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第32部分

时尚女魔头 穿普拉达的恶魔 英文原版-第32部分


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  necklaces; said every time I saw her; “I still don’t understand what 
  you wear to work。 It’sRunway magazine; for god’s sake。 Your clothes 
  are as cute as the next girl’s; Andy; but nothing you own isRunway 
  material。”

  I didn’t tell her that for the first few months I had risen extra 
  early with an intense determination to coaxRunway looks from my very 
  Banana Republic–heavy wardrobe。 I’d stood with my microwaved coffee 
  for nearly a half hour each morning; agonizing over boots and belts; 
  wool; and microfiber。 I’d change stockings five times until I 
  finally had the right color; only to berate myself that stockings of 
  any style or color wereso not OK 。 The heels on my shoes were always 
  too short; too stacked; too thick。 I didn’t own a single thing in 
  cashmere。 I had not yet heard of thongs (!) and therefore obsessed 
  maniacally over how to banish panty lines; themselves the focus of 
  many a Coffee…break critique。 No matter how many times I tried them 
  on; I couldn’t bring myself to wear a tube top to work。

  And so after three months; I surrendered。 I just got too tired。 
  Emotionally; physically; mentally; the daily wardrobe ordeal had 
  sapped me of all energy。 Until; that is; I relented on the 
  three…month anniversary of my first day。 It was a day like any other 
  as I stood with my yellow “I ? Providence” mug in one hand; the 
  other hand rifling through my Abercrombie favorites。Why fight it? I 
  asked myself。 Simply wearing their clothes wouldn’t necessarily mean 
  I was a total sellout; would it? And besides; the ments on my 
  current wardrobe were being more frequent and vicious; and I had 
  begun to wonder if my job was at risk。 I looked in the full…length 
  mirror and had to laugh: the girl in the Maidenform bra (ich!) and 
  cotton Jockey bikinis (double ich!) was trying to look the part 
  ofRunway ? Hah。 Not with this shit。 I was working atRunway magazine 
  for chrissake—simply putting on anything that wasn’t torn; frayed; 
  stained; or outgrown really wasn’t going to cut it anymore。 I pushed 
  aside my generic button…downs and ferreted out the tweedy Prada 
  skirt; black Prada turtleneck; and midcalf length Prada boots that 
  Jeffy had handed me one night while I waited for the Book。

  “What’s this?” I’d asked; unzipping the garment bag。

  “This; Andy; is what you should be wearing if you don’t want to get 
  fired。” He smiled; but he wouldn’t look me in the eye。

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Look; I just think you should know that your; uh; your look isn’t 
  really going over well with everyone around here。 Now; I know this 
  stuff gets expensive; but there’s ways around that。 I’ve got so much 
  stuff in the Closet that no one will notice if you need to; uh; 
  borrow some of it sometimes。” He made quote marks with his fingers 
  around the word “borrow。” “And; of course; you should be calling all 
  the PR people and getting your discount card for their designers。 I 
  only get thirty percent off; but since you work for Miranda; I’ll be 
  surprised if they charge you for anything。 There’s no reason for 
  this; uh;Gap thing you’ve got going on to continue。”

  I didn’t explain that wearing Nine West instead of Manolos or jeans 
  they sold in Macy’s junior department but not anywhere on Barney’s 
  eighth floor of couture denim heaven had been my own attempt to show 
  everyone that I wasn’t seduced by all thingsRunway 。 Instead; I just 
  nodded; noticing that he looked supremely unfortable having to 
  tell me that I was humiliating myself every day。 I wondered who had 
  put him up to it。 Emily? Or Miranda herself? Didn’t really matter 
  either way。 Hell; I’d already survived three full months—if wearing 
  a Prada turtleneck instead of one from Urban Outfitters was going to 
  help me survive the next nine; then so be it。 I decided I’d start 
  putting together a new and improved wardrobe immediately。

