not a good film. the worst part is stanley tucci’s little speech about how brilliant the fashionistas are and how important their work is. he’d be aghast if he saw me in my dickies shorts and t-shirt. whatever. of course the guy takes the girl back in the end in spite of her prolonged self-subjugation. the ending allows her to have her cake and eat it too: she gets to climb the career ladder, she gets the admiration of the bitch boss (meryl streep), she sleeps with the charming nyc writer, and she’s still able to come running back to the moral, upright, and normal boyfriend. yay.