Dear Carrie Bradshaw, Andy Sachs, Rebecca Bloomwood… Thanks for the Dream Job

Through the warm glow of television screens, we caught fleeting glimpses of the glossy world of magazines—fashion shows unfolding one after another, phones ringing off the hook with calls from brands, archive closets brimming with the season’s newest collections. While these scenes belonged to fictional worlds, we lived them vicariously through the rom-com and chick flick heroines we grew up watching (and still rewatch to this day).

We dreamed of having Andy Sachs’ overnight style transformation in The Devil Wears Prada, or experiencing Andie Anderson’s quirky yet brilliant way of penning her how-to columns in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. We wanted those roles—those desks, those wardrobes, those deadlines. And for some, the dream became real.

It’s not a stretch to say that many young editors and writers were drawn to the industry by those iconic portrayals—chasing the same thrill, the same hustle, the same magic. But if we had the chance to speak to those characters today, what would we say to them?

So we asked: What would you write in a letter to the fictional heroines who sparked your editorial dreams? In this special tribute, writers and editors pen heartfelt notes to the screen characters who first opened the door to the world of words, deadlines, and that ever-elusive gloss.

To Carrie Bradshaw of Sex and the City

Once upon a time, an aspiring journalist from New York—Cubao, to be exact—saw you on TV for the very first time: impeccably witty, unapologetically sexy, fashion-forward, and most importantly, true to what you wrote. I found it striking that an episode of Sex and the City would one day become a prompt for my career. And that very prompt became a question—not just about what I wanted to do, but about the kind of woman I hoped to be.

I couldn’t help but wonder…

Would my name ever make it as a byline? Could I break into the industry without compromising who I am or the things I adore? And most importantly, would I still look and feel fabulous even on the deadliest deadline?

Writing this now, I guess I did.

Ten years later, I’m here—living a life in magazines. Writing about what I care about. Creating, producing, and shooting stories with love, intention, and a hope that it might inspire the next generation of creatives. Somehow, I manage to do it all in between brunches with my real-life Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha—with my most fabulous vintage arm candy in tow.

The best part? No Mr. Big, Berger, or Aidan stress in sight.

Thank you for showing me that a vibrant, passionate writing life is possible. Here’s to more moments of “I couldn’t help but wonder…” and “And just like that.”

With love,
Mara Go
Beauty Writer, MEGA Magazine

To Rebecca Bloomwood of Confessions of a Shopaholic

I was in third grade the first time I saw you. Back then, I was just a chatty eight-year-old who didn’t know much about the world—only that I wished my school shorts were longer and that nothing felt better than a new outfit. But the moment you twirled onto my screen in your green scarf and boundless optimism, something in me lit up. You loved shopping not just for the thrill of it, but for the sense of control, of identity, of possibility. And so did I.

I didn’t have the words for it then, but you showed me that fashion wasn’t frivolous—it was powerful. Through you, I learned that storytelling could come in the form of bold accessories, a well-placed metaphor, or a column that made people laugh and feel. You were chaotic, brilliant, heartfelt, and watching you figure yourself out helped me believe that maybe I could do the same.

You planted the seed of a dream in me: to become a magazine writer. Like you, I stumbled. I’ve second-guessed myself, felt out of place, wondered if I was on the wrong beat or in the wrong world. But also like you, I kept going. I learned to find my voice, to tell the truth even when it’s messy, and to write with heart.

So thank you, Rebecca. You weren’t just a fictional fashion girl—you were the first person who showed me that words (and wardrobe) could change everything. I owe a part of my story to yours.

With love and lots of scarves,
MJ Calayan
Writer, Lifestyle Asia

To Andrea Sachs of The Devil Wears Prada

You made reinvention look effortless—though we both know it never is. I was far from New York, far from any skyscrapers and editorial meetings.

When I first watched you walk into Runway in borrowed clothes and quiet ambition, you weren’t the obvious choice—but you were the right one because you were willing to begin again.

There’s something quietly radical about that. About entering a world you don’t quite belong to, and deciding you’ll figure it out anyway. You didn’t grow up dreaming of a career in fashion, and yet you immersed yourself in it. You honored the craft, learned its language, and proved that intellect and style can (and should) coexist. You were there to write, but first, you had to become.

In this world of shoots, pullouts, and deadlines, I carry your story with me. You reminded me that growth doesn’t always look loud. And that grace and ambition can live in the same sentence.

Thank you for showing us that it’s never too late to grow into who we’re meant to be.

Forever Driven,
Frances Laman
Fashion Associate, L’Officiel Philippines

To Rebecca Bloomwood of Confessions of a Shopaholic

I’m writing to admit that the Girl in the Green Scarf has officially influenced me to become a real-life magazine writer.

I suppose this is a thank-you letter. I was a bit of a shopaholic myself. What designer shoes, bags, and scarves were to you, teen magazines were to me. I owned heaps of them… literally. Stacks of Total Girl, Candy, Seventeen, and, of course, the occasional One Direction fan magazine. I would tear editorial images from the pages, collage them across my bedroom wall, and daydream about a future where I was a part of the magic that made them.

