A long time ago, in a Manhattan far, far away, a young commoner walked into a magical kingdom named Vogue and took a job as an assistant to Queen Wintour. She eventually escaped the clutches of her regal tormentor and wrote a roman à clef about her experiences. Names were changed, and the story was technically categorized as fiction. But everyone knew who this “Miranda Priestly” character, with her Hermès scarf and sharp tongue, really was. Besides, industry gossip, behind-the-curtain peeks and