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Is Miranda Priestly About to Retire?
Our sources have spotted Miranda Priestly, editor-in-chief of Runway magazine growing out her iconic white hair. Is this change in style going to affect Runway’s future? …
Andy had always been obsessed with how Miranda styled her hair, it was different, noticeable, and eye-catching. She liked how it made her stand out against the rest, like she was born to be an important person.
When Andy first noticed Miranda was beginning to grow out her hair, she forced herself not to point it out, lest Miranda take notice of it and immediately cut it, but it’s far past that point. Miranda must’ve noticed that her - used to be - pixie cut was now shoulder length. And even now as her iconic white hair reached her shoulders it made Andy happy to see that she was experimenting with her appearance, besides, it gave Andy an excuse to play with her hair.
I mean, it's not odd for Miranda to want to grow it out, is it? She still makes a point to style it every morning, it’s not like she’s gone mad.
Andy stared at the article quizzically, she couldn’t understand why news outlets continued to spread false information like this like The Boy Who Cried Wolf. It was honestly laughable.
Miranda Priestly and retirement were two words that did not go together and everyone knew that.
She chuckled at the absurdity of the words plastered on her phone screen as she made her way towards Miranda’s office space, placed on the second floor of the townhouse.
The two women had their own separate offices in their home, though they hardly found themselves actually using it unless they truly needed zero distractions - which was hardly ever needed after the twins moved out. They always found themselves working in close proximity to one another, stationed in the living room, dining room, bedroom, or even study. It was nice to just be able to enjoy each other's company without talking to the other person, something they found themselves doing almost everyday, hardly ever breaking the silence as they saw no need to.
Andy brought her fist to the wooden door, lightly knocking on it in hopes for an answer.
Thankfully, an answer came and quite quickly too, “Come in,” she heard Miranda project her voice from the inside of the room.
One thing Andy admired about the older woman was her ability to project her voice without ever sounding like she was yelling, it was a strange gift she possessed.
Andy happily opened the door, making her way into the room, and taking her place next to Miranda as she sat on top of the woman’s desk. She turned her phone, displaying the monstrosity that was projected onto her screen to the older woman.
“I mean, can you believe this? They think that just because you’re growing out your hair that you’re gonna retire! It’s so stupid.” Andy found herself running her finger through Miranda’s silver curls, enjoying the soft texture she felt on her finger tips.
“Hm,” Miranda simply hummed in acknowledgement of Andy’s words, leaning into the touch of Andy’s hand on her head, “so stupid,” she repeated, though her tone of voice was more mocking than anything.
“You hate the idea of retiring. You love fashion and you love Runway, I don’t need to repeat those things back to you for you to know they’re true.”
Miranda nodded her head, agreeing with what Andy was saying, but it was clear that the woman wasn’t entirely listening to her nonsense. “Andréa, I need to get back to work.” She was gentle with her words, speaking to her in a way that she only reserved for the twins.
She sighed dramatically, upset that she had to leave, but she still understood why she had to. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone now.” Andy placed a loving kiss on Miranda’s forehead before making her exit.
One thing Miranda always did before bed was braid Andy’s hair, ensuring that it didn’t get tangled the next morning. And in the morning she would brush it through, it was effective in keeping Andy’s hair nice and healthy and was a habit the two had settled into every night, a comforting activity for both parties. Miranda got to do something with her hands and Andy was able to enjoy her playing with her hair.
It was often a silent activity, only accompanied by sound if Miranda was recalling details of her work day and complaining about them, which Andy found herself enjoying more and more.
Miranda often sat on the bed while Andy sat on the floor in front of her, Miranda found it easier to braid the other woman’s hair when she herself was elevated. In recent years she’s noticed Andy getting surprisingly taller, either that or Miranda was getting surprisingly shorter. Either way, it made the process easier with the added height from the mattress.
So it wasn’t strange when they found themselves falling back into the same habit that very night, Miranda’s skilled hands braiding Andy’s long, brown hair in calculated and practiced moves. But this time, Andy wanted to switch it up a bit.
She turned her body fully to face Miranda, craning her neck up at her. “Can I braid your hair tonight?” She asked with an inviting smile on her face, though she didn’t expect a “yes” to come from her.
When Miranda was younger, specifically when she was in her early 20s, she had long, honey-blonde hair - though it was naturally orange but she soon found she disliked the color, she wanted something that didn’t remind her of her past. So, she bleached and grew it out shortly after changing her name.
