Swathy and Sky -

What The Devil Wears Prada 2 Does Right?

Swathy · May 4, 2026 · Leave a Comment

Having said that I didn’t enjoy the movie, The Devil Wears Prada 2 nails a few pertinent points which demand deeper reflection.

Again, the post has spoilers so please proceed at your discretion.

Rise of AI and Loss of Creativity

Nigel laments the loss of his precious photoshoot budgets. Granted his vision was extraordinarily opulent with the top models, couture outfits, luxury accessories which are no longer relevant in the current landscape of AI. These images are already on small screens commanding an attention span of 5s at most, why waste so much money on the art when AI can produce the same on a budget of pennies.

Andy is reduced to churning out tabloid fodder in the name of features to feed the fickle audience. Turns out, a consultant suggests removing the features department altogether and using AI instead. The devaluation of journalism is a core theme in the movie.

Paper to Screen

Runway is no longer the enigma it used to be – revered and worshipped, it is now yet another digital publication thanks to the changing landscape. However, Miranda still insists on physical copies for everything including the legendary “book” to finalize the monthly prints.

Consumer Behavior

Emily notes this beautifully – earlier spending $200 was a luxury purchase and now people want to be seen with $3000 bags on a grocery outing. Spending capacity of the upper middle class has seen a massive increase in the last two decades and so is the shift noted in consumer behavior.

Changing Work Culture

Although Miranda’s struggle to hang her own coat or travelling economy provides comic relief, what hits the hardest is her insecurity for her own job. She has been a force of nature running Runway single handedly for so many years. In the last movie, she had all cards in her hand and she commanded the game.

Yet, after two decades, her future lies in the whim of an old man who doesn’t understand what she or Runway represent. The promotion which should have been given to her served on a plate is being dangled in front of her as a trick.

The Cost of Success

Miranda finally speaks about all that she has lost in the pursuit of her ambition. She acknowledges and wants Andy to document these losses as part of her story to serve as a reminder that every choice has a cost associated with it, the one which affects the entire ecosystem around you.

Showing Up.

Swathy · April 14, 2026 · Leave a Comment

Being a obsessive perfectionist when it comes to work quality, I have always impeded my own growth. Although I have been able to do what was required, I have never successfully completed something I wanted to build.

You start and you polish your craft every single day and gradually, your skill starts to shine, it is never perfect on day 1. Prodigies are rare, masters are often created through perseverance, hard work and showing up day after day irrespective of their situations and environment.

Everyone is aware of the maxim, the problem lies in giving yourself the permission to show the raw and imperfect version of yourself to the world. And, slowly, you improve and one day the world beholds the master.

We often admire athletes, leaders and industrialists, how often do we know the Sachin before became Tendulkar or the Mark before facebook overtook the world. Yes, there is nepotism and there is being born into the legacy but every enterprise starts with someone who had larger than life dreams and they worked towards them actively.

How their circumstances contribute to their growth is a different story but a stubborn human always manages to bend the universe to his will.

Here I am, showing up for myself after years of procrastination, trials, failures and insecurity, all enmeshed together. This time I am here for the long run.

Love, Swathy and Sky!

A love letter to Sky

Swathy · July 21, 2025 · Leave a Comment

Sky, birthday, gotcha day, pet parenting, swathy and sky

Four years ago, on this day, you didn’t prance into my life but quietly laid a claim on my soul. If there was ever a miracle in my life, it was you and how you came to be. It is a story how destiny brought us together on a rainy day to save each other.

I was on my way back home from seeing other puppies and your rescuer called me asking for help. It was raining pins and needles and you and your siblings had no shelter. The only selfish reason I did my best to help out was a “what if”. What if my baby is in danger?

I never birthed you but you still came from me, may be we share the same star dust. We may not share a DNA but you are a mirror to me. You show me how scared I am, you show me how stubborn and irrational I can be, you show me my anxiety and you remind me to chuck the future, to live in the now. The moment I see you, something inside me awakens; when I touch you, time slows down. You do not speak, yet I understand everything you think. May be this is what they call “the soul remembering”.

I had already stopped rebelling way before you came, I had quieted down, learned to choose my battles; but you showed me how impatient and short tempered I was, how I was not giving space to myself, how I was not pausing and resting, what I so desperately needed. You came and you made everything alright. Four years ago, I made the mistake of not accepting you, not showering you with love and not allowing you in my space. You became a dog roaming in the house, unable to rest because of a lack of access, to a dog who shares my bed and blankets. Now, I don’t care if my bed is full of fur and dander yet others are still not allowed to keep their unwashed feet on it.

I could never write letters of such intimacy earlier, even now I am struggling with words, putting them out to the world comes with the danger of judgement, self more than others. Yet, I profess my undying devotion to you. You are my God, you are my devil, you became my shadow. You gave me a purpose and a structure even though I never gave you a life better. The bad parent guilt is stronger.

I still recall those excruciating moments you were scared and hiding under the bed, I felt so helpless. A thousand times and more I have apologized since, and couldn’t be sorrier. That day I understood the anger and the helplessness of a parent, why they resort to abuse and how futile it can be. The child doesn’t understand anything else but the cold danger and the warmth of safety.

I was supposed to be your umbrella, I became the stick. I have atoned for my sins and yet punish myself. Now, when I lose my patience, I take a pause and carry you gently. Thank you for making me the adult I was supposed to be, an adult I missed being.