Chapter Text
Deuxmoi - Instagram
July 17, 2026 7:17pm ET
Image alt-text:
Image of Miranda Priestly dressed in Sa Su Phi suit jacket and trousers. Next to her: Andy Sachs in a Phoebe Philo tee and Nili Lotan pants. Both in Prada pumps. Carousel of multiple images of the two women walking down 6th Avenue and outside Bar Rocco.
deuxmoi: Is there a new power couple in the city that never sleeps? Miranda Priestly, current overlord of content for Elias-Clarke--will there be a rebrand post-Sasha Barnes takeover? We can only hope--struts in time with recent-ish hire Andy Sachs, features editor of Runway. Word on the street is that Sachs used to work hand in hand (or hand in something) with Priestly back in the aughts and was only too eager to come back to spend some time with the Devil who started her career. These two look awfully cozy. And hot. And very, very into each other. Has this been going on all this time without Page Six noticing? And more importantly, is this why all those Mr. Priestlys keep dropping like flies? As Cindy Adams used to say, You heard it here first, kids.
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TMZ: EXCLUSIVE - Website
July 17, 2026 8:33pm ET
First image Red banner reads: Girlfriends, not Girl Friends
Image alt-text:
Miranda Priestly in Dries Van Noten jacket with Max Mara wide-leg pants, JAQUEMUS red pumps. Andy Sachs in Ralph Lauren suede blazer, vintage 501 Levis and Saint Laurent boots. Location: Bryant Park, 42nd Street.
Babes of Broadway: Queen of Fashion Steps OUT with her Crowned Princess
Notoriously difficult fashionista Miranda Priestly has made an old-school trend new again: she’s got a much younger babe at her side now that she’s conquered content after the regime change at Elias-Clarke. This is far from the first time these two have been photographed together, but it’s the first since we’ve learned the pair has been going at it hot and heavy behind the glass walls of Runway’s 19th floor.
Second image Red banner reads: Which One is the Daddy?
Image alt-text:
Miranda Priestly in Lanvin Coat, Sa Su Phi Blazer and skirt, Stuart Weiztman shoes. Bag by Celine. Andy Sachs in Ulla Johnson jumpsuit, Saint Laurent slides. Location: W 54th & 5th.
Priestly, 75, has been ruling Runway with an iron fist for over thirty years, while Sachs, 45, bid the fashion world adieu as a 20-something, only to return to Priestly’s side last year after the death of E-C Icon Irving Ravitz. Since then, they’ve rarely been seen apart. Never let it be said that we don’t stan an age-gap romance.
COMMENTS:
Ursas1888aka: they’re both the daddy and the mommy
geniusblabber: id f**k them 2 UP
caveman1: who are these people
CoolMama: @caveman1 🙄 get off this site
merrrCy: they fuckin
itsFASHUN: no way this is a real thing. don’t they just work together?
praisekinky: i’ve seen it. it’s real and it’s so beautiful i could cryyy
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PAGE SIX - Website
July 17, 2026 9:25pm ET
MIRANDY: Inside a Love Story Twenty Years in the Making
We’ve kept the romance of the year under wraps as a favor to the new head of Elias-Clarke (Sasha, call us, we love you) but now that the word is out, we can all celebrate the couple of the century: Miranda Priestly and Andy (or Andreeea, as Miranda calls her at the office) Sachs. Since celebrated journalist Andy made her first personal appearance at Miranda’s Hamptons spring fete--a nearly impossible-to-come-by invite unless you’re family, friend, or cultural elite--we’ve been watching these two romance their way across the world. Check out this collection of some recent (and not-so-recent) pics of this delicious pair side by side. Age ain’t nothing but a number, ladies!
CAROUSEL: Image alt-text: Miranda Priestly and Andy Sachs wearing notable designers in the following locations:
Milan: Chanel, Armani. Bags: Prada, Valentino.
Hamptons: Gabriella Hearst, Ralph Lauren. Bucket hat: no info.
New York: Balenciaga, Gautier. Bag: archival Coach.
Connecticut: Miu Miu (vintage), Tom Ford. Bags: both by Fendi.
Paris (2006): Prada, Louis Vuitton.
