For the past two summers, I’ve interned in the fashion industry. I feel really privileged to have had those opportunities, and really loved both of my experiences wholeheartedly. But without fail, every time I’ve told someone where I’ve worked, I’ve gotten the same response:
“Oh my God, just like The Devil Wears Prada!”
Largely, that’s incorrect — mostly because it makes it sound like I worked for monstrous ice queens who constantly tore me down.
That never happened. My bosses were kind, generous and dedicated to my learning. I maintained a good work-life balance, I rarely ran personal errands for my bosses, and if there was ever a closet where I could just get clothing to wear, I never saw it.
But interning in fashion (... interning in general …) can be very hard. There were definitely days during my first internship that I thought, “Oh my god, I can’t do this anymore,” or, “This is way too much work.” I have a distinct memory of crying in a cab, on my way to a photoshoot, thinking I was surely going to have to quit or get fired.