Revenge Wears Prada - Lauren Weisberger - Free download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online for free. Read an excerpt of Revenge Wears Prada. Simon Schuster, , ISBN: , pages, PDF, English. "The Devil Wears Prada" is a best selling novel by Lauren Weisberger about a young. deconstructing books, plays, short stories, and poems were for: a chance to comfort a small, white, batlike bulldog while trying not to demolish someone else' s.
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Revenge Wears Prada. View PDF. book | Fiction | US & Canada → Atria the follow-up to the sensational number one bestseller The Devil Wears Prada. Editorial Reviews. Review. “A juicy drama.” (US Weekly) “Seems like a must- have beach read An site Book with Buzz: "Maybe You Should Talk to Someone" "This is a daring, delightful, and transformative book." ―Arianna Huffington. File Name: Revenge Wears Prada: The Devil Returns Total Downloads: Formats: djvu | pdf | epub | site. Rated: /10 (04 votes). Check out the World.
A knowing send-up of my fashion milieu? Seemed like just the ticket for an upcoming long-haul flight. Before I took off for the airport, I made one additional effort to put my Prada-ambivalence aside.
If anyone could speak to that subject, it would be Cutrone. She perceives the ridiculous; what I behold is the specificity of fashion.
Much of what outsiders perceive as fashion bitchiness is really just a heightened sense of detail.
For a photographer or art director, that might mean picking the best shot out of a dozen takes that look almost exactly the same. A stylist has to know how to pin a dress so that it hangs with a certain attitude, and when I review a fashion show, I need to notice that the shape of a shoulder is different from the season before. Revenge Wears Prada commences a decade later, with Andy now the editor-in-chief of an independent, aspirational bridal magazine called The Plunge.
Andy herself is about to be wed, to the handsome scion of a blue chip family. But what was Max doing there? He was away that weekend, upstate somewhere, for a reason she couldnt quite remember.
Wasnt he? She stopped and turned, searching for him. Over here, Andy!
And then she spotted him. Her anc, with his thick black hair and piercing green eyes and rugged good looks, was sitting astride an enormous white horse. Andy didnt particularly like horses ever since shed fallen from one in second grade and shattered her right wrist, but that horse looked friendly enough. Never mind that Max was riding a white horse in midtown Manhattan in the middle of a blizzardAndy was so ecstatic to see him, she didnt even think to question it.
He dismounted with the ease of a practiced rider, and Andy tried to remember if hed ever mentioned playing polo. In three long strides he was at her side, enveloping her in the warmest, most delicious embrace imaginable, and she felt her whole body relax as she collapsed into him. My poor baby, he murmured, paying neither the horse nor the staring pedestrians any mind.
You must be freezing out here. The sound of a phonethat phonerang out between them, and Andy scrambled to answer it. I dont know what part of immediately you dont understand, but Andys whole body was shaking as Mirandas shrill voice drilled into her ear, but before she could move a single muscle, Max plucked the phone from her ngertips, tapped end on the screen, and tossed it with perfect aim directly into the puddle R E V E N G E W E A R S P R A DA that had previously claimed Andys feet.
Youre done with her, Andy, he said, wrapping a large down comforter around her shoulders. Ohmigod Max, how could you do that? Im so late! I havent even made it to the restaurant yet, and shes going to kill me if Im not back there with her lunch in Shhh, he said, touching two ngers to Andys lips.
Youre safe now.
Youre with me. But its already ten after one, and if she doesnt Max reached both hands under Andys arms and lifted her effortlessly into the air before gently depositing her sidesaddle on top of the white horse, whose name, according to Max, was Bandit. She sat in shocked silence as Max removed both her soaking wet shoes and tossed them to the curb. From his duffel bagthe one he carried everywhereMax pulled out Andys favorite eece-lined bootie-style slippers and slid them onto her raw, red feet.
The Devil Wears Prada
He settled the down comforter over her lap, tied his own cashmere scarf over her head and around her neck, and handed her a steel thermos of what he said was specially sourced dark hot chocolate.
Her favorite. Then in one impressively uid motion, he mounted the horse and picked up the reins. Before she could say another word, they began to trot down Seventh Avenue at a good clip, the police escort in front of them clearing the way of trafc and pedestrians.
It was such a relief to be warm and loved, but Andy couldnt get rid of the panic she felt at not completing a Miranda-assigned task. Shed be red, that much was sure, but what if it was worse than that? What if Miranda was so livid that she used her limitless inuence to make sure Andy never got another job?
What if she decided to teach her assistant a lesson and show her exactly what happened when one simply walked outnot once but twiceon Miranda Priestly?
Revenge Wears Prada ‘gets fashion all wrong’
I have to go back! Andy shouted into the wind as their trot became a run. Max, turn around and take me back! I cant. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Her eyes ew open. The only thing she felt was the pounding of her own heart as it raced in her chest.
Youre okay, baby. It was just a dream.
And from the looks of it, a really horrible one, Max crooned, cupping her cheek with his cool palm. She pushed herself up and saw the early morning sun streaming in from the rooms window.
There was no snow, no sleet, no horse. Her feet were bare but warm under the buttery soft sheets, and Maxs body felt strong and safe pressed against her own.
She inhaled deeply, and the scent of Maxhis breath, his skin, his hairlled her nostrils.
Revenge Wears Prada: The Devil Returns ebook online
It was only a dream. She glanced around the bedroom.
She still felt half asleep, fuzzy from being awakened at the wrong time. But on the eve of the wedding, Andy makes what is to her a chilling discovery to the reader, it's odd: a letter she broods over yet never discusses with her husband? This sequel is amusing fluff, but it's too rambling to have as much charm as the original: the author can't seem to decide whether she is writing about Andy's relationship with Max, with Emily, or about Miranda -- and so she tackles all three simultaneously.
Some of the twists and turns are improbable -- why does Max take the stance that he does about the fate of "The Plunge", knowing full well what the wife he claims to adore feels? We never really learn. And that is just one example of spots where the author seems to have done a hasty job with this sequel. There is still plenty of voyeuristic glee at Miranda's behavior to be had here -- but it's not really all that different from what we saw in the first book.
And while there is plenty of snark about celebrity weddings, the fashion biz and the excesses of hedge fund gazillionaires, the sequel offers relatively little in the way of compelling material or fresh satire. It almost as if the author has to have some of her characters do certain things in order to get Andy to where she wants her to be by the end of the novel, however improbable the actions or coincidences that lead her there.Shed learned early on that it was easier to agree with Barbara and then go on to do what she pleased; arguing got her nowhere.
I havent even made it to the restaurant yet, and shes going to kill me if Im not back there with her lunch in Shhh, he said, touching two ngers to Andys lips. Andrea spends about half the book thinking Max has been cheating on her, and then that particular plot line disappears without a whimper. She still giggles adorably about how clueless she is about fashion, but just as in the first book, not a single character enters a scene without a lengthy description of their wardrobe - complete with the appropriate contempt directed at anyone who dares wear clogs or pantsuits.
Hilariously, when they do come face to face at a meeting to discuss the sale of the magazine, Miranda hasn't the foggiest notion who Andrea is.
She was less than two blocks from the restaurant she could see it lit up ahead like a warm, shimmering promise when a particularly nasty gust propelled her forward, causing her to lose her balance.
But what of Miranda Priestly, the titular "Devil" of the first book, and her "revenge"?
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