Angels and Diamonds

Up until very recently, I never knew Victoria’s Secret had a fashion show. To me, the store was always just a pink, poofy and slightly ridiculous wonderland of pornography, complete with fluffy slippers, immensely complicated under-armor that Barbarella couldn’t navigate out of, and gigantic posters of the most perfectly sculpted bodies (that, c’mon, must be artificially enhanced) in angel wings.

And yet, this “fashion” show does exist, and not only does it attract salivating men who stare unblinking at the screen with the same expression as a cow chewing its curd, but I actually know some (straight) girls who were looking forward to last night’s extravaganza for an embarrassingly long time.

“No one puts on a show like VS,” read my friend’s Facebook status last night. After seeing some photos from the event, I can safely say she’s not wrong—but I don’t think it’s a good thing. You can’t have fantasy in a fashion show without some anchoring and practical aspect that keeps the whole thing from getting overblown (i.e. there needs to be good clothes). Considering the “Harlequin fantasy bra” costs a whopping $3 million dollars (which is modest compared to what it’s been in the past) and looks like it’s been encrusted with all of Elizabeth Taylor’s wedding rings, I guess I finally have to concede that sex, more than anything else, really is enough to sell.

Or maybe not; the show came second in ratings last night, right after, very ironically, NBC’s Biggest Loser. So maybe there is hope for our world after all.