🚨 DEVIL WEARS PRADA 2 TRAILER JUST DROPPED: Miranda Priestly struts back in red stilettos, spots Andy in the elevator, and hisses “YOU?” like it’s personal.
20 years later: Andy’s a hotshot editor. Miranda’s empire’s crumbling. And that elevator stare-down? Pure ice. Set to “Vogue,” it’s giving mentor-rival apocalypse.
The internet’s already begging for mercy. #ThatsAll is trending worldwide. Watch before your feed fills with ugly cries. You’ll gasp. You’ll stan. You’ll need therapy. đź‘ đź’”
That’s all? Honey, that was just the beginning.
Nearly two decades after The Devil Wears Prada turned a snarky tell-all into a $326 million cultural juggernaut, 20th Century Studios has unleashed the first teaser trailer for its long-gestating sequel—and it’s serving ice-cold revenge with a side of existential dread for the print media era. Dropped on Wednesday morning to Madonna’s pulsating “Vogue,” the 51-second clip clocks in like a runway strut: sharp, unforgiving, and leaving jaws on the floor. Within hours, it shattered Netflix’s single-day trailer record (wait, no—Disney+? Scratch that, it’s everywhere), amassing 45 million views across YouTube, TikTok, and X, where #PradaRevenge is outpacing election drama.
For the uninitiated (or those who’ve been living under a caftan), the 2006 original—directed by David Frankel and based on Lauren Weisberger’s thinly veiled Vogue exposé—catapulted Anne Hathaway from rom-com darling to A-list force as Andy Sachs, the wide-eyed Yale grad who lands a nightmare gig as assistant to Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep, in an Oscar-nominated masterclass of frosty terror). Under Miranda’s glacial gaze, Andy trades Birkenstocks for Louboutins, navigates backstabbing assistants like Emily (Emily Blunt), and dodges the sartorial sermons from art director Nigel (Stanley Tucci). It was The Office meets All the President’s Men, grossing $326 million worldwide and birthing quotables like “Cerulean blue” that still haunt fashion week. Streep’s Miranda? A thinly fictionalized Anna Wintour, who once quipped she showed up to the premiere in Prada “with no idea what it was about.”
Fast-forward to 2026: The Devil Wears Prada 2 (working title: Cerulean, a nod to that infamous monologue) picks up the threads from Weisberger’s 2013 sequel novel, Revenge Wears Prada: The Devil Returns. Andy’s no longer fetching lattes—she’s a powerhouse editor at a rival digital media empire, married with kids, and gunning for Miranda’s throne as Runway teeters on the brink of irrelevance. Miranda, gray-streaked and unbowed, faces retirement whispers amid a print apocalypse fueled by TikTok influencers and algorithm overlords. But the real venom? Emily Charlton, Miranda’s former whipping girl turned cutthroat exec (Blunt, upgraded from side-eye to switchblade), now leading the charge to poach Runway’s ad dollars. It’s not just fashion; it’s a full-on boardroom cage match about legacy, loyalty, and who gets to define “in” when the industry’s out.
The teaser? A masterclass in minimalism that packs more punch than a Marc Jacobs show. It opens on a close-up of blood-red Valentino stilettos clicking through Runway’s fluorescent-lit halls—mirrors everywhere, assistants scattering like roaches. The camera pans up to reveal Streep’s Miranda, lips pursed in that signature “disappoint” sneer, Hermès scarf knotted like a noose. She pauses at the elevator, doors ding open, and there—framed like a ghost from Christmas past—is Hathaway’s Andy, power-suited and unapologetic, clutching an iPad like a shield. Their eyes lock. Miranda’s glacial whisper: “You.” Andy’s half-smile: “Miss me?” Cut to black. Title card slams: The Devil Wears Prada 2. May 1, 2026. That’s hardly groundbreaking. Fade out on Vogue’s thump.
