I'm a G-List Celebrity
The Return of The Victoria's Secret Fashion Show
Like many girls of my generation, I grew up dreaming of becoming a Victoria’s Secret angel. Their store glared at me every time my mom walked me through the mall, pink stripes beaming, and lingerie-clad mannequins piquing my curiosities. Imagery of amazonian models, with glowing skin and cleavage up to their ears, burned itself into my brain as the final boss of womanhood.
As a baby trans, there was something so obviously alluring about all of it, which for some reason (age, the state of my gender) felt very off-limits. My flat chest didn’t quite belong in lingerie, but that certainly didn’t stop me from trying. By seventh grade, age eleven and my first year of transition, I owned my first bra from PINK, a size 32AA that still managed to have gaping holes between my skin and the fabric. However, I very much bought into the fantasy that they sold me. This is in part because I was an avid subscriber of their annual fashion show.
Once a year, it was a guaranteed night of TV time in my household. I’m still not sure why my parents obliged. It certainly wasn’t due to their interest, although I know how excited they saw it made me. We’d circle around our 19” living room television in Boston and the hour of angel wings and musical performances would fly by, as I’d pump around the living room impersonating my best Adriana Lima strut.
When the show was put to rest four years ago, to me, it felt like the right time to say goodbye. In a time of global social unrest, the brand’s racism, fatphobia and transphobia lost me as both a fan and customer. The fantasy was no more, and my now surgically enhanced breasts preferred being braless. There was more glamour and showmanship happening elsewhere, with Rihanna’s Savage Fenty and Kim Kardashian’s Skims becoming major players in the market.
However, my heart still skipped a beat when I was emailed a personal invitation to the return of their show, which took place just a few nights ago. I was only informed of their return a couple days prior, by Alex, who picked me up in Manhattan via chauffeur, after her fitting for the show. Alex was part of the brand’s ninety million dollar relaunch production, that aimed to win back their consumer base by showcasing their new values, leaders, and muses. My friend is officially an angel y’all, and I had secured the once-coveted invite to witness her spread her wings. I felt like Kris Jenner or Yolanda Hadid, sat and ready to see my baby take on the spotlight.
By the time Tuesday rolled around, I had received my seat assignment and arrival time. Section G, row 7, seat 1. The only friend I knew I’d have in attendance with me was Aaron Rose, and she informed me that they declined her request to be sat together. That day, I only gave myself 45 minutes to get ready. I put on my only remaining Victoria’s Secret bra, a leopard print push-up, and layered it over a different one. My vision was an ode to my seventh grade self. It’s what she would’ve wanted me to wear. Over the bras, I slipped into a (certainly polyester) lace nightie I bought on Amazon. I wore Sheertex tights because the fall air is becoming crisper and the show was on the water. Completing the look was a Fanci Club skirt, Prada heels, my thrifted fur coat, and my gifted Valentino clutch.
I stepped out of my surge-priced $38 chartered vehicle and onto the pink carpet. With a nervous tremor in my hand, I presented my QR code on the shattered iPhone 11 I’m still borrowing, and immediately ran into Luke Meagher, aka HauteLeMode. With a friend in sight, my tension eased and we walked through the sea of pink and black together.
I took my seat exactly fifty-two minutes before the show started. I knew my section G self wasn’t needed for an interview on the pink carpet. I’d had Luke snap some iPhone photos of me on the walk in, so I got the only proof I needed that I had been there. Now I could just focus on enjoying the fact that I was there. Also, my sheertex and fur combo weren’t quite enough to keep me cozy against the Navy Yard winds as the sun set. I did see Aaron Rose coming off the carpet from her interview, and I cheered for her as loudly as I could. I have no decorum.
As my section began to fill with a sea of unfamiliar faces, I found myself sitting behind the brand’s executives and in front of producers of the show. Directly next to me was Lena Baranovsky, the Chief Operations Officer of Hunting Season, a handbag and lifestyle brand. She told me I had a better angle than her and asked if I could get videos of Irina Shayk for her.
The lights had gone down, and a countdown had begun, but then paused, then lights up again. However, this was just so Cardi B could arrive and take her seat. The crowd cheered for her, and she looked flawless, but I honestly found her tardiness somewhat gimmicky; Queen Latifah and Ice Spice were on time.
The show began with a performance by Blackpink’s Lisa, who rose out of the ground, posed atop a motorcycle. The first angel to hit the runway was Gigi Hadid, with Chappel Roan’s track Femininomenon backing her saunter. Behind her, Doutzen Kroes stepped out, but her spiral strap stiletto got caught in the crack of the stage, and she accidentally yanked her foot out of it. Like a pro, she slid it back on and carried on down the runway. The crowd went wild as the show must go on!
In the next portion of the show, Tyla performed. Alex walked out in stationary, baby blue wings and meandered down the runway, doing the classic VS angel maneuver, reaching out to Tyla like Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam. I screamed louder than I did at the One Direction concert I attended in seventh grade.
It was a return of all the angels, from my generation and the one before: Jasmine Tookes, Candice Swanepoel, Adrina Lima, Behati Prinsloo, and Adriana Lima now joined by Carla Bruni, Isabelli Fontana, and Eva Herzigova. My jaw dropped when Kate Moss walked out during Orianthi’s performance. I had an itch that Lila would walk, so I wasn’t surprised when she came out before her mom. But Kate, wow. This was my first sighting of my forever style-icon.
Before the show could end, Cher rose from the ground on a stage platform surrounded by backup dancers. As she sang Believe, Bella Hadid made her return to the VS runway, circling down the catwalk in a red lace two piece, her rock-hard abs on display under a voluminous floor length coat, appearing to close the show. With everyone wondering “did we miss Tyra?” The legendary Miss Tyra Banks rose from below the catwalk and led the finale parade of angels in a rather underwhelming black catsuit and cape.
The show itself didn’t quite live up to the hype I’d created in my head around the pomp and circumstance of a Victoria’s Secret production. Maybe it’s just the fourth fiscal quarter and we’re in a recession, but everything from the venue, to the set design, to the clothing itself felt somewhat lackluster. Maybe they’re recovering from the documentary they spent $90,000,000 on just last year. Maybe the star-studded cast is now on Ozempic. Nevertheless, the entire experience was very much still a pinch-me moment! Seeing a free concert while superstar models tear down the runway is never a waste of time. I think I just missed the body glitter and barrel curls of it all. The over-the-top stage design, with props, and lingerie that was entirely unwearable. That was where the real fantasy came from, not from their prehistoric discriminatory ways of casting in the past. Gone are the days of Ariana Grande ducking beneath angels, to avoid falling off the raised platform runway. Aside from the concert-arena mechanics that raised and lowered performers and models from the floor, the venue’s set up resembled a gymnasium, with bleacher seating. My knees were in the back of the executives in front of me. The wings themselves were smaller, and models walked along the floor, either level with, or below us spectators.
I also feel as though the show lacked the level of marketing it got in the past. As aforementioned, I wasn’t even aware of the show’s return until a week prior! What happened to the hype around the castings? The hype of seeing an angel fit for her first wings? Granted, I don’t miss the physical training videos they nixed (now replaced by Ozempic), that only instilled my self hatred as a tween.
When the show was over, I found Aaron Rose and her agent in the sea of humans, and we had a drink and Shake Shack burgers, standing on the floor that just minutes before, was a runway. Hearing that the official after party was back in Manhattan, I decided to call it a night. I wrapped myself in my fur and walked out of the Navy Yard in my Prada heels, and through Brooklyn, all the way home.
Until next time —
xx