explain　this　phenomenon？”　she　asked。
  Of　course　I　could　explain　it；　just　not　to　her。　On　the　rare
  occasion　that　Miranda　was　in　her　office　alone；　she　sometimes
  picked　up　the　phone　when　it　rang。　Naturally　callers　were　so
  shocked　to　hear　her　voice　on　the　other　end　that　they　promptly
  hung　up。　No　one　was　actually　prepared　tospeak　with　her　when
  they　called；　since　the　likelihood　of　being　put　through　was
  next　to　nil。　I’d　gotten　dozens　of　e…mails　from　editors　or
  assistants　informing　me—as　if　I　didn’t　know—that　Miranda　was
  answering　the　phone　again。　“Where　are　you　guys？？？”　The
  panicked　missives　would　read；　one　after　another。　“She’s
  answering　her　own　phone！！！！”
  I　mumbled　something　about　how　I；　too；　received　hang…ups　every
  now　and　then；　but　Miranda　had　already　lost　interest。　She　was
  peering　not　at　me　but　at　my　cup　of　soup。　Some　of　the　creamy
  green　fluid　was　dripping　slowly　down　the　side。　Her　gaze　turned
  to　one　of　disgust　when　she　realized　I　was　not　only　holding
  something　edible；　but　that　I　had　clearly　planned　to　consume　it
  as　well。
  “Dispose　of　that　immediately！”　she　barked　from　fifteen　feet
  away。　“The　smell　of　it　alone　is　enough　to　make　me　ill。”
  I　dropped　the　offending　soup　in　the　garbage　can　and　gazed
  wistfully　after　the　lost　nourishment　before　her　voice　jerked
  me　back　to　reality。
  “I’m　ready　for　the　run…throughs！”　she　screeched；　settling　back
  into　her　chair　more　easily　now　that　the　food　she’d　spotted
  atRunway　had　been　discarded。　“And　the　moment　we’re　through
  here；　call　the　features　meeting。”
  Each　word　caused　another　adrenaline　surge；　since　I　was　never
  sure　what　exactly　she’d　be　requesting；　I　was　never　sure　if　I’d
  be　able　to　handle　it　or　not。　Since　it　was　Emily’s　job　to
  schedule　the　run…throughs　and　the　weekly　meetings；　I　had　to
  race　over　to　her　desk　and　check　her　appointment　book。　In　the
  three　o’clock　slot　she　had　scribbled：Sedona　Shoot　run…through；
  Lucia/Helen　。　I　jabbed　Lucia’s　extension　and　spoke　as　soon　as
  she　picked　up　the　phone。
  “She’s　ready；”　I　stated；　like　a　military　mander。　Helen；
  Lucia’s　assistant；　hung　up　without　saying　a　word；　and　I　knew
  she　and　Lucia　were　already　halfway　to　the　office。　If　they
  didn’t　arrive　within　twenty　to　twenty…five　seconds；　I　would　be
  sent　out　to　hunt　them　down　and　remind　them　in　person—just　in
  case　they　might　have　forgotten—that　when　I’d　called　thirty
  seconds　before　and　said　that　Miranda　was　ready　right　then；　I
  meant　rightthen　。　Generally　this　was　a　mere　annoyance；　yet
  another　reason　why　the　enforced　footwear　of　spiky　stilettos
  made　life　even　more　miserable。　Running　through　the　office；
  frantically　searching　for　someone　who　was　most　likely　hiding
  from　Miranda　was　never　fun；　but　it　was　only　really　miserable
  when　that　person　happened　to　be　in　the　bathroom。　Whatever　one
  does　in　a　men’s　or　ladies’　room；　however；　is　no　excuse　for　not
  being　available　at　the　exact　moment　your　presence　is　expected；
  and　so　I　had　to　charge　right　in—sometimes　checking　underneath
  the　stalls　for　recognizable　footwear—and　politely　ask　in
  whatever　humiliated　way　I　could　manage　that　they　finish　up　and
  head　to　Miranda’s　office。　Immediately。
  Luckily　for　everyone　involved；　Helen　arrived　within　seconds；
  pushing　an　overflowing；　off…kilter　wheeled　rack　in　front　of
  her　and　pulling　another　behind　her。　She　hesitated　briefly
  outside　Miranda’s　French　door　before　she　received　one　of
  Miranda’s　imperceptible　nods　and　then　dragged　the　racks
  through　the　thick　carpeting。
  “This　is　all　of　it？　Two　racks？”　Miranda　asked；　barely　looking
  up　from　the　copy　she　was　reading。
  Helen　was　clearly　surprised　at　being　addressed；　since；　as　a
  rule；　Miranda　didn’t　speak　to　other　people’s　assistants。　But
  Lucia　hadn’t　shown　up　with　her　own　racks　yet；　so　there　was
  little　choice。
  “Um；　uh；　no。　Lucia　will　be　here　in　just　a　moment。　She　has　the
  other　two。　Would　you　like　me　to；　uh；　begin　showing　you　what
  we’ve　called　in？”　Helen　asked　nervously　as　she　pulled　her
  ribbed　tank　top　down　over　her　prairie　skirt。
  “No。”
  And　then：　“Ahn…dre…ah！　Find　Lucia。　By　my　watch　it’s　three
  o’clock。　If　she’s　not　prepared；　then　I　have　better　things　to
  do　than　sit　here　and　wait　for　her。”　Which　wasn’t　exactly　true；
