The Devil Wears Prada, released in June 2006, is now the age of a grade-schooler: If it were a human, it would be a 10-year-old scuffling along in her mother’s Manolo Blahniks or seeing her future inheritance reflected in the subtle calfskin gleam of a Birkin bag. The picture was a hit upon its release—it was the 17th-highest grossing movie that year, which isn’t bad for a PG-13-rated comedy of little interest to ticket-buying teenage boys—and in the years since, it has become a comfort-food movie, the kind of thing women (and surely some men) like to watch over and over again. That’s partly because the appeal of watching put-upon underlings triumph over haughty higher-ups never loses its gloss.