Her hair reached her mid-back but she had cut it back to its original length when it grew out. She hated the stress of having to take care of it and she utterly despised how “cute” it made her feel. She wanted to feel feminine and powerful, and she felt as if her hair for a long time had ruined that illusion. When it finally started greying she felt a sense of relief, like people would finally begin to take her more seriously if she looked more mature.
Andy knew that if she asked to braid her hair she’d most likely say “no,” she knew it made her feel childish, but regardless Andy still wanted to shoot her shot. If Miranda was going to grow out her hair anyways she might as well take care of it the same way she took care of Andy’s hair.
Miranda appeared deep in thought, contemplating whether or not she should say “yes” to Andy’s question. She took a deep sigh before throwing in the towel, “I suppose you can braid my hair, yes.”
A bright smile tugged at the corners of Andy’s lips as she practically shot up from where she was sitting in immense joy. She sat behind Miranda, her extra height not warranting Miranda sitting on the floor - it’s not like she would’ve gotten off of the bed anyways - handling her hair with deep care as she put her snow white locks in two gorgeous braids with as much practiced care as Miranda.
She pressed her lips against Miranda’s cheek once she was finished. “There we go, you look beautiful.”
“Don’t I always look beautiful?” She raised an eyebrow.
Andy rolled her eyes in response. “You get what I mean, Miranda.” She hugged her tightly from behind before the two finally settled into bed together, Miranda laying on top of Andy with her face nuzzled in the crook of her neck.
Comfortable silence filled the dark room.
Andy pressed another gentle kiss, this time the kiss being drowned in Miranda’s hair. “Hey, Miranda, it’d be nice if we visited Italy. Just the two of us,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if the older woman was awake or not, but she didn’t want to risk waking her up if she was already asleep.
After a moment of no response Miranda finally spoke up, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Miranda did in fact see what she could do about Andy’s request. The two women sat next to each other on the hardwood flooring in the townhouse, each packing their own clothes into their suitcases.
“You know, you don’t need that many suitcases, Miranda.”
“I quite like being prepared, unlike someone.” She glanced over to Andrea’s single suitcase lying on the ground in front of her.
She scoffed as she gently folded a luxury garment into a perfect square. “You’re gonna make me carry your bags anyways, I might as well pack light for my own sake.”
In response, Miranda pursed her lips, choosing not to waste her words on Andy. A gentle quietness filled the space. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable or unfamiliar, it was shared and welcomed by them, with the two simply enjoying each other’s company.
Miranda glanced over at Andy, she had gotten up to rummage through their shared closet - something Andy had begged Miranda for. Miranda wasn’t too keen on sharing her precious closet space with someone else, even if that “someone else” was Andy, but she eventually caved in to Andy’s whining.
Andy ventured back out of the closet with a few articles of clothing she was seemingly debating on packing within her suitcase.
“Andréa, in the last five minutes all I’ve seen you pull out is Chanel.”
Andy mindlessly shrugged her shoulders, sitting down beside Miranda as she practically ignored her.
“Move over.” She fanned her hand, gesturing for Andy to move as Miranda began to replace Andy’s position in front of her suitcase. She rummaged around, picking up her neatly folded clothes and inspecting them. “They’re all Chanel, and I thought I was the older one here…” She gave Andy a judgmental look before giving Andy her spot back.
Her mouth was agape. “Hey! I like Chanel!” Andy said defensively before looking over into Miranda’s suitcase. “Says the girl who’s only bringing Prada!” She spoke in an accusatory tone.
“Name more than ten luxury fashion brands. Go ahead.”
Andy groaned dramatically. “No, that’s not the point, Miranda.”
“Do it,” she spoke in a low and dangerous tone, challenging Andy, though she already knew the outcome.
Defeated, Andy threw her hands in the air. “Gosh, fine, you win!”
“I feel bad for making you plan everything.” Andy folded her arms over the middle of her body, the two of them standing comfortably in their five star hotel room stationed in Italy.
Miranda unlocked and opened the door to their balcony, letting the cool air flow into the space they occupied, the vast city of Rome continuously moving outside of the small confines of their hotel room. “Don’t feel bad. You’ve seemed stressed from all the work I put on you, I think you deserve a break.” She spoke softly and slightly more high pitched, the tone of voice that always brought butterflies to Andy’s stomach.