New York (2006): Bill Blass (vintage), Chanel.
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Andy’s head was jammed under the pillow when her phone fell off the nightstand with a couple of muffled thuds. The drop itself didn’t completely wake her, but the continued vibrations traveled up through the bedframe since the phone’s case was leaning against the wooden post. “Leave me alone,” she mumbled, but the vibrations didn't cease and she finally threw the pillow to the empty side of the bed. “Sunday morning is off limits, Miranda,” she said under her breath as she reached for the battered phone. The military-grade case had saved her ass more times than she could count.
After unlocking the device, her eyes widened. 47 missed messages. 13 missed calls. And this was all before her DO NOT DISTURB shutting off had opened the floodgates with so much buzzing that her phone had moved six inches across the nightstand. She hoped no one was dead. The only people who could get through her quiet settings were her mom, her dad, and Miranda. None of those three had called, from what she could tell.
The message blaring at the top of her notifications:
BEST FRIEND: Have you been lying to me all this time? We shared carbs!
“What the hell?” she said before squinting at the tiny clock in the upper corner of her phone. 7:04am. It was, as far as she could tell, still Sunday morning, which was supposed to be her day off. Yesterday had been well worth the effort of holing up at Miranda’s with Nigel to put most of Andy’s first September issue to bed. Ad space, features, interviews, photo spreads, and the letter from the editor--sort of a one-two punch penned by both Miranda and Nigel--were set to go for the printer. Today they had more flexibility than Andy recalled from the old days when a hundred percent of the content had to be completely locked months and months in advance, but that didn’t mean they didn’t still need to have the printed materials arranged and approved on time.
She sat up against the headboard, shoving the pillows behind her lower back to get comfortable. After throwing her earplugs and eyemask in the direction of the nightstand, she opened her texts to a veritable waterfall of question marks. Pinned to the top of the messages was Lily’s:
LILS: Is this why you didn’t want to go out with that guy who gutted the apartment you’re currently living in?
Below the text was the preview for a link to Page Six. The title:
An Insider’s Look at Miranda Priestly and Andy Sachs’ Two Decade Love Affair
“Uh…” She clicked the link and immediately dialed Lily, putting the sound on speaker as the page loaded. The line didn’t even finish ringing once before Lily picked up.
“Girl,” Lily said. “Girl! I need to know what is happening!”
“Lily, I have no idea what is happening. What the--okay, let me read this--” Andy started skimming the article, her brow furrowing more deeply the further down she got. When she hit the carousel of images, she flicked through the set of photos, which really were all of herself and Miranda walking next to one another. But they were cropped in closely; in most if not all of those wider shots, Andy was pretty sure they were surrounded by other people. Colleagues, designers, actors, writers--not a single shot existed with just the two of them in any sort of romantic scenario. Well, okay, all of the scenarios and locations could generally have been considered romantic. But technically, it was all business.
She flicked back to the shot of the two of them in Milan, when Miranda was wearing that Chanel jacket. Her hair was slicked back. She wore her Jimmy Choo sunglasses. Her head was cocked to the side just so.
The backs of Andy’s thighs tingled.
“Um, Lily, am I going to open 46 more texts asking how long Miranda and I have been in some sort of clandestine relationship? Because this article reads like Miranda and I are, in actuality, in some sort of clandestine relationship, but the last I checked, we’ve never even hugged.” Andy glanced at the ceiling. Maybe that wasn’t entirely true. She sort of almost hugged Miranda, that one time after everything had settled with Sasha and the contract was signed for the purchase of Elias-Clarke. But it was a half hug, and Miranda had shuddered in her almost-embrace so violently that Andy had immediately stepped back, hands out in defensive apology for invading her space. But even from those few seconds, she could recall the scent of Miranda’s perfume, her hair products, her skin. She smelled good. And she’d felt good, even though both her arms hadn’t made it fully around her shoulders. “We’re not together. Not dating, not kissing, not fucking.”
Andy flicked through the gallery again, zooming in on the shot of Miranda in the Hamptons, when she’d stained Nigel’s Gabriela Hearst dress and Miranda had been wearing sneakers, for heaven’s sake. They were Ralph Lauren, but still. Sneakers! In all the years she’d known her, Andy had never thought the word cute when she saw Miranda. Stunning. Exceptional. Scary. Beautiful. So many more adjectives. But that day, she thought, cute.
