly about the “words” aspect of the magazine；
the wonderful copy she reads and writers she manages and editors she
oversees。
“I have absolutely nothing to do with the fashion side of this
place；” she declared proudly； “so it’s best to save those questions
for someone else。”
When I told her that it was really her job that sounded appealing；
that I had no particular interest or background in fashion； her
smile broadened to a genuine grin。 “Well； in that case； Andrea； you
might be just what we need around here。 I think it’s time for you to
meet Miranda。 And if I may offer a piece of advice？ Look her
straight in the eye and sell yourself。 Sell yourself hard and she’ll
respect it。”
As if on cue； Knockout Girl swept in to escort me to Miranda’s
office。 It was only a thirty…second walk； but I could sense that all
eyes were on me。 They peered at me from behind the frosted glass of
the editor’s office and from the open space of the assistants’
cubicles。 A beauty at the copier turned to check me out； and so did
an absolutely magnificent man； although he was obviously gay and
intent on examining only my outfit。 Just as I was about to walk
through the doorway that would lead me to the assistants’ suite
outside of Miranda’s office； Emily grabbed my briefcase and tossed
it under her desk。 It took only a moment for me to realize that the
message wasCarry that； lose all credibility。 And then I was standing
in her office； a wide…open space of huge windows and streaming
bright light。 No other details about the space made an impression
that day； I couldn’t take my eyes off of her。
Since I’d never seen so much as a picture of Miranda Priestly； I was
shocked to see howskinny she was。 The hand she held out was
small…boned； feminine； soft。 She had to turn her head upward to look
me in the eye； although she did not stand to greet me。 Her expertly
dyed blond hair was pulled back in a chic knot； deliberately loose
enough to look casual but still supremely neat； and while she did
not smile； she did not appear particularly intimidating。 She seemed
rather gentle and somewhat shrunken behind her ominous black desk；
and although she did not invite me to sit； I felt fortable enough
to claim one of the unfortable black chairs that faced her。 And
it was then I noticed： she was watching me intently； mentally noting
my attempts at grace and propriety with what seemed like amusement。
Condescending and awkward； yes； but not； I decided； particularly
mean…spirited。 She spoke first。
“What brings you toRunway； Ahn…dre…ah？” she asked in her upper…crust
British accent； never taking her eyes away from mine。
“Well； I interviewed with Sharon； and she told me that you’re
looking for an assistant；” I started； my voice a little shaky。 When
she nodded； my confidence increased slightly。 “And now； after
meeting with Emily； Allison； and Cheryl； I feel like I have a clear
understanding of the kind of person you’re looking for； and I’m
confident I’d be perfect for the job；” I said； remembering Cheryl’s
words。 She looked amused for a moment but seemed unfazed。
It was at this point that I began to want the job most desperately；
in the way people yearn for things they consider unattainable。 It
might not be akin to getting into law school or having an essay
published in a campus journal； but it was； in my starved…for…success
mind； a real challenge—a challenge because I was an imposter； and
not a very good one at that。 I had known the minute I stepped on
theRunway floor that I didn’t belong。 My clothes and hair were wrong
for sure； but more glaringly out of place was my attitude。 I didn’t
know anything about fashion and I didn’tcare 。 At all。 And
therefore； I had to have it。 Besides； a million girls would die for
this job。
I continued to answer her questions about myself with a
forthrightness and confidence that surprised me。 There wasn’t time
to be intimidated。 After all； she seemed pleasant enough and I；
amazingly； knew nothing to the contrary。 We stumbled a bit when she
inquired about any foreign languages I spoke。 When I told her I knew
Hebrew； she paused； pushed her palms flat on her desk and said
icily； “Hebrew？ I was hoping for French； or at least something
moreuseful 。” I almost apologized； but stopped myself。
“Unfortunately； I don’t speak a word of French； but I’m confident it
won’t be a problem。” She clasped her hands back together。
“It says here that you studied at Brown？”
“Yes； I； uh； I was an English major； concentrating on creative
writing。 writing has always been a passion。”So cheesy！ I reprimanded
myself。Did I really have to use the word “passion”？
“So； does your affinity for writing mean that you’re not
particularly interested in fashion？” She took a sip of sparkling
liquid from a glass and set it down quietly。 One quick glance at the
glass showed that she was the kind of woman who could drink without
leaving one of those disgusting lipstick marks。 She would always
