From my Top 10 of 2006 rundown:
One of my major pet peeves is when people discard "popcorn" movies or "pop" music simply because they represent the generic mainstream. It's as if these people think it doesn't take anything to make a good popcorn movie or a good pop song. The abundance of bad popcorn movies and pop music is more proof than I could ever need as evidence of that fact. But, still, the stigma remains. It was with delight that I have watched The Devil Wears Prada five times already in it's short life of release. It continues to make me laugh, to fascinate me and to make me happy by pure virtue of it's existence. It's attitudes like "Oh, it's just a Hollywood comedy" that makes institutions like the Academy constantly refuse to warrant that comedy is a worthwhile form of movie making.
Seriously, how great is the cerulean "run through" sequence? Answer: VERY
This... 'stuff'? Oh... okay. I see, you think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select out, oh I don't know, that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you're trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don't know is that that sweater is not just blue, it's not turquoise, it's not lapis, it's actually cerulean.
You're also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar De La Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves St Laurent, wasn't it, who showed cerulean military jackets? I think we need a jacket here. And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of 8 different designers.
Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic casual corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and so it's sort of comical how you think that you've made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you're wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room. From a pile of stuff.