  I finally made it outside by 6:50A 。M。; actually feeling pretty damn 
  good about the way I looked。 The guy in the breakfast cart closest 
  to my apartment even whistled; and a woman stopped me before I’d 
  taken ten steps and told me she had been eyeing those boots for 
  three months now。I could get used to this; I thought。 Everyone’s got 
  to put something on every day; and this sure felt a hell of a lot 
  better than any of my stuff。 As was now habit; I walked to the 
  corner of Third Avenue and promptly hailed a cab and collapsed into 
  the warm backseat; too tired to be thankful that I didn’t have to 
  join the moners on the subway; and croaked; “Six…forty Madison。 
  Quickly; please。” The cabbie looked at me through the rearview—with 
  a touch of sympathy; I swear—and said; “Ah; yes。 Elias…Clark 
  building;” and we squealed left onto 97th Street and made another 
  left onto Lex; flying through the lights until 59th Street; where we 
  headed west to Madison。 After exactly six minutes; since there was 
  no traffic; we came to a screeching halt in front of the tall; thin; 
  sleek monolith that set such a fine physical example for so many of 
  its inhabitants。 The fare came to 6。40 like it did every single 
  morning; and I handed the cabbie a ten…dollar bill; like I did every 
  single morning。 “Keep the change;” I sang; feeling the same joy I 
  did every day when I saw their shock and Happiness。 “It’s onRunway 
  。”

  No problem there; that’s for sure。 It took all of a week on the job 
  to see that accounting wasn’t exactly a strong suit at Elias; not 
  even a real priority。 It was never a problem to write off ten…dollar 
  cab rides each and every day。 Another pany might wonder what gave 
  you the right to take a cab to work in the first place; Elias…Clark 
  wondered why you had deigned to take a cab when there was a car 
  service available。 Something about gypping the pany out of that 
  extra ten bucks each day—even though I don’t imagine anyone was 
  directly suffering from my overspending—made me feel a whole lot 
  better。 Some might have called it passive…aggressive rebellion。 I 
  called it getting even。

  I bolted from the cab; still happy to make someone else’s day; and 
  walked toward 640 Madison。 Although it was named the Elias…Clark 
  building; JS Bergman; one of the most prestigious banks in the city 
  (obviously); rented half of it。 We didn’t share anything with them; 
  not even an elevator bank; but it didn’t stop their rich bankers and 
  our fashion beauties from checking each other out in the lobby。

  “Hey; Andy。 What’s up? Long time; no see。” The voice behind me 
  sounded sheepish and unwilling; and I wondered why whoever it was 
  didn’t just leave me alone。

  I’d been mentally preparing myself to start the morning routine with 
  Eduardo when I’d heard my name; and I turned to see Benjamin; one of 
  Lily’s many ex…boyfriends from college; slumped against the building 
  just outside the entrance; not even seeming to notice that he was 
  sitting on the sidewalk。 He was only one of many of Lily’s guys; but 
  he’d been the first one she’d really; genuinely liked。 I hadn’t 
  spoken to good old Benji (he loathed being called that) since Lily 
  had walked in on him having sex with two girls from her a capella 
  singing group。 Walked right into his off…campus apartment and found 
  him sprawled out in his living room with one soprano and a 
  contralto; mousy girls who never did manage to look at Lily again。 
  I’d tried to convince her it was just a college prank; but she 
  didn’t buy it。 Cried for days; and made me promise not to tell 
  anyone what she’d discovered。 I didn’t have to tell anyone; though; 
  because he did—bragged to anyone who would listen about how he’d 
  “nailed two singing geeks;” as he’d put it; while “a third one 
  watched。” He’d made it sound as though Lily had been there the 
  entire time; agreeably perched on the couch and watching her big; 
  bad man go about being manly。 Lily had sworn to never let herself 
  really fall for another guy; and so far seemed to be keeping her 
  promise。 She slept with plenty of them; but she sure didn’t let them 
  stick around long enough to actually run the risk of discovering 
  something likable about them。

  I looked at him again and tried to find the old Benji in this guy’s 
  face。 He had been athletic and cute。 Just a normal guy。 But Bergman 
  had turned him into a shell of a human。 He was wearing an oversize; 
  wrinkled suit and looked as though he was hoping to suck crack 
  cocaine out of his Marlboro。 He seemed already overworked even 
  though it was only seven o’clock; and this made me feel better。 
  Because it was payback for being an asshole to Lily; and because I 
  wasn’t the only one dragging myself to work at such an obscene hour。

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