Andy smiled cheekily, letting out a puff of air that sounded almost like a laugh. “I’m fine. If anything, you deserve a break.” She stood behind Miranda, rubbing her hands back and forth around the circumference of Miranda’s hips. “Thank you, for all of this.”
Miranda pressed a loving kiss to Andy’s cheek, leaning into her touch, her hair tickling Andy’s cheek.
“Now, I think it’d be best if we got out of this hotel room in favor of a walk around Rome, what do you think?”
“I think that’s a splendid idea.” A faint smile crossed Miranda’s face, barely even visible, but to Andy it was almost like she was grinning from ear to ear.
Andy and Miranda walked side by side, their heels clicking unevenly against the cobblestone flooring of Rome, the bright and blazing sun lit up everything in its path, hitting the stone floor with immeasurable heat.
The idea of needing to fill the space they occupied with noise never crossed their mind, the relaxing atmosphere and each other was all they needed. Their walk was, for the most part, silent. With everyone around them moving with their own purpose and reasons, the city felt lively, each individual's lives playing out right before their eyes like a never ending film.
The historical architecture everywhere they went brought a gasp out of the two every time their eyes laid upon it - well, it brought a gasp out of Andy every time, Miranda simply admired the art (and Andy) quietly.
“Are you getting hungry yet?” Andy asked.
It took a few seconds for Miranda to respond and register Andy’s words in her mind, something Andy noticed about Miranda was how quickly she forgot about her own needs. Often being too lost in her thoughts, or more commonly, work, to even think about her hunger or wellbeing. “I suppose I am starting to get hungry,” she finally responded.
“How about we try a classic pizza? Y’know, get it from its home town.”
“Would you like to eat back at the hotel?”
Andy simply nodded her head at the question before the couple strolled into the nearest restaurant. She dug her hand inside of her large purse, evidently searching for something.
Miranda scoffed. “Please tell me you’re not bringing out that enormous text book.”
See, Andy had thought it’d be a spectacular idea if she were to bring something to help her with understanding the Italian language. Though she had her many gripes about simply downloading an app to help translate words for her, so she decided to bring a book to help her with learning it manually instead, much to Miranda’s dismay.
“Why? What’s wrong with it-” She turned her head to look at Miranda, only to find out she was hardly even next to her, standing a whopping six feet away from Andy. “Why’re all of the way over there?!” Andy exclaimed.
“Perhaps I would enjoy standing next to you if you didn’t have that big ass book in your hand.” She rolled her eyes, extremely annoyed by Andy’s antics.
“Wow,” Andy said snarkily, “my book upsets you so much to the point of cursing.”
“You’re acting as if cursing is a crime.”
“For you it is! you know what, I don’t even care. How about you go order for us since you’re so well versed in Italian.” She took a chapter out of Miranda’s book and rolled her eyes.
Without a word Miranda did as she was told and ordered for the both of them. It wasn’t long before they were given their pizza in a simple to-go box.
“It’s a lot smaller than I expected it to be.” Andy rummaged in the box, finding one small pizza with many vegetable toppings - Miranda’s favorite.
“That’s because pizzas in Italy aren’t the size of two fat ass racoons, they’re meant to be eaten by one person.”
Andy knew Miranda wasn’t exactly planning on eating a whole pizza by herself, no matter the size, so it naturally didn’t bother her that she only ordered one while being fully aware of the portion size.
“Your attitude is so nasty today.” She furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head, though she was hardly angry. Far from it, actually. It was quite common for the two to banter like this, it only ever made their relationship stronger. Nigel often called them an old married couple because of their quarrels, much to the couple's dismay.
The two began walking back to the hotel, both eager to finally eat a real meal after their long day of traveling. Miranda inhaled a sharp breath through her mouth as she stopped abruptly.
Andy stopped alongside her. “What is it?” She asked, concerned.
“Nothing, it’s just…” she trailed off, seemingly focusing intently on the noise around her, “I believe one of the restaurants is playing Crimson and Clover.”
Back at the townhouse whenever they’d cook together the two would put music on. It was something that simply drowned out the noise of oil splashing, or vegetables being cut on a cutting board. Though it often ended in Andy singing her heart out, leaving Miranda to prepare their meal, or with the couple dancing to the soundwaves of the music moving gracefully through the air. A song that they often danced to was Crimson and Clover, one of Miranda’s personal favorites that has over time grown on Andy as well.
