If Shakespeare Wrote “The Devil Wears Prada”
The Cerulean Sweater Monologue
I am proud to say it is written
all in iambic pentameter.
STYLIST
What think you? Tis a vexing thing, indeed.
To choose between two girdles so unlike.
MIRANDA
Mmm.
ANDY
Pish.
Miranda, girl with belt, and Nigel look.
MIRANDA
Is there a jester in our company?
ANDY
Nay, nay,
tis nothing… only that it seems to me
the girdles are but one and selfsame thing.
I know not yet so much about this stuff.
MIRANDA
This… this stuff.
NIGEL rolls his eyes
MIRANDA
O, O, I see,
thou think’st thou art untouch’d by this.
Cut to Andy pulling her sweater down awkwardly.
MIRANDA
You go thee to thy wardrobe and pluck out
That lumpish woolen garb of azure hue.
To self proclaim how high
thy judgement stands,
that all else matter bears no consequence.
Misprizing what thou put’st upon thy back.
But,
Thou knowest not
that woolen vest thou wear’st
Is not the hue of azure, nay, in sooth,
Tis neither turquoise, nor lapis, in truth
Tis very clear it is Cerulean
And in thy marvelous unwitting state,
Thou didst not know the silk parade of gowns
Cerulean in color, made by he,
Great Oscar, Lord of de la Renta house,
The second year of this millennium.
And then it was Yves Saint Laurent, twas not?
Who made the military livery
In that same shade of this cerulean.
Methinks a doublet is most needful here.
Nigel fetches a doublet.
And swiftly did cerulean appear
In more collections by eight clothiers.
Andy bites her lip, looks embarrassed.
Then down it went to the department stores
To lay among such other tragic frocks,
Whence thou didst fish thy vestment from that chest.
Cut to Andy looking back at Emily,
who shakes her head.
Yet, verily, that blue is worth a sum,
Beyond all count and made in gold and sweat.
And, Marry, ’tis a kind of comedy,
How thou dost think thyself apart from this.
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in thine eyes,
Yet here thou wear’st
the vestment that thou mock’st,
Determin’d by the ones within this room
First wrought and fashion’d
from a pile of stuff.