Three cheers for the "September Issue"

The highly anticipated documentary opens with Anna Wintour ruminating on just why it is that the fashion world, in all its glamour, often faces ridicule from the world at large: "people are intimidated by our world," she says. Well, Anna, as a citizen of that world, I'd say it is you who is the pinnacle of all things fashion intimidation.

However, after 90 minutes of all Anna all the time, I'd say that the picture that emerges is less "Devil Wears Prada" and more "God Wears Prada." Not that the revered editor-in-chief is boundless in her mercy, has multiple incarnations or has achieved enlightenment--she is more like the God of the Old Testament: omnipotent, all-powerful and quick and ruthless in her judgment. But that's what it takes to govern the world of man, so why should the heavenly realms of the jewel in Conde Nast's crown be any different?

However, what struck me about the film had less to do with Anna and more to do with (as critics have already observed) the overall office dynamic. But I'll spare you yet another schpeel on the wonders of the benevolent and uber talented Grace Coddington and the hilarious antics of Andre Leon Talley, though both were excellent and make me want to rush immediately to 4 Times Square and beg for a job.

But what really struck me is how Vogue USA, the ins and outs, the daily grind, is actually much closer to home and reality than the Ugly Betty/Devil Wears Prada work environment I was convinced existed. Despite having worked a few floors down from Anna at Allure, Vogue Russia and Glamour UK, and even once having had her arm just inches from my body, reaching across me in the Conde Nast cafeteria for a bottle of water, Vogue USA nevertheless maintained that mythic quality which rendered it impenetrable to the human imagination. That ever elusive 16th floor.

But, as it would seem, the Vogue offices are really just another magazine office. Not every member of the staff is clad head to toe ridiculous designer, a story board is still a story board made from glue and poster board and a closet a messy jumble of racks bearing handwritten sticky labels denoting to which shoot each rack belongs. To be fair, their closet was considerably bigger than Vogue Russia or Glamour's, but it much more closely resembled my own at home than the swish, glass ceilinged, secret-chamber-boasting recesses depicted on Ugly Betty or glossy treasure vault in which Carrie discovers those coveted Mary Jane Manolos.

The thing I have to say which really makes me want to praise this film to the skies is the fact that it truly reveals the grueling, decidedly non-glamorous side of fashion which is the daily reality of most of the industry's workers. While the rest of the world may think we have it easy, a life of endless freebies, flowing champagne, fabulous people and parties ("how hard is it really to sit and watch models strut down a catwalk?" I've been asked many a time with an unsympathetic sneer when I complain of mid-fashion week exhaustion), the reality for most of us is an inexhaustible work load, fierce competition, ridiculous hours including late nights, weekends and holidays and less than fab pay. And, as the film aptly shows, it's never-ending. After the 90 minute documentary about the slog of putting together the September Issue, the second the issue's put to bed (and in reality, long before), it's on to October and the whole process reverts back to square one.

Of course, as Grace herself says after Anna kills yet another of her to-die-for spreads, it's not all bad: we do it because we love it and are lucky that our life's passion pays our bills. Still, maybe after September Issue goes global on September 11, peripheral acquaintances of fashionistas everywhere will think twice before emerging from the woodwork to petition for upcoming fashion week tickets and let us get on with our jobs with peace and perhaps even, dare I say it, respect.