My housemate was Anna Wintour’s housekeeper.

For six years, in Manhattan. So far I’ve learned that set designers got it oh-so-right in The Devil Wears Prada, and that, despite her ice-cold reputation, Ms. Vogue is sensitive to her workers emotions—and never, ever raises her voice—plus she tips very generously.

I have photographic proof—Ana, holding a signed letter from the Queen B herself—but she doesn’t want me to put it on the Internet. Alas.