They still sit somewhere in the bottom drawer of my childhood bookshelf, right below my growing collection of all the print issues I’ve now worked on myself. I think that stack is slowly outgrowing my old one.

Like you, I was once a fan of hyperbolic statements, and I definitely believed that “if I could get this job, I’d be happy forever.” I guess I was, and still am, a believer in the impossible. But like you, I think my dreams only started coming true when I began to fully embrace who I am. Every time I rewatch your story, I’m reminded that no dream or passion should come at the cost of the people I love, or the people who love me—myself included.

I often still feel like the neophyte journalist you were in the movie: clueless, stumbling over my words, with nothing to hold onto except the hope that my natural eye is worthy enough to translate the magic of real life onto paper. But I’m slowly getting into the habit of trusting my gut and having fun first.

So, I guess, thank you. For being you. For being unapologetically silly and feminine, and relatable. For screwing up in your 20s, so I didn’t have to. Or at least, so I wouldn’t feel so bad if I did.

Oh—and thank you for de-influencing me from getting a credit card.

Best,
Bianca Custodio
Beauty Writer, Vogue Philippines

To Andie Anderson of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

I didn’t grow up with sisters, so navigating girlhood meant relying on magazines—they were my bible in my early teen years. I started with simple guides: how to bake chocolate cookies, how to start budgeting, how to dress for whatever fads teenage girls were chasing that month. But a 16-year-old girl can only learn so much about fashion, beauty, or love without someone to explain the unspoken parts of girlhood.

That is, until I stumbled upon you. 

You, the woman who insisted on writing on pressing matters, only to be assigned stories on how to survive the emotional chaos of womanhood. You, who lived through the mess, only to turn them into cheat sheets we consider as scripture.

Andie Anderson, the advice columnist, a.k.a. Composure magazine’s resident How-To Girl.

Funny enough, when I first met you, I simply thought of you as a free-spirited character with how quickly you were to throw yourself into these absurd situations. I mean, 10 days to lose a guy for a story? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. But there was something magnetic about it. I didn’t just want to read about the glossy life—I wanted to live it like you did.

Fast forward to now, and somehow, I did. I became you for a time.

How to Stylishly Overcome First Date Jitters? That was me, after my very first date. How to Handle a Situationship Slump? Definitely inspired by getting ghosted.

Some stories came from my own experience, others from friends—I picked up bits and pieces, and made them my own. I played it safe, sure. But I, too, became a how-to girl and many more. Just like you.

In a way, I became the older sister I never had—for girls who needed one. And I’d do it all again if I had the chance.

While your story might be too outrageous for me to do, thank you for showing me that even the messiest moments of womanhood are worth living and writing about. Thank you for wearing your heart on your sleeve, so that we can live life with empathy and love, despite the possibility of loss.

Thank you—because now I know exactly what to do if I ever need to lose a guy in 10 days. And you know what? Here’s to looking good even in the middle of a breakdown—that’s when the best outfits come out to play.

Your fellow how-to girl,
Caryll Cabuhat
Assistant Editor, The Beauty Edit

P.S. Your methods still work to this day.

To Jenna Rink of 13 Going On 30,

You were one of the first to show us what working in media could look like. Big deadlines, bigger personalities, and a job that somehow felt like both chaos and a dream rolled into one.

Besides the fantasy of it all, what I took from you was the reminder that how you get there matters. That ambition doesn’t mean much if you lose your sense of self. You helped shape what we thought the job could be, and what we now know it should be: something with room for both ambition and accountability.

Figuring it out as I go,
Justine Gaerlan
Content Associate, The Beauty Edit

To Rebecca Bloomwood of Confessions of a Shopaholic,

I haven’t talked to you since I wrote about wanting to be you in my diary back in 2013, after watching Confessions of a Shopaholic for the nth time.

So, where were we?

Oh right—I was questioning what the heck I was doing in a Commerce class when I knew in my heart that the job I wanted was the one you were doing! My heart would beam every time I got the chance to write. I don’t know why I chose that major, of all things. I hate math. I guess I was afraid being a writer wasn’t a “real job.”

Just to catch you up: I’ve been a writer for eight years now, and yes—it is a real job! I’ve worked for a couple of magazines, and I’ve met other journalists (with great shoes) who love you too. I didn’t end up transferring to a writing program like I said I would, but I guess life’s funny that way. What’s meant for you really won’t pass you by.

You showed me that women can be smart, fun, beautiful, tenacious, impactful, and imperfect—all at the same time. That made me less afraid.

And even though you weren’t book-accurate, you still changed my life, Girl in the Green Scarf.

P.S. I actually did write about personal finance, salary advances, and cashbacks briefly a few years back. You would’ve loved cashbacks.

Love always,
Girl with the Blonde Hair—Chin Obiedo
Beauty writer, Metro.Style

Photos: HBO, Touchstone Pictures, 20th Century Fox, Paramount Pictures, and Columbia Pictures.