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How 7 Looks for ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ Came Together

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How 7 Looks for ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ Came Together

When Molly Rogers got the call to work on the costumes for “The Devil Wears Prada,” she could sense right away that she was involved in something special.

“I knew people were going to go nuts for it — I’d never turned the pages of a script like that before,” said Rogers, who worked on the 2006 film as the associate costume designer under the tutelage of her longtime mentor, the “Sex and the City” costume designer Patricia Field.

But even Rogers couldn’t have predicted just how big the film would become. In the 20 years since its release, the comedy, about the imperious fashion magazine editor Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep) and her ill-suited assistant, Andy (Anne Hathaway), has become part of the cultural lexicon, thanks to memes and memorable lines like Miranda’s contemptuous catchphrase, “That’s all.”

So when Field, who was busy styling the rom-com series “Emily in Paris,” asked Rogers to handle the costumes for the film sequel — this time as lead designer — she jumped at the opportunity.

Some designers might have been intimidated. Hathaway has called designing the costumes for a “Devil Wears Prada” film a “heroic act,” explaining in a recent Times article: “It’s not just one character arc, it’s so, so many. Fashion is a language in the film; it’s another character.”

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For Rogers, though, the experience was more nostalgic than nerve-racking.

“It was like coming back to summer camp,” she said of the production.

On a recent morning at the Four Seasons Hotel in Lower Manhattan, Rogers went over sketches for six pivotal costumes from “The Devil Wears Prada 2” — and one that didn’t make the cut.

At Rogers’s first meeting with Streep, Miranda’s gala look came up, and both had the same immediate thought: “It has to be red.”

“And she’s the one who said, ‘Let’s do a sleeve on one arm and bare on the other,’” Rogers said of Miranda’s asymmetrical gown, which is a custom-made Balenciaga in red silk super taffeta. “It’s so fabulous.”

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The dress, which features a tilted collar and a thin matching belt, was built in Paris, with a team from Balenciaga flying to New York City twice to fit Streep for it.

At one point the actress suggested trying a hat to top off the look — possibly a nod to horns — but Rogers said she knew it was “gilding the lily.”

“It was her white hair alone that the red gown should frame,” she said.

As Runway magazine’s new features editor, Andy is back in the same orbit as her frenemy and fellow ex-assistant, Emily Charlton (Emily Blunt), who’s now an executive at Christian Dior. To solve a crisis at the magazine, Andy agrees to an expansive feature on the company, whose advertising dollars Runway needs.

For Andy’s interview look, Rogers opted for a black button-down Jean Paul Gaultier pinstriped vest, paired with matching slacks, a pearl necklace — and nothing underneath.

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“I was constantly trying to balance found things with things that she could have afforded and that she would wear as a professional reporter,” Rogers said.

There’s also a surprise when Andy turns around: The vest has an all-white silk back.

“I loved that,” Rogers said.

For a scene involving a backstabbing Emily, Rogers went with a sequined Dior houndstooth power suit — with a Zimmermann leather capelet.

“I tried to find Dior pieces that have a little edge to them,” Rogers said of the black-and-white wool number from the spring 2026 collection.

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Emily’s style in the sequel, she said, was an extension of the first: The character still has a mix-and-match aesthetic, pairing, for instance, a white Dior button-down with a Wiederhoeft corset and Gaultier black-and-white pinstriped pants.

“We didn’t have enough outfits for her,” Rogers said. “I think she changed 16 times.”

One lesson Rogers has learned in more than 40 years working with Field, she said, is that “you cannot force an actor to wear anything.”

“You can have your heart set on a gown that you want in a scene and think it’s the perfect color, but you’re not the one in it,” she said. “Pat’s fittings, and mine as well, are very collaborative: Do you like what I brought into the room? How does it feel on you?”

So when she came across this homey, tasseled Dries Van Noten jacket, she crossed her fingers that Streep would dig it.

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Streep did.

“She thought it was a great piece for the right scene,” Rogers said. “I thought it had enough oomph to it to still be in the office, and it looked like ‘editor.’ It made me think of Diana Vreeland,” once the editor in chief of Vogue.

Andy’s gala look inverts the movie’s through-line of sleeveless pieces layered atop button-ups and blouses: Here the base layer, a blouse from the Armani Privé fall 2024 couture collection, is sheer, tucked beneath a black silk velvet jumpsuit with pinstripe Swarovski crystal suspenders.

