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was titled “X…Mas Presents Received。” One； two； three； four；
five；six single…spaced pages of gifts； with sender and item on one
line each。 Two hundred and fifty…six presents in all。 It looked like
a wedding registry for the Queen of England； and I couldn’t take it
in fast enough。 There was a Bobby Brown makeup set from Bobby Brown
herself； a one…of…a…kind leather Kate Spade handbag from Kate and
Andy Spade； a Smythson of Bond Street burgundy leather organizer
from Graydon Carter； a mink…lined sleeping bag from Miuccia Prada； a
multistrand beaded Verdura bracelet from Aerin Lauder； a
diamond…encrusted watch from Donatella Versace； a case of champagne
from Cynthia Rowley； a matching beaded tank top and evening bag from
Mark Badgley and James Mischka； a collection of Cartier pens from
Irv Ravitz； a chinchilla muffler from Vera Wang； a zebra…print
jacket from Alberto Ferretti； a Burberry cashmere blanket from
Rosemarie Bravo。 And that was just the start。 There were handbags in
every shape and size from everyone： Herb Ritts； Bruce Weber； Giselle
Bundchen； Hillary Clinton； Tom Ford； Calvin Klein； Annie Leibovitz；
Nicole Miller； Adrienne Vittadini； Michael Kors； Helmut Lang；
Giorgio Armani； John Sahag； Bruno Magli； Mario Testino； and Narcisco
Rodriguez； to name a few。 There were dozens of donations made in
Miranda’s name to various charities； what must have been a hundred
bottles of wine and champagne； eight or ten Dior bags； a couple
dozen scented candles； a few pieces of Oriental pottery； silk
pajamas； leather…bound books； bath products； chocolates； bracelets；
caviar； cashmere sweaters； framed photographs； and enough flower
arrangements and/or potted plants to decorate one of those
five…hundred…couple mass weddings they have in soccer stadiums in
China。 Ohmigod！ Was this reality？ Was this actually happening？ Was I
now working for a woman who received 256 presents at Christmas from
some of the world’s most famous people？ Or not so famous？ I wasn’t
sure。 I recognized a few of the really obvious celebrities and
designers； but didn’t know then that the others prised some of
the most sought…after photographers； makeup artists； models；
socialites； and a whole slew of Elias…Clark executives。 Just as I
was wondering if Emily actually knew who all the people were； she
walked back in。 I tried to pretend I wasn’t reading the list； but
she didn’t mind at all。
“Crazy； isn’t it？ She is the coolest woman ever；” she gushed；
snatching the sheets off her desk and gazing at them with what can
only be described as lust。 “Have you ever seen more amazing things
in your life？ This is last year’s list。 I just pulled it out so we
know what to expect since the gifts have begun ing in already。
That’s definitely one of the best parts of the job—opening all her
presents。” I was confused。We opened her presents？ Why wouldn’t she
open them herself？ I asked as much。
“Are you out of your mind？ Miranda won’t like ninety percent of the
stuff people send。 Some of it is downright insulting； things I won’t
even show her。 Like this；” she said； picking up a small box。 It was
a Bang and Olufsen portable phone in their signature sleek silver
with all rounded edges and the capability to remain clear for
something like 2；000 miles。 I had been in the store just a couple
weeks earlier； watching Alex salivate over their stereo systems； and
I knew the phone cost upward of five hundred dollars and could do
everything short of holding a conversationfor you。 “A phone？ Do you
believe someone had the nerve to send Miranda Priestly aphone ？” She
tossed it to me。 “Keep it if you want it： I would never even let her
see this。 She’d be annoyed that someone sent somethingelectronic 。”
She pronounced the word “electronic” as though it were synonymous
with “covered in bodily fluids。”
I tucked the phone box under my desk and tried to keep the smile off
my face。 It was too perfect！ A portable phone was on my list of
stuff that I still needed for my new room； and I’d just gotten a
five…hundred…dollar one for free。
“Actually；” she continued； flopping down again on the floor of
Miranda’s office； Indian…style； “let’s put in a few hours wrapping
some more of these wine bottles； and then you can open the presents
that came in today。 They’re over there。” She pointed behind her desk
to a smaller mountain of boxes and bags and baskets in a multitude
of colors。
“So； these are gifts that we’re sending out from Miranda； right？” I
asked her as I picked up a box and began wrapping it in the thick
white paper。
“Yep。 Every year； it’s the same deal。 Top…tier people get bottles of
Dom。 This would include Elias execs； and the big designers who
aren’t also personal friends。 Her lawyer and accountant。 Midlevel
people get Veuve； and this is just about everyone—the twins’
teachers； the hair stylists； Uri； et cetera。 The nobodies get a
bottle of the Ruffino Chianti—usually they go to the PR people who
send small； general gifts that aren’t personalized for her。 She’ll
have us send Chianti to the vet； some of the babysitters who fill in
for Cara； the people who wait on her in stores she goes to often；
and all the caretakers associated with the summer house in
Connecticut。 Anyway； I order about twenty…five thousand dollars’
worth of this stuff at the beginning of November； Sherry…Lehman
delivers it； and it usually takes nearly a month to do all the
wrapping。 It’s good she’s out of the office now or we’d be taking
this stuff Home with us to wrap。 Pretty good deal； because Elias
picks up the tab。”
“I guess it would cost double that to have the Sherry…Lehman place
wrap them； huh？” I wondered； still trying to process the hierarchy
of the gift…giving。
“What the hell do we care？” she snorted。 “Trust me； you’ll learn
quickly that cost is no issue around here。 It’s just that Miranda
doesn’t like the wrapping paper they use。 I gave them this white
paper last year； but they just didn’t look as nice as when we do
it。” She looked proud。
We wrapped like that until close to six； with Emily telling me how
things worked as I tried to wrap my mind around this strange and
exciting world。 Just as she was describing exactly how Miranda likes
her Coffee （tall latte with two raw sugars）； a breathless blond girl
I remembered as one of the many fashion assistants walked in
carrying a wicker basket the size of a baby carriage。 She hovered
just outside Miranda’s office； looking as though she thought the
soft gray carpeting might turn to quicksand under her Jimmy Choos if
she dared to cross the threshold。
“Hi； Em。 I’ve got the skirts right here。 Sorry t