Miranda Priestly Has Left the Building

“The Devil Wears Prada” editors are out, inclusive and approachable editors are in—what does this mean for the publishing industry and what’s it got to do with you?
Reading Time: 4 minutes

Once upon a time, becoming a lifestyle editor (or even a magazine editor) seemed as impossible as becoming the president or an astronaut. For a desk job, the position was so coveted that the path toward it was almost mysterious. Little girls who loved magazines would dream of working behind the scenes armed with the knowledge that “you gotta start somewhere.” And so they aim for intern, editorial assistant, reporter, unclear about how or if they will ever get to be Queen Bee.

How did editors in the ‘80s and ‘90s get their jobs anyway? You’d be surprised to learn that many of them got their jobs pretty much the same way writers do now—through entry-level positions that allowed them to shine and earn their superiors’ respect. Sure, nepo babies existed, but they were scions of successful families from other flourishing industries.

Publishing was just a baby, and these fresh faces, however they got their positions, were steering their ships in uncharted waters. Waters that, mind you, were already filled with cut-throat sharks: news editors, political analysts, police reporters, and Malacañang mainstays (the Great Whites). Lifestyle as a beat had a spread in the paper at most or a Sunday pull-out that received little to no budget and a whole lot of pressure to perform.

These young editors, with the future of lifestyle publishing on their shoulders, had to carve their niche in an industry that belittled them for writing “fluff” pieces that were of no real worth. Can you really blame them for putting on a tough exterior and taking their jobs (and themselves) a little too seriously? Up to a certain point, they deserved every bit of reverence they received from people around them. Let’s give credit where credit is due: without the so-called terror editors of eras past, none of you “nice” editors would be here.

The Publishing Elite

You know who they are. They get the best tables at sit-down dinners and front-row seats at fashion shows. They receive the most expensive PR packages and are flown abroad to cover the most exclusive events. Most importantly, they get the scoop, which should be your top concern if you’re a journalist worth your salt.

The super elite of the group can even block fellow editors from getting any information, at least until it’s become old news. They have the juiciest tea: they know who’s getting sacked at the competition before anyone else does. They know who’s rising through the ranks at luxury companies. They know where celebrity brand ambassadors are staying when they visit the Philippines. They know where to get the unpublished Harry Potter manuscript. And all these are not gossip, but actual facts handed to them by their informants. The currency they exchange for it? Preferred placements in their prestigious pubs and their best writers deployed to press events. To them, this isn’t funny business, but simply the business they have to do to stay afloat.

Digital publishing (and everything that comes with it: bloggers, influencers, content creators, digital magazines, etc.) has diminished their power. A power that mostly comes from helming the last few traditional titles we have left, bestowed upon them by people who are also in power. Back then, “editor” was a position that held prestige because, as they say in the newsroom, someone literally has to die before anyone gets promoted. It was a tough space, so they developed tough skin.

These days, anyone can declare themselves an editor and fashion themselves as elite—there’s no anointing or appointing, no passing of the torch. This also means there’s no screening, no training, and no quality control, but that’s how the internet works. You just have to learn to take the bad with the good, and hopefully learn to differentiate one from the other.

No Bad Blood From the New Blood

Here’s the funny thing: as much as we’d want to pit the old guard with the new guard against each other, the latter couldn’t care less. The “establishment” will inevitably feel threatened by new players, but these new players don’t necessarily think about them as competitors or pillars to knock down. You’d think that because of so much competition, this new breed of publishers would resort to nastywork, but they don’t. The niceness is baffling, but the camaraderie is real.

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There’s no gatekeeping here: if they’re wearing Prada we will know about it, if they’re wearing ukay we will know about it, if they’re wearing fast-fashion, we will know about it.

Credit that to the fact that the new generation of editors is shaped by a different world—one that’s sensitive to well-being and mental health, chooses acceptance over exclusivity, and is hyper-aware of how the old system once made them feel as interns, assistants, and young writers.

These values are reflected in their publications, from the content they push to the people they hire, even down to the clothes they wear. There’s no gatekeeping here: if they’re wearing Prada we will know about it, if they’re wearing ukay we will know about it, if they’re wearing fast-fashion, we will know about it.

This focus on diversity, equality, and inclusion was not quite an option (and perhaps was unthinkable) for editors of yore, whose empires were built on connections, access, and the spirit of competition. What was once kept from and fed to the masses—in a curated manner—as content, now floods their phones to the point of oversaturation.

If it appears like there’s no space for the untouchable old guard in this publishing landscape, it’s not because the new guard is fighting to ease them out. Instead, they are faced with more formidable foes: the passage of time, the speed of invention, and the changing preferences of the Filipino reader.

We want transparency. We want details. We want to know what paint color is on your walls. The new system is cutthroat in ways that the traditional editor may not be able to cope with, in the same way that the old ways of publishing would simply have all the untrained, wannabe editors dropping off the face of the internet like flies.

Every generation of editors has its strengths and weaknesses. The early days of publishing, in hindsight, gave editors room to be perfectionists, master curators, and monolithic shapers of culture. But in this new era? Everyone’s a main character, a person of influence. Curation? Nah, the people want options. Perfection? That’s impossible to achieve and that’s okay. At the end of the day, these changes are what we make of it. We can wax poetic about the old days of paste-up and complain about how today’s editors “don’t know how to write,” or open our eyes to what they bring to the table. (They should still learn how to write, though.)

Miranda Priestly has left the building, leaving a legacy that will always be revered, but not necessarily replicated. Once, a million girls would have killed for her job. Now, a million girls possibly, quite literally have it. If they would ever be able to fill her shoes, only time will tell.

ILLUSTRATION BY SANDY ARANAS.

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