Chapter 1: Biography of Andrea Sachs
Outtakes Part 1 Andy’s biography in the mocked-up Christmas issue of Runway:
Name: Andrea Sachs
Birthplace: Olmstead Falls, OH
Birthday: July 16
Eye color: Chocolate
Hair color: Coffee
Alma Mater: Northwestern for English with a minor in journalism
Little-known fact: Andrea was accepted to Stanford Law School but chose to work for Miranda Priestly. Naturally.
Favorite meal: Corn chowder, grilled cheese sandwiches
Favorite Saying: Oh my God, Miranda’s going to kill me (even years after her employment at Runway ended, it is rumored that during times of great stress Andrea utters such words).
Future aspirations: Becoming a world-renowned investigative journalist; finding a way to get Miranda to acknowledge her existence in a public forum
**Editor’s Note: Recent events point toward Andrea’s aspirations becoming a reality
Defining career moment: Beating Miranda Priestly at her own game by obtaining the unpublished manuscript of the last Harry Potter book and delivering it the same day. With a smile.
Another defining career moment: Impressing Miranda Priestly by willingly making the hard choices, including walking away from Runway when Andrea realized it wasn’t what she wanted or needed.
Memorable Anecdote: Used to the frumpy outfits this serious journalist wore, Miranda Priestly nearly tripped over her chair while watching a fashionably-dressed Andrea leave her office. In that moment it was as if the two had traded bodies. The editor finally recognized that Andrea is more than the smart, fat girl. Much more.
Chapter 2: Poems
Miranda’s birthday poems (although ten were delivered, I am only including five). You can use your fertile imagination to place where each fits within the timeline of their relationship. Of course, all poems are protected through copyright laws. Read on!
Outtakes Part 2
Figures on the bedroom shade
Imprints by the rain
Incantations made by the primal dance
Of two lovers
In the same dream
Your spirit blazes too brightly.
Deep, passionate orbs blind me:
My senses are keen, nostrils flaring,
Fingertips itching, ears ringing, voice trembling—
I am rigid—the deer caught in the headlights.
Deep, passionate orbs burn me:
Circling round, my eyes dance across your face, darting to and fro,
Yet zeroing on the flame, knowing my destruction is close at hand,
Powerless to stop my instinctive path.
Deep, passionate orbs pierce me:
My surreptitious glance is intercepted, as if an arrow were shot—
Your aim is true, straight into my heart—
A fatal, untreatable wound.
Deep, passionate orbs entice me:
I hunger for you.
I long to dive into your soul, drown within your core—
Be devoured by your ardor—let me be the fish caught on your lure.
Yet I resist revelation,
For to look is to touch and I do not want to stop with merely one caress.
And so, I content myself with
Fleeting glimpses of your passion,
Searing your mark into my memory,
Infusing your essence throughout my soul like the brand of a hot poker.
My desire to experience beauty that cannot be captured, controlled, or denied pales to your white hot fire.
You, of the flashing eyes, glow.
Brushing past softly
Circling back for more
Opening up to you—I focus
Drinking you in more and more.
Sparring, wrestling, submitting,
Lips, eyes, soul: I am yours.
The thought of never seeing you
The thought of never feeling your touch
Of loving you this much
Draws the clouds around my soul
Cuts off my sun
Causes the sky to open up
And my spirit to shrivel
In the cold, relentless tears
Of a mourning world
My dying world
The world where you no longer travel
The world that has become barren
Bring back the sun, the smile, the delight.
Cast out the night
With your sight.
Let me rejoice in the sound of your voice.
Bring life with your breath, a sweet caress,
Blooming the wild, colorful flowers
Simply by unleashing your powers.
The thought of seeing you
The thought of feeling your touch
Of loving you this much
Repels the clouds from my soul
Invites the sun
Causes the sky to smile
And my spirit to soar
In the warm, welcoming rays
Of a glowing world
My reborn world
The world where you travel
The world that has become lush
Dream of Me
Dream of me softly like blues of the sky reflecting in your eye
Dream of me purely like whites of the cloud rising up proud
Dream of me passionately like reds at the start flagging your heart
Dream of me true as I look at you; free as the soul—yours is my goal
Dream of me fragrantly like greens grown in spring, like the love I bring
Dream of me sweetly like shades of the day cavorting in play
Dream of me constantly as I do of you—if only you knew
Dream of me
Dream of me
Dream of me
Chapter 3: Andrea's Birthday Dinner
Part of Miranda’s conversation with Andy’s parents on Andy’s birthday as heard by a busboy standing discreetly behind a potted plant.
Outtakes Part 3
“You don’t deserve her.”
“True. However, surely you cannot expect me to turn her away. No, no, that is not a question. I let her walk away once. I do not have the strength to do so again. Therefore, I will remain with her for as long as she will have me.”
“I just don’t understand. You treated her horribly, yet she doesn’t seem to care.”
“It was a job. She was expected to complete her assignments quickly and professionally. She understands why I treated her that way. I simply cannot accept shoddy work. Regardless, she worked for me over six years ago. She let it go. I suggest you do, too.”
“We may not be able to protect her from you, but we’ll still see her on the holidays and her birthdays—“
“Not quite. We will have to share such visits. I propose she travel to you for Thanksgiving and Easter. She shall remain here for Christmas, New Year’s, and her birthday.”
“Now wait a minute, Miranda!”
“You are free to come here during those special occasions.”
“I can’t believe we are striking a deal with the devil.”
“I won’t let her go. The only reason we are having a conversation is because she will be extremely upset if you become estranged again. For Andrea’s sake, I apologize for my part in upsetting you and your daughter.”
“We probably could have handled this better. I regret what I said.”
“He’s right. We could have behaved in a more civil manner.”
“Well. We are in agreement then. And the holiday schedule?”