A healthy fear of what I don’t know

Clips from The Devil Wears Prada are all over my feed right now, alongside shots from the sequel filming in New York ahead of its release next May.

One scene from the 2006 original lives in my head rent-free: Miranda calmly dismantling Andy’s scoff at two belts that “look the same” to her. In a few icy sentences, Miranda reveals Andy’s missing context and delivers a mini masterclass in fashion history—ending with the iconic “cerulean sweater” line.

It’s worth a rewatch:

I live in fear of being Andy in that moment. No, that’s not right. Let me rephrase that: I have a healthy fear of being Andy in that moment—confidently passing judgment without having the full picture. That fear isn’t insecurity. It’s awareness: knowing what I know, knowing what I don’t, and staying open to learning something new at any moment.

Early in your career, the safest move is often to keep quiet, as Stanley Tucci’s character advises Andy. But later on, experience brings a different balance. I’ve been in the field long enough to trust my expertise—especially after plenty of experiences of being mansplained, patronized, and gaslit. I can now recognize when I truly know what I’m talking about.

I remember the exact day I shed my imposter syndrome. I was in my Yale School of Management classroom, surrounded by management consultants and Wall Street bankers. After the third inconsequential comment in the class discussion while I kept my own comment to myself, I thought: I’m just as smart as they are. I’ve learned this material just as well—maybe better. The doubt was gone. I’m in plenty of situations where I don’t know as much as other people, and then I do keep quiet and listen more than I speak – but I don’t doubt my ability to keep up and hold my own anymore.

That doesn’t mean I never get it wrong. When I suspect someone else is off-base but I’m not 100% sure, I ask questions—sometimes starting with, “I may be wrong, but I thought…” If I’m right, the record gets set straight. If I’m wrong, I’ve learned something without looking arrogant. And often, the other person gets to look smart in the process (thank you, Dale Carnegie).

It’s a simple habit, but it keeps me from getting caught in a “cerulean sweater” moment. It’s not insecurity, and it’s not arrogance—it’s professionalism. And it’s one of the best ways I know to stay both confident and collaborative at work.