IMPACT COMMUNICATION
AND INNOVATION
AND INNOVATION
With forty years of history, the lingerie brand Victoria’s Secret became an international benchmark both for its products and the identity it built. On one hand, models dream of achieving the body and the requirements that come with the position of an "Angel," thus being able to take part in the grand fashion shows organized by the brand. On the other, the consumers targeted by the brand (women between 18 and 49) want to absorb this Victoria’s Secret imagery by wearing its lingerie and using its other products, such as its cosmetics line.
In Brazil, we experienced a moment of fever where traveling abroad meant bringing back Victoria’s Secret creams to give as gifts or resell. But over time, not only did the products become more accessible to Brazilians, but the brand itself failed to update its identity in line with the spirit of our times. This culminated in the recent report that confirms the drop in profits for Victoria’s Secret’s parent company, L Brands, precisely during the same period that the lingerie brand holds its major clearance sale.
If, in the past, this time of year meant that physical and virtual stores would see intensified traffic, today, after the #MeToo movement, women are no longer connecting with a brand that defends a sexualized and idealized representation of the female figure. If, before, Victoria’s Secret’s fashion shows and advertising images were admired for their provocative and extravagant lingerie, for the large angel wings worn by the models, and for the always radiant yet provocative smile, today we no longer want or identify with that narrative.
But Victoria’s Secret didn’t live on image alone. In fact, one of the reasons the brand conquered the lingerie market is the fact that every woman has difficulty finding a bra that truly