When The Devil Wears Prada was released in 2006, it offered a rose-tinted snapshot of
the glossy allure and cut-throat competition found in the fashion industry. Serving ever-
so-quotable one-liners (Gird your loins!) with a side of stereotypes about women’s
magazines, it also casually threw about the insidious fatphobia rooted in the toxic
beauty standards at the time.
Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) disrupted the well-dressed demeanour at Runway with
her “size 6 ass” and was labelled the “smart fat girl” by her boss, Miranda Priestly (Meryl
Streep). Before she, of course, got bangs, Chanel boots and dropped a dress size in a
classic 2000s makeover to fit in with the image-obsessed elite.
Yet, this body shaming is a reflection of a different time: one were fatsuits were widely
used on-screen, carbs were said to be the sworn enemy (they aren’t) and fad diets
reigned supreme. The sequel, or so it seemed, would be more size inclusive and
progressive.
Anne Hathaway reportedly asked that “skeletal” and “alarmingly thin” models from Milan
Fashion Week weren’t included in the film, as Hathaway added that the scene would be
“much more enjoyable for the audience if we had just a wider range of bodies on
display, because all different shapes are beautiful.”
Promises of body inclusivity were a welcomed change, as the amount of curve models
on the runway was halved from September 2025 to February 2026 at New York Fashion
Week. While Milan only included 5 curve models in 2026.
Refreshed by these rumours, I was buoyant going into the screening at the premiere, as
a plus-size girl who faces near daily fat phobia online, and feels the immense pressure
to shrink after the backslide in body standards in recent years.
Glimpses of curve models can be seen on-screen such as Victoria Secret icon, Ashley
Graham, while one or two new actors demonstrate the body diversity that Hathaway
referred too. But, for the most part, it felt as though they had the opportunity to do so
much more. And that was before body positivity became the butt of a joke again.
During a brainstorm meeting, Miranda says that there have been a lot more “body…
negative”, before she puffs out her cheeks to pretend to be fat, and corrects herself to
“body positive” people as she talks about the models on the catwalk. Andy and Amari
are quick to shake their heads at her, eyes-wide with fear of her callous comment, but
there’s a distinct question of why that comment was allowed to be included at all.
All the discussions around inclusivity on the press tour, only soured the insensitive joke,
and left the well-meaning messages of all bodies being beautiful feeling hollow. As a
plus-size woman, who continues to advocate for body inclusivity, I was watching this sequel for the nostalgic girlhood joy we all crave. Only to be left feeling as though, this
wasn’t something I was allowed to be apart of as I didn’t fit the mould.
If jokes are still made at the expense of body positivity, then how is The Devil Wears
Prada 2 meant to be taken seriously as an attempt to address representation on screen.
Body shaming perpetuates harmful dialogues of exclusivity ingrained in fashion (and
subsequently this resurgence of girlhood nostalgic) that it’s something only one type of
girl can enjoy: a thin one. When all women deserve to take comfort in reliving stories
they loved as a teenager, that should never be limited to being appearance based.
I’m bored of body inclusivity being mocked when plus-size people continue to lose
visibility in adverts, films and TV, with the rise of weight-loss drugs and normalisation of
rapid weight loss. With such a staggering budget, influence and demand from designers
to be involved in the sequel, it’s disappointing that the film didn’t take the opportunity to
spotlight a wide range of diverse bodies on-screen, especially as it was something the
lead actors were passionate to include.
The normalisation of thinness in the first film mirrored a culture when body shaming was
almost expected, but it’s immensely jarring in the sequel, when we’ve moved beyond
tokenism and ‘before and after’ transformations in films.
There were glimmers of progress: Emily tells Andy to “not carb shame” her, as they tuck
into a bread basket as she emphasises that “carbs shared have no calories.” But the
ghost of diet culture is felt within these scenes that attempt to normalise normal eating
behaviours, which are only limited, again, to those who “fit” into the stereotype of a slim,
fashionable woman.
As much as I wanted to love the sequel - and parts of it I adored - I was disappointed
that in a comforting nostalgic space, I felt embarrassed to believe that I would be seen
and included. Representation isn’t just about seeing yourself on screen, but how that
image is built and the language that surrounds it.