“Andy!” Lily repeated.
“Oh, sorry, what?”
“I said you sound like you’re bummed that none of this dreck is true.”
There was a long silence.
“I mean--”
“Honey, please tell me you haven’t been waiting all this time to get married because you’ve been waiting for Miranda to not be married anymore.”
“No! That’s ridiculous. And totally unrealistic. I mean, I barely thought of her between the time I left Runway and, I don’t know, when I started this job.”
Again, silence.
“And Miranda had four whole years when she wasn’t married, between Stephen and that other guy, and then the last three years she’s been si--”
“Andy. I have two questions. Are you ready?”
Andy turned her phone screen off to concentrate. “Okay, ready.”
“I want total honesty here.”
“Yep. Shoot.”
Andy could hear the deep breath Lily took. “Are you and Miranda in a romantic relationship, right now?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Second question: do you wish you were?”
Andy’s mouth opened, and the words that’s ridiculous, of course not would just not come out. She searched her heart, which did not take long.
“I wouldn’t hate it,” Andy finally admitted. The phone in her hand continued to buzz with notifications, but there was silence from Lily.
“Well, I guess this is going to either be some sort of kick in the pants for you or the door will close forever, right? I mean, if Miranda goes nuclear winter, you’ll know it’s never going to happen.”
“Lily, it’s never going to happen anyway. Miranda is--well, Miranda. And I’m okay with that. I just care about her as a friend and colleague, that’s it. It doesn’t really matter if we’re never closer than we are right now. I’d--” She held the words back. I’d do anything for her. “I’d be fine. I will be fine.”
Lily laughed almost to herself.
“What?” Andy asked.
“Hon, remember when your rant went viral last year, at the awards thing?”
Andy remembered very clearly. She’d had to turn off all her notifications for a day or two, and she’d deleted TikTok for a month. She’d killed her X account altogether (which she’d been meaning to do, but to be fair, she had a decent amount of reach when it came to sharing her articles). “Uh-huh.”
“This is going to obliterate that.” Lily chuckled. “The ladies are losing their shit, FYI. Every lesbian influencer has pounced.”
Andy frowned. “Do you follow a lot of lesbian influencers?”
“I do now,” Lily said. “Read your texts and whatnot. Pop over for a drink tonight if you’re up for it.”
“Thanks, Lily. I might need you to keep me sane if this gets crazier.”
“I’ll be ready.”
She hung up and sighed, afraid to see what was waiting for her.
~~~💞~~~
The first thing Andy did after scanning her texts, DMs, and voicemails was to contact the head of PR, who was one of the calls she’d missed the earliest. Clarissa had also reached out to Miranda, who had not yet replied, so Andy had no idea what she was thinking. “Have you talked to Sasha?” Andy asked.
“She’s fine. She’s thrilled, actually.”
Andy replied, “Really?” She sipped her coffee and winced. She searched the counter for some shelf-stable creamer she was sure she’d stashed after her most recent late-night diner visit with Emily. With the week she’d had and no visits to her favorite bodega, there was no milk in the fridge. Luckily, she found the tiny plastic container shoved in the zipper pocket of her messenger bag.
“Sure. She wasn’t surprised and said you could release whatever statement you were comfortable with, if you wanted to say anything at all. I’d just make sure to check in with HR tomorrow and provide a status so everything’s above board. Miranda’s been, um, flagged for all sorts of negative things over the years, as I’m sure you’re aware. But nobody’s going to worry about her playing favorites with you. I think her focus on you has gone a long way in making people a lot more relaxed at the office, from a cultural perspective. Everyone finally sees her as human.”
“Um, what?” Andy croaked.
“Oh, yeah. Miranda’s much less problematic, and the whole team is grateful. And since technically you report to Nigel now that Miranda’s head of global, you should be in the clear as long as you disclose. We just want to avoid the direct report so there’s no concern with your annual review.” Clarissa cleared her throat and mumbled, “Not that Miranda ever completed reviews for any of her previous direct reports. Ah, anyway, Irv hired you and Miranda was pissed about it, which was already socialized throughout the company across all levels, executive and otherwise. You just happen to work perfectly together, both at home and at the office, I guess!”