“Would you like to make a fool of ourselves in front of everyone?” Andy held her hand out, palm facing the sky, in front of Miranda for her to hold onto.
“I’m not the one with two left feet.” She took hold of Andy’s hand, placing a passionate kiss on it before wrapping her arms around Andy’s neck loosely, unintentionally bringing Andy’s face closer to hers. “But we might as well further the narrative that American foreigners are weird.”
“Ha ha,” she said sarcastically, “very funny.” Andy placed both her hands on either side of Miranda’s hips, her thumbs rubbing Miranda’s skin in back and forth motions through the fabric of her clothes.
The couple danced in the sun, mainly spinning around in small circles as they kept the other close to them. But in their hearts it still counted as dancing. It at least kept Andy from tripping over her own feet and crashing to the floor like she often did back at home.
The wind blew gently through Miranda’s hair, truly expressing how long her hair has gotten over the course of her and Andy’s relationship. “Are you going to cut it?” Andy asked, her eyes lost in the beauty that is Miranda.
Miranda thought long and hard before replying with a simple, “No.”
They sat together on the balcony, enjoying their view of Rome. Everyday with Miranda felt like a new story waiting to be told to Andy, it was a new experience that she was dying to feel all around her. She convinced herself that she just couldn’t put into words how happy Miranda made her, and maybe she was right, that there are no words in the English nor Italian dictionary to explain and describe the immense love she felt for the woman sitting beside her on this very day-.
“-and then Nigel goes on to say-”
“Andréa,” Miranda began, swiftly cutting Andy off. “I am thinking about retiring. Well, I suppose I’m not entirely thinking about it anymore, my decision is almost made up.” Miranda paused before starting back again, “I’m going to retire soon.” She was quiet, like a little mouse that felt as if this decision was too big for them to take on.
Andy felt the entire room shift from underneath her. Miranda, retiring? Those two simple words made no sense in her mind, they might as well be in a completely different language altogether. The Miranda Andy knew would work until she died, Runway and fashion as a whole was her entire life. How could she just throw it all away?
“Wha- what?” A nervous laugh left Andy’s lips, an unsure smile painting her face. “That’s such a stupid joke Miranda, I know you can do better than that. Anyways, back to what I was saying, Nigel-”
“No, Andréa, I’m not joking.” Her voice was cold… Oddly cold. It was something Andy hadn’t heard in a while, at least, not directed towards her. With that sentence alone Andy felt as if she were sent back to her early days as Miranda’s assistant, carrying out orders from her ice queen of a boss.
“What do you mean you’re not joking? Miranda, do you hear yourself?” Her volume began to rise with the anger growing underneath her skin. She didn’t know why Miranda’s choice to retire had such a personal impact on her, at the end of the day it wasn’t her life.
“I hear myself more clearly than you do.”
“Miranda, this is ridiculous. You know that, right?! Is that why you’ve been growing out your hair?”
She pursed her lips in irritation. “My hair has nothing to do with my job.”
“Oh really?! Because you’re always the first to say one’s appearance shows you everything you need to know about them! I cannot believe some fuckass news article was able to see that before I could, oh my God!”
“Andréa, you’re acting like a toddler. Quit throwing your tantrum.”
“Stop talking to me like a child - like I’m one of your lesser than employees. I’m not your fucking feature’s editor right now, I’m your fucking wife!”
“You’re not acting like my wife right now. My wife would be supportive of my decision to retire.”
“Well, your wife isn’t very happy that you didn’t talk to her about this first! Maybe I’d be a little more supportive if you didn’t just drop a catastrophic bomb on me, seriously! I feel like fucking Hiroshima right now.” Andy stood up from her seat, making her way to the balcony door.
“Where are you going?” Miranda stood up after her, but hesitated to follow behind Andy.
“Just leave me alone for a bit, I need to collect my thoughts about this whole thing.” Andy had stopped yelling, but there was a potent exasperation that lingered in her words.
She left Miranda’s side for the bathroom. She had no interest in staying in the same cooped up hotel room with Miranda, and yet walking through the streets of a foreign country was even less desirable so she stuck with the bathroom.
She stripped each article of clothing off of her, letting it fall to the floor with a barely audible plop. Quickly after, she stepped into the shower, allowing the scorching hot water to hit her skin, the blood flowed through her veins, her skin becoming visibly a soft red because of it.