have perfectly lined and filled…in lips regardless of the hour。
“Oh no； of course not。 I adore fashion；” I lied rather smoothly。
“I’m looking forward to learning even more about it； since I think
it would be wonderful to write about fashion one day。” Where the
hell had I e up with that one？ This was being an out…of…body
experience。
Things progressed with the same relative ease until she asked her
final question： Which magazines did I read regularly？ I leaned
forward eagerly and began to speak： “Well； I only subscribe toThe
New Yorker andNewsweek； but I regularly readThe Buzz 。
SometimesTime； but it’s dry； andU。S。 News is way too conservative。
Of course； as a guilty pleasure； I’ll skimChic； and since I just
returned from traveling； I read all of the travel magazines and 。 。
。”
“And do you readRunway； Ahn…dre…ah？” she interrupted； leaning over
the desk and peering at me even more intently than before。
It had e so quickly； so unexpectedly； that for the first time
that day I was caught off…guard。 I didn’t lie； and I didn’t
elaborate or even attempt to explain。
“No。”
After perhaps ten seconds of stony silence； she beckoned for Emily
to escort me out。 I knew I had the job。
3
“It sure doesn’t sound like you have the job；” Alex； my boyfriend；
said softly； playing with my hair as I rested my throbbing head in
his lap after the grueling day。 I’d gone straight from the interview
to his apartment in Brooklyn； not wanting to sleep on Lily’s couch
for another night and needing to tell him about everything that had
just happened。 I’d thought about staying there all the time； but I
didn’t want Alex to feel suffocated。 “I don’t even know why you’d
want it。” After a moment or two； he reconsidered。 “Actually； it does
sound like a pretty phenomenal opportunity。 I mean； if this girl
Allison started out as Miranda’s assistant and is now an editor at
the magazine； well； that’d be good enough for me。 Just go for it。”
He was trying so hard to sound really excited for me。 We’d been
dating since our junior year at Brown； and I knew every inflection
of his voice； every look； every signal。 He’d just started a few
weeks earlier at PS 277 in the Bronx and was so worn down he could
barely speak。 Even though his kids were only nine years old； he’d
been disappointed to see how jaded and cynical they already were。 He
was disgusted that they all spoke freely about blow jobs； knew ten
different slang words for pot； and loved to brag about the stuff
they stole or whose cousin was currently residing in a tougher jail。
“Prison connoisseurs；” Alex had taken to calling them。 “They could
write a book on the subtle advantages of Sing Sing over Rikers； but
they can’t read a word of the English language。” He was trying to
figure out how he could make a difference。
I slid my hand under his T…shirt and started to scratch his back。
Poor thing looked so miserable that I felt guilty bothering him with
the details of the interview； but I just had to talk about it with
someone。 “I know。 I understand that there wouldn’t be anything
editorial about the job whatsoever； but I’m sure I’ll be able to do
some writing after a few months；” I said。 “You don’t think it’s
pletely selling out to work at afashion magazine； do you？”
He squeezed my arm and lay down next to me。 “Baby； you’re a
brilliant； wonderful writer； and I know you’ll be fantastic
anywhere。 And of course it’s not selling out。 It’s paying your dues。
You’re saying that if you put in a year atRunway you’ll save
yourself three more years of bullshit assistant work somewhere
else？”
I nodded。 “That’s what Emily and Allison said； that it was an
automatic quid pro quo。 Work a year for Miranda and don’t get fired；
and she’ll make a call and get you a job anywhere you want。”
“Then how could you not？ Seriously； Andy； you’ll work your year and
you’ll get a job atThe New Yorker 。 It’s what you’ve always wanted！
And it sure sounds like you’ll get there a whole lot faster doing
this than anything else。”
“You’re right； you’re totally right。”
“And besides； it would guarantee that you’re moving to New York；
which； I have to say； is very appealing to me right now。” He kissed
me； one of those long； lazy kisses it seemed we had personally
invented。 “But stop worrying so much。 Like you said yourself； you’re
still not sure you have the job。 Let’s wait and see。”
We cooked a simple dinner and fell asleep watching Letterman。 I was
dreaming about obnoxious little nine…year…olds having sex on the
playground while they swigged forties of Olde English and screamed
at my sweet； loving boyfriend when the phone rang。
Alex picked it up and pressed it to his ear but didn’t bother to
open his eyes or say hello。 He quickly dropped it next to me。 I
wasn’t sure I could muster the energy to pick it up。
“Hello？” I mumbled； glancing at the clock and seeing that it was
7：15A 。M。 Who the hell would call at such an hour？
“It’s me；” barked a very angry…sounding Lily。
“H