I thought I was morally opposed to the practice of having rich young post-teens move to New York for the summer and work for magazines for free, but after hearing these former unpaid interns complain about their experiences in this New York Post article? Well I still agree that unpaid internships are exploitative, but also I kind of want to make them go pick up my dry-cleaning:
“One time, Grace Coddington was selling her books, her Dolce & Gabbana books and her Tom Ford books, and [the interns] had to take them to the bookstore, five boxes of them, in a car, and we were told not to tell anybody,” says Denmark, who was not eligible for school credit since she had already graduated.
“I cried myself to sleep at least three nights a week,” she continues.
“It’s not because I didn’t have the tough bones,” Denmark clarifies, “it was because I would be scolded for not putting the tape on the mood boards correctly . . . if it stuck out a little or if there was a little bump in the corner of it, or if it wasn’t to their liking, I got in trouble.”
She cried herself to sleep and felt “belittled” because she had to carry books IN A CAR. (¬_¬)
Girl, when I was 22 I was living with someone else’s nine-year-old, a kid who sang “Meggie, Meggie, Meggie, you have plump leggies” to me every morning, and who pulled a butcher knife on me when I asked him to do his summer reading.
But yeah, I certainly didn’t do it for free, and no one should.
I am excited for the day when Conde Nast has to pay these kids a decent wage so they can yell at them guilt-free, and properly fire them if they are so bad at mood boards.