No plot spoilers, no full cast parade—just 51 seconds of tension thicker than Louboutin soles. But damn if it doesn’t work. The fandom—those die-hards who’ve memorized every outtake—erupted like a Met Gala afterparty gone wrong. X lit up with 2.3 million mentions in the first hour: “Miranda saying ‘You’ like Andy just murdered her Birkin” trended at #1, while TikToks of fans lip-syncing the stare-down have already hit 150 million views. One viral edit mashes the clip with the original’s “I need 10 or 15 belts” meltdown, captioned “Mother is mothering… but Andy’s grown teeth.” Reddit’s r/DevilWearsPrada gained 50,000 subscribers overnight, threads dissecting the elevator’s “hostile reunion energy” like it’s the Zapruder film.
Even the cast is feeding the frenzy. Hathaway, 43 and fresh off The Idea of You glow-up, posted a single blurry elevator selfie on Insta: “Back where it all began… or ended? đź‘ ” (12 million likes in 90 minutes). Streep, 76 and selective as ever (her last big-screen turn was Don’t Look Up in 2021), broke radio silence with a rare X post: a screenshot of the trailer paused on her sneer, captioned “Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking… again.” Blunt, elevating from comic relief to villainess supreme, teased in a Variety Zoom: “Emily’s not assisting anymore—she’s assassinating. And Miranda? She’s the boss who taught me how.” Tucci’s Nigel returns as the voice of snarky reason, while new blood like Sydney Sweeney (as a Gen-Z influencer wildcard) and Kenneth Branagh (Miranda’s silver-fox hubby) promise fresh chaos. Simone Ashley (Bridgerton) pops in undisclosed, fueling whispers of an Andy daughter subplot.
Behind the sequin’s shimmer, this isn’t mere nostalgia bait—it’s a timely gut-punch to an industry in freefall. Weisberger, who slaved for Wintour IRL, doubles down on the novel’s themes: Andy’s digital disruptor vs. Miranda’s analog empire, with Emily as the vengeful bridge. “It’s about what happens when the devil gets old,” director Frankel told The Hollywood Reporter at a secretive wrap party last month. “Meryl wanted authenticity—no soft-focus on age. Anne? She’s the anti-hero we deserve.” Filming kicked off in a sun-soaked summer blitz: Brooklyn brownstones for Andy’s “relatable” life, Milan ateliers for Runway’s death throes, and NYC subways where paparazzi caught Streep in full ice-queen regalia. Budget? A cool $80 million, per insiders, with cameos from actual Vogue alums (Wintour herself? Fingers crossed). Disney’s banking on it: Early test screenings (hush-hush) scored an A CinemaScore, with audiences howling at Miranda’s first zinger: “Digital? That’s not innovation, Andrea. That’s illiteracy.”
Critics are circling like sharks at Fashion Week. IndieWire hails it as “a sequel that bites back,” praising the trailer’s “elevator tension that rivals Inception‘s dreams.” The Guardian warns: “If the original was empowerment porn, this is the hangover—print’s dying, and Miranda’s dragging everyone down with her.” Purists gripe about straying from the book (no twins? Gasp), but box-office crystal-ballers predict $400 million easy, especially with Streep’s three-Oscar clout and Hathaway’s post-Ocean’s 8 bankability. Wintour, who “retired” earlier this year amid CondĂ© Nast shakeups, reportedly consulted: “Meryl nailed me again. Terrifying.”
Zooming out, Prada 2 taps a vein of millennial midlife malaise: What happens when your toxic boss becomes your mirror? Andy’s arc— from doormat to disruptor—mirrors Hathaway’s own pivot from ingenue to indie darling, while Streep’s Miranda embodies the unretiring elite clinging to relevance. Blunt’s Emily? A middle-finger to assistant burnout, her rivalry with Miranda a powder keg of “I learned from the best—and now I’ll bury you.” Production perks included a real Chanel atelier takeover and a “no cellphones” set rule that had Sweeney joking, “I felt like I was in The Truman Show.”
As May 1 looms, hype’s stratospheric. Disney+ bundles it with the original for “Prada Palooza” marathons; merch drops include $500 replica stilettos (sold out in beta). Fan cons are popping: One L.A. event sold 5,000 tickets for “Cerulean Cocktails” in 20 minutes. Will it eclipse the original’s quotable glory? Or flop like a Crocs runway? One thing’s certain: When Miranda and Andy collide, no one’s walking away unscathed.
Gird your loins, fashion fam. The devil’s back—and she’s got unfinished business.
