VICTORIA’S SECRET PIVOT WELCOME,
Few things are as distressing — at least for me — as trying on certain items in front of a fulllength mirror in a store’s dressing room. Auditioning swimsuits under fluorescent lights probably tops the list of wretched encounters, followed by the testing of lingerie with too many ribbons and wires. Such occasions ruin my appetite.
This explains, in part, why Victoria’s Secret is not a retail place I frequent. The last time I entered one of its shops in the nearby mall was years ago. I wanted to use a gift card that I probably should’ve handed off to one of my daughters-inlaw. After all, I’m not the demographic Victoria’s Secret seeks to lure. My days of cleavage flaunting and come-hither looks are in the rear-view mirror.
Nevertheless, a New York Times story about a Victoria’s Secret rebranding caught my eye. For years, the company produced a well-watched TV show of models strutting the runway in push-up bras, stiletto boots and towering wings. The world’s top models vied for a spot as one of the “Angels,” and for many in the business of fashion it provided a career-boosting shot.
But then came the #Me
Too movement and revelations that its CEO had ties to sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. The show was cancelled in 2019, a move that was applauded by the many who believed the show objectified women. I didn’t care either way. I’m a huge believer in realistic expectations and have long accepted that my body will never ever look like Heidi Klum’s. Even if I starve myself, even if I exercise for hours, even if I go under the knife. (Besides, I’m just not willing to give up chocolate.)
Maybe other women felt the same way, because the company’s market share has plummeted. Last year it hovered at 21%, down from 32% in 2015. Thus motivated, the new bosses at Victoria’s Secret decided to tiptoe into the 21st century.
“When the world was changing, we were too slow to respond,” said Martin Waters, the new CEO. “We needed to stop being about what men want and to be about what women want.”
So, the company has signed on seven women who, according to the Times, are “famous for their achievements and not their proportions.” Some of the names might surprise you. These include pink-haired soccer star Megan Rapinoe, plussize model and inclusivity advocate Paloma Elsesser, Chinese-American freestyle skier Eileen Gu and 38-year-old Indian tech investor and actress Priyanka Chopra Jonas.
The group will do more than appear in ads, of course. It will also advise the company, which is cobbling together a board of directors comprised almost entirely of women. Already it used a pregnant model for its Mother’s Day campaign, and it announced the future sale of nursing bras, a marketing move that surely qualifies as the sharpest hairpin branding turn on record.
I’m certain Victoria Secret will be closely monitored, and not only by investors. Women want to see themselves reflected in an authentic way. I’m not sure, however, that a gorgeous Priyanka or the super-fit Eileen or the muscled Megan do that. In many ways, these women were chosen because they can sell the illusion of modern-day attractiveness. They’re not your average lumpy Maria.
Victoria’ Secret bosses have their work cut out for them. Their mission requires a collective reset of how we view feminine beauty. Sexy will have to be redefined on the very platforms that worshipped the perfect figure. Is that possible?
I hope so. Most women I know, if not all, don’t have reed-thin bodies.
Nor do they have toned thighs or flat stomachs or overly perky breasts. They sag and they bulge and they dimple in all kinds of places. Their individual beauty, however, is unassailable — if we only open our eyes to those perfect imperfections.
Ana Veciana-Suarez writes about family and social issues. Email her at avecianasuarez@gmail.com or visit her website anavecianasuarez.com. Follow @AnaVeciana.