“It came down the runway without a blouse, and I was like, David’s never going to let me do that,” Rogers said, referring to the director, David Frankel. “Anne Hathaway at the dinner table with no blouse on — how cool would that be? But they made us a beautiful sheer blouse.”

Another hat that appeared in Rogers’s initial sketch bit the dust: a velvet Armani beret with jet-black glass stones.

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“I am a hat fighter,” Rogers said. “I’ve gone through big hat fights, with Sarah Jessica Parker and I fighting for hats on TV shows. They always don’t want to light them, or they cast shadows, blah blah blah, and it always unfinishes an outfit.”

Though the beret for Andy was fabricated, she said, “sure enough, they killed it.”

When Miranda saunters through the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, Milan’s stunning historic shopping arcade, the lights shimmer off the colored crystals and black sequins on her Armani overcoat, turning her into a human disco ball.

“When I read the script, I was like, ‘That needs to dazzle,’” Rogers said of the statement piece from Giorgio Armani’s Privé spring 2025 couture collection, which she layered over a tie-neck Lurex Oud blouse and black trousers.

It was a choice she initially had some trepidation about.

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“I was afraid of the pussy-bow blouse on Miranda Priestly,” she said. “Because that feels soft to me. But it was such a cacophony of colors and textures, and I felt like it was strong enough.”

Miranda’s black cat-eye Prada glasses are striking, of course, but Rogers said the boldest accessory was her side-swept white hair.

“I think that there was great resistance to that,” Rogers said. “People didn’t understand that.”

The look was drawn from that of the fashion editor Polly Mellen and the model Carmen Dell’Orefice.

“Meryl and Pat insisted on it,” Rogers said.

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Emily’s gala dress — a strapless Dior gown with a nude tulle and black lace corset top, matching opera gloves and a slinky black satin skirt with a double side bow — was Rogers’s favorite look from the film. Alas, it ended up on the cutting-room floor.

Still, she said, she loved getting the chance to bring an edge to a very un-Emily-like shape.

“When I think of Dior and bows, I think of Charlotte,” Rogers said of the preppy “Sex and the City” character. “So to take a Dior bow and make it look — there’s a bit of a goth idea there. And I thought that was really appropriate for her character.”

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Video: Stephen Colbert Closes Out “Late Show”

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Video: Stephen Colbert Closes Out “Late Show”

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Stephen Colbert Closes Out “Late Show”

Stephen Colbert signed off for the last time from “The Late Show” on Thursday. His final guest was Paul McCartney and together they performed the Beatles’ “Hello, Goodbye.”

“Tonight is our final broadcast from the Ed Sullivan Theater.”

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Stephen Colbert signed off for the last time from “The Late Show” on Thursday. His final guest was Paul McCartney and together they performed the Beatles’ “Hello, Goodbye.”

By Julie Yoon

May 22, 2026

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L.A. Affairs: I married at 51 after decades of being single. My dog turned out to be the better companion

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L.A. Affairs: I married at 51 after decades of being single. My dog turned out to be the better companion

In the past two years, I’ve changed my pronouns twice. But I’m not talking about my gender identity. I’ve always been a cis she/her/hers woman. I’ve also, for most of my life, been single, an I in a sea of coupled we’s.

The world prefers a we to an I, especially if you’re a woman. If someone casually asks what you did this weekend, responding “I bought a Christmas tree” is a sad, lonely statement to most listeners. Responding “We bought a Christmas tree” is a happy, cozy statement, reflecting that you will not be spending Christmas alone, or, one can infer, most likely dying alone too.

I, like many women, was raised on the myth of marriage. Growing up in the San Fernando Valley in the ’70s and ’80s, it was a foregone conclusion I’d get married one day and have a family. My mom often would say, “Just wait until you have kids of your own,” when she thought I was being difficult. She continued to say this into my 40s, at which point I’d respond, with sadness and self-pity, that, at my age, I was probably never going to have kids or get married.

Finally, well into middle age, I stopped caring about getting married and focused on how good my life as a single woman was. I lived in an ocean-view apartment in Santa Monica. I’d built a successful small business. I had great friends. I’d adopted a dog, Fofo, the best decision of my life.

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Then I met the love of my life. Vagner was tall, unbearably handsome and disarmingly charming.