  since　it　appeared　she　hadn’t　yet　stopped　reading　copy　and　it
  was　now　only　approximately　thirty…five　seconds　since　I’d　made
  the　initial　phone　call。　But　I　wasn’t　about　to　point　this　out。
  “No　need；　Miranda；　I’m　right　here；”　sang　a　breathless　Lucia；
  herself　pushing　and　pulling　racks　past　me　just　as　I　stood　to
  begin　the　search。　“So　sorry。　We　were　waiting　for　one　last　coat
  from　the　YSL　people。”
  She　arranged　the　racks；　which　were　organized　by　clothing　type
  （shirts；　outerwear；　pants/skirts；　and　dresses）　in　a
  half…circle　in　front　of　Miranda’s　desk　and　gave　the　signal　for
  Helen　to　leave。　Miranda　and　Lucia　then　went　through　each　item；
  one　by　one；　and　bickered　over　its　place　or　lack　thereof　in　the
  uping　fashion　shoot　that　was　to　take　place　in　Sedona；
  Arizona。　Lucia　was　pushing　for　an　“urban　cowgirl　chic”　look；
  which　she　thought　would　play　out　perfectly　against　a　backdrop
  of　the　red…rock　mountains；　but　Miranda　kept　announcing　snidely
  that　she’d　prefer　“just　chic；”　since　“cowgirl　chic”　was
  clearly　an　oxymoron。　Maybe　she’d　had　her　fill　of　“cowgirl
  chic”　at　B…DAD’s　brother’s　party。　I　managed　to　tune　them　out
  until　Miranda　called　my　name；　this　time　ordering　me　to　call　in
  the　accessories　people　for　their　run…through。
  Immediately　I　checked　Emily’s　book　again；　but　it　was　just　as　I
  thought：　there　was　no　accessories　run…through　scheduled。
  Praying　that　Emily　had　simply　forgotten　to　put　it　in　the　book；
  I　called　Stef　and　told　her　Miranda　was　ready　for　the　Sedona
  run…through。
  No　such　luck。　They　weren’t　scheduled　for　their　run…through
  until　late　afternoon　the　following　day；　and　at　least　a　quarter
  of　the　things　they　needed　hadn’t　been　delivered　yet　from　their
  PR　panies。
  “Impossible。　Can’t　do　it；”　announced　Stef；　sounding　much　less
  confident　than　her　words　implied。
  “Well；　what　the　hell　do　you　expect　me　to　tell　her？”　I
  whispered　back。
  “Tell　her　the　truth：　the　run…through　wasn’t　supposed　to　take
  place　until　tomorrow　and　a　lot　of　the　stuff　isn’t　here。　I
  mean；　seriously！　Right　now　we’re　still　waiting　for　one　evening
  bag；　one　clutch；　three　different　fringed　purses；　four　pairs　of
  shoes；　two　necklaces；　three—”
  “OK；　OK；　I’ll　tell　her。　But　wait　by　the　phone　and　pick　up　if　I
  call　you　back。　And　if　I　were　you；　I’d　get　ready。　I’m　betting
  she　doesn’t　really　care　when　it　was　scheduled　for。”
  Stef　hung　up　on　me　without　another　word　and　I　approached
  Miranda’s　doors　and　waited　patiently　for　her　to　acknowledge
  me。　When　she　looked　in　my　general　direction　and　waited；　I
  said；　“Miranda；　I　just　spoke　with　Stef　and　she　said　that　since
  the　run…through　wasn’t　scheduled　until　tomorrow；　they’re　still
  waiting　for　quite　a　few　items。　But　they　should　all　be　here
  by—”
  “Ahn…dre…ah；　I　simply　cannot　visualize　how　these　models　will
  look　in　these　clothes　without　shoes　or　bags　or　jewelry　and　by
  tomorrow　I’ll　be　in　Italy。　Tell　Stef　I　want　her　to　give　me　a
  run…through　of　whatever　she’s　got　and　be　prepared　to　show　me
  photos　of　whatever　isn’t　here　yet！”　She　turned　back　to　Lucia
  and　together　they　returned　to　the　racks。
  Conveying　this　to　Stef　gave　new　meaning　to　“don’t　shoot　the
  messenger。”　She　freaked。
  “I　cannot　fucking　pull　a　run…through　together　in　thirty
  seconds；　do　you　understand　me？　It’s　fucking　impossible！　Four
  of　my　five　assistants　aren’t　here；　and　the　only　one　who　is
  here　is　a　plete　fucking　idiot。　Andrea；　what　the　fuck　am　I
  going　to　do？”　She　was　hysterical；　but　there　wasn’t　much　room
  for　negotiation。
  “OK；　great　then；”　I　said　sweetly；　eyeing　Miranda；　who　had　a
  knack　of　hearing　everything。　“I’ll　tell　Miranda　you’ll　be
  right　here。”　I　hung　up　before　she　dissolved　into　tears。
  I　wasn’t　surprised　to　see　Stef　arrive　two　and　a　half　minutes
  later　with　her　one　fucking　idiot　accessories　assistant；　a
  fashion　assistant　she’d　borrowed；　and　James；　also　borrowed
  from　beauty；　all　looking　terrified　as　they　carried　oversize
  wicker　baskets。　They　stood　cowering　by　my　desk　until　Miranda
  gave　another　imperceptible　nod；　at　which　point　they　all
  shuffled　forward　for　the　genuflection　exercises。　Since　Miranda
  obviously　refused　to　leave　her　office—ever—she　required　that
  all　the　overflowing　racks　of　clothes　and　carts　full　of　shoes
  and　baskets　brimming　over　with　accesso