She couldn’t believe Miranda was throwing away her career, a lifetime of hard work and sacrifices thrown to the side for retirement. In Andy’s mind she had always seen Miranda working tirelessly behind that glass desk of hers, the view of New York City behind her in all its glory. It was a vision Andy had engraved in her mind for years. The small thought that someone else may take over and ruin what Miranda spent so many years perfecting was baffling to her. She hated it.
Andy let the water run through her brown curls, briefly washing away a small layer of whatever dirt and grime she might’ve picked up throughout her day. She was reminded of Miranda’s hair, the way the silver glimmered in the sunlight, how fluffy it looked when fully dry, how she had spent years cutting it into a perfect pixie only to grow it out in the end. Miranda was a forever changing human being. Always growing, always adapting, always morphing into something new.
She knew it was hardly close to being an easy choice for Miranda. It must’ve been on her mind for quite some time leading up to this moment. Andy knew it wasn’t fair to blow up in her face, after all, it wasn’t up to Andy if Miranda retired or not. It was Miranda’s decision and Miranda’s decision alone. Besides, Miranda was correct, Andy wasn’t being a very supportive wife, the wife that she had promised to be for Miranda. Her biggest fear was ending up like one of Miranda’s previous husbands, she wanted to turn her love life over, and for the better.
If retiring meant that Miranda was happy then Andy supposed she should be happy with that decision as well.
Andy thoroughly washed herself clean before stepping out of the shower, one foot in front of the other, her bare feet pressed against the cold tiled floor. She gently pat herself down, the towel absorbing each water droplet that rested atop of her skin. Andy grabbed the complimentary bathrobe, folding it around herself like how she had seen Miranda do countless times with her own assortment of robes.
She made her way outside of the bathroom and back to the balcony where Miranda sat quietly. “Hey,” she said, not expecting her voice to be so hushed this time around.
She leaned down ever so slightly, their height difference being more apparent now that Miranda was sitting down, and she wrapped her arms around the older woman. Placing an array of kisses along her head, cheek, and neck.
“Did I let you down?” Miranda asked, her voice uncharacteristically shaky, with her eyes glued to the scenery around her, not daring to look at Andy.
“No, no. Of course not, my love.” She tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. “Will you look at me?”
Miranda hesitantly turned her head, her eyes, red and puffy, almost like she had been crying, staring into Andy’s brown ones.
Andy knelt down in front of her, her hands holding onto Miranda’s tightly. “Were you crying?”
“Why would I cry over something as miniscule as that?” Miranda forced out a laugh, willing herself to appear unaffected by Andy’s words.
“Miranda,” Andy said sternly.
Miranda bit her lip, once again staring off into the distance, not being able to look Andy in the eyes. “I don’t want to disappoint you. Your opinion means…” she trailed off, collecting her words, “so much to me. It truly is unfathomable how much you mean to me, Andréa.”
Andy placed an assortment of kisses on the back of Miranda’s hand. “You didn’t disappoint me, you could never disappoint me.”
Miranda inhaled and exhaled a deep, shaky breath. “I’m unsure if I’m making the right decision. The last thing I want to do is let you down, and I feel like I’m doing just that by retiring.”
Andy stood up, her warm hands cupping Miranda’s cheeks, placing a loving kiss on Miranda’s dusty pink lips. “You’re not letting me down and I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.
“I should’ve…” Miranda’s voice broke before she tried to quickly collect herself, “I should’ve uhm… told you earlier. I’m sorry, Andréa.”
A bittersweet smile grew on Andy’s face. “Thank you for apologizing, and I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that. I guess I just… I don’t know, I just don’t think anyone else can run Runway as well as you have for the past however many years…”
“I think I know someone who could run it well, if not better than I ever had.” Miranda smiled brightly, the first smile Andy’s seen from her since they got back to the hotel.
Andy gasped dramatically. “Is it Nigel?!” She screamed excitedly.
A small snort escaped Miranda’s mouth, laughing at Andy’s sudden enthusiasm. “No, I’ve spoken with him on multiple occasions. He despises the idea of becoming editor-in-chief, at least becoming the editor-in-chief of Runway.”
“If it’s not Nigel then who is it?”
Miranda tapped Andy’s nose gently, Miranda’s smile never leaving her face. “You.”