We found each other on an app and met up for the first time at my community garden plot on Main Street, then got ramen at Jinya. From that moment on, we were together. Vagner loved the Santa Monica Pier, which he’d seen in a video game he’d played with his teenage son in Rio. The pier was a short stroll from my apartment, and when we walked Fofo at sunset, Vagner always wanted to climb the wooden stairs and take in the glorious view from the pier. He was like a kid experiencing something from a movie in real life, and seeing the city through his eyes gave it a new sense of wonder.

When I broke my shoulder six weeks into our romance and needed surgery, he stayed with me in the hospital and moved in to care for me. Only an amazing guy would do that. One evening Vagner got down on one knee and proposed. We were in love. He was in the U.S. on a six-month tourist visa, and to stay together, we had to get married before his visa expired. Vagner was the most loving, caring man I’d ever known, so I said yes.

We got married three months after meeting, and Vagner turned into a different person 24 hours after we said, “I do.”

The toothpaste he bought at Costco lasted longer than our marriage.

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But for the 11 months we were married, I experienced the glory of being a we instead of an I. Suddenly I was part of a giant club, the Partnered People. While it wasn’t an exclusive club, it still felt wonderful to finally get in.

I relished speaking in the plural. I loved talking to my married friends about us, our marriage, our life. I was no longer left out.

If I could find love and get married for the first time at 51 — in L.A., a city notoriously difficult for dating, especially for women over 40 — anyone could.

When I began to confide in married girlfriends about our problems, they unfailingly shared their own marital struggles, things they’d never mentioned when I was single. Over sushi and spicy margaritas at Wabi on Rose, a longtime friend advised me about how to give your husband wins, build up his self-esteem and keep from overwhelming him with perceived demands. I was grateful for her advice, and though I tried the strategies she’d suggested, nothing I did made any difference. Vagner was shut down, emotionally absent and prone to walking out every time we had a disagreement.

Still, I clung to my newfound identity as a we, even though there was very little us in the marriage. Even being unhappily married, I was still part of the club.

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“It doesn’t matter if you date for 10 weeks or 10 years, people change after they get married,” I heard from more than one sympathetic soul. I took some comfort in this since I was beginning to blame myself for getting married too quickly.

The truth of the matter was, we had a far bigger problem than adjusting to being married. Believing we were simply two good people who’d rushed to the altar under the influence of euphoric new love and the pressure of an expiring visa was far less painful than the truth.

In our first conversation, he told me he was a lawyer. In reality, he was an ex-military police officer who’d been dismissed for misconduct. But his biggest omission was neglecting to tell me about his second child, a 13-year-old son who bore his full name, whose existence I discovered three months into our marriage when he disclosed it on an immigration form. He claimed the child wasn’t his but the product of his ex-wife’s infidelity.

Also, Vagner rarely wanted to spend time together. The moment he got his employment authorization, he announced a plan to take a job in Florida as a long-haul truck driver. On Christmas Eve. That was the beginning of the end.

The reality, which I only began to absorb bit by bit after I ended it, is that my husband was not only a prolific storyteller but also a master manipulator. I was lucky to get out with only a broken heart, not a broken life.

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As good as it had felt — at least briefly — to finally be a we, there was no denying that I had been far happier as an I. As I walked Fofo by the beach, cuddled with him on the couch and threw his ball at Hotchkiss Park, I realized he was a superior companion to my ex-husband.

Fortunately, I hadn’t changed my name, so the only thing I had to change back were my pronouns. There was not even one tiny part of me that missed being able to refer to myself as we, so immense was the relief of freeing myself of Vagner.

Although I forfeited my membership in the Partnered People club, I became a member of another, equally nonexclusive-but-far-less-touted club, the Happily Divorced Women.

The author is the founder of Inner Genius Prep, a boutique educational and career consulting company. She lives in Santa Monica, holds an MFA in creative writing from Brooklyn College and is working on a memoir about having a mystery illness. She’s on Instagram: @smgardengirl.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

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‘Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu’ may not be the way : Pop Culture Happy Hour

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‘Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu’ may not be the way : Pop Culture Happy Hour

Pedro Pascal in The Mandalorian And Grogu.

Lucasfilm Ltd.


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Lucasfilm Ltd.

The Mandalorian has made the jetpack-assisted leap to the big screen with the new movie Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu. The laconic bounty hunter (Pedro Pascal) and his cute sidekick Grogu are hired by the good guys to do a job for some bad guys. You know what you’re gonna get – creatures, droids, easter eggs, and lots of fights. But, after three seasons on Disney+, will folks go out to the theaters to watch something they’ve gotten to know on their couches? 

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