The longer Clarissa went on, the wider Andy’s eyes got.
“You are sort of skirting the rules since if you receive a promotion, she’d have to approve it, but I am sure HR will make an exception in this case. Keeps everyone happy, especially them. Complaints about Miranda have dropped by more than half since you started the job. This whole thing has created the opposite of a hostile work environment.” There was a momentary shuffle of paper in the background. “Congrats, by the way. You two are gorgeous together! What does she think about this whole thing? Do you want to make a joint statement?”
Andy was so flummoxed she could barely find the words. “I have no idea what to say here.”
There was a pause. “Really? Is she out of town, or--?”
“Um, Clarissa, Miranda and I aren’t together. I appreciate the support, but the stories are based on nothing factual.”
Clarissa laughed. “Oh my gosh, wow,” she said, and laughed some more. “I’m so sorry I’m laughing. I just--I’m sure this is your private life and you want to keep it private, which is totally your business. But Andy, seriously. Have you seen yourselves? I’m surprised you got away with it this long without anyone picking it up. Don’t worry about it. When you’re ready to say something, I can help you craft--”
“No seriously, Clarissa. Miranda and I are not together. I’m not lying.”
There was a much longer pause this time. “Oh,” Clarissa said, and Andy swore it sounded like she was disappointed. “Really?” Yep, she was definitely sad about it.
“Really.”
“Oh, shoot. Well, damn. That’s--that’s really too bad, Andy. You two would make a really sweet couple.”
Andy put a hand to her forehead. She felt a headache coming on. She slugged down a little more coffee in the hopes of getting ahead of it. “I’ll put together something, but I need to run it by Miranda first. We should be aligned with the messaging.”
“Of course,” Clarissa replied, all business now. The friendly banter had just shut off with the reveal that there was no there there. “Text me when you’re ready.”
Andy spent a few minutes waffling over what to say, from a personal perspective and a consumer-facing one. Her instagram was primarily Runway articles, photos of cups of coffee, shots of her desk when it was littered with empty Diet Coke cans, and food. Posting a shot of herself and Miranda as colleagues could be an option, but that still seemed weird. Would Miranda even want to acknowledge what was going on?
Andy stared at Miranda’s contact number in her phone. She should call her. She knew she had to. Was Miranda embarrassed? Furious? So mortified that she’d deleted Andy’s number and blocked her? Had she fled the country?
Then Andy really started to worry. Maybe something had happened to Miranda. She could be in the hospital, or worse--
She dialed the number.
It rang, and rang, and rang, until finally, when Andy thought she would be hanging up in favor of not leaving a voicemail that Miranda would never listen to, Miranda picked up.
“What is it?” She sounded agitated. She also sounded like she wasn’t home. There was a lot of ambient noise in the background.
“Um--Miranda, is everything okay?”
“I’m at the emergency vet. Gio ate something--they think it’s a sock. I heard him vomiting at 5 this morning so I put him in the car and he threw up all over the backseat of the Mercedes. He wasn’t able to expel whatever it is, so he’s in with the vet now.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s horrible, Miranda I’m so sorry! Do they think he’ll be okay?”
“The vet says they see it often, but--” Miranda’s voice broke in a way that made Andy want to cry. “I don’t know. He should be out soon. They may have to do surgery if they can’t retrieve it with some sort of scope.”
“I’ll come to you, where are you?”
“Andrea, there’s no need--”
“I have to talk to you anyway, so it’s better to meet in person. Are you--have you gotten any strange messages or calls on your phone today?”
Andy waited for a few seconds; she thought Miranda might have been looking at her phone. “I suppose--I have a number of texts I haven’t even opened. I’ve been… I haven’t been able to concentrate.”
The tenderness of her voice, the fear that was so apparent, sent Andy to her bedroom to grab clean clothes. “Don’t bother. It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll deal with it when I get there. Where are you?” Andy repeated.
Miranda finally relented, and within five minutes, Andy was out the door.
~~~💞~~~