Cue the sweaters and pumpkin spiced lattes: This week marked the official beginning of fall, and cozy season always involves cuddling up to your favorite autumnal rom-coms (or, in preparation for Halloween, your favorite spooky films). There’s something about this time of year, though, that always makes me re-watch some of my favorite fashion movies as well: I’m talking 13 Going on 30, The Devil Wears Prada, or maybe even Confessions of a Shopaholic.

The minute I feel even the slightest cool-crisp in the air, I pop on a good fashion movie: It’s the perfect thing to watch for the fall dressing inspiration alone. I mean, Miranda Priestly’s coats in The Devil Wears Prada? Sickening. In the journey of re-watching some of these beloved flicks, however, I’ve noticed a disturbing through-line: Why do I always seem to side with the villains?

No, I’m not talking about Nate, Andy’s moping boyfriend in The Devil Wears Prada (a true villain). I’m talking about the main antagonists who we are supposed to be rooting against. Take Miranda Priestly or Emily Charlton in the classic 2006 flick (and, more recently, the 2026 sequel): I would argue that they are simply two fashion divas who are doing their jobs. Allow me to explain.

Sure, Miranda and Emily are not the most warm-and-cuddly individuals. But does that mean they are evil personified?

No! They are good at what they do (if not extremely type-A), and better yet, dressed impeccably while doing it.

Sorry they don’t have time to babysit Andy whilst absolutely slaying their 9-to-5 wardrobe. I mean, Emily even goes out of her way to teach Andy the ropes when she joins Runway—only for Andy to backstab her and go to Paris in her place, after she gets hit by car, no less.

Who’s the real villain there?

Ditto for Wilhelmina Slater in Ugly Betty—the only person with any real taste working for Mode. God forbid—like.

Miranda—that she has high standards, and demands more from her employees. Is making her assistant, Marc, do her Botox himself a little insane?

Why, yes. But is that not what we want from a fashion magazine creative director?

Anyone with a creative mind should be a little unhinged! Plus, Daniel Meade only got the top job because of nepotism: Wilhelmina earned her right to be a little jaded.

I had similar thoughts while recently watching 13 Going on 30. When 13-year-old Jenna Rink fast-forwards to a 30-year-old version of herself, we meet her as a successful editor for Poise magazine.

Her sassy work bestie, Lucy Wyman (played by a delicious Judy Greer), later reveals herself as a villain—a former childhood mean girl who is now trying to “backstab and steal Jenna’s success.” But is she really that horrible? I have my own theories.

At the end of the day, Jenna and Lucy are both tasked with coming up with a new concept for Poise, and all Lucy does is decide to branch out and work on her very own presentation. Sorry, she didn’t want to ride on Jenna’s coattails—some of us don’t like team projects, okay?

We also even learn that Jenna once stole an assistant’s idea for a concept, then fired her: So, she ain’t no angel, either. At least Lucy is upfront and honest about her scheming ways.

I’d also argue that Lucy has way better personal style than Jenna (that pinstripe suit and lingerie top? I still think about it.) And can we talk about the actual concepts they come up with?

Lucy comes up with an edgy, avant-garde “fashion suicide” concept—okay, the name is bad—but it at least had a strong point of view. We love a hot take!

Jenna’s high school yearbook concept was tired and boring—more catalogue than high-fashion. Just because Lucy didn’t come up with a rainbows-and-sunshine concept doesn’t make her a bad person.

When it comes to fashion movies, we always seem to instantly vilify any character who is chic, driven, and not the poster child for world peace. No one is perfect.

And sorry, but there would simply be no movies without these morally questionable queens: They bring the spice. Take Alicia from Confessions of a Shopaholic: The Alette editor is dubbed as “Alicia bitch long legs,” only because she is fierce, wears sky-high Louboutins, and doesn’t want to mentor Rebecca Bloomwood, who is quite literally gunning for her job.

Why would she be nice to someone who is trying to replace her? Girl, bye!

Same for Baroness in Cruella: She is seen as this cruel designer diva—impossible to work for—which may be true, but she is also one of the top designers in the world. . . She’s allowed to be difficult.

And why wouldn’t she go toe-to-toe with Cruella, this wannabe mysterious designer newbie who is trying to steal the spotlight? Baroness has a business and name to protect!

What is she supposed to do: Invite Cruella over for some tea and watch Love Island together? Get a grip.

All of this to say: These fall fashion movie re-watches have me seriously questioning everything about my own morals. Because I almost always side with the bad guys.

(Except Nate—not you, Nate.) Are these stylish characters really that cunning, or are they just confident and self-assured in their own power? Not to metion the fact that, as they all happen to be women, this reputation also reeks of misogyny.

Plus, we’re not sure when being an anti-people pleaser received such a stigma. But maybe I, too, am an evil bitch.

And if I am: Sue me! Or hire me: I am available to be cast as a snobby clacker in The Devil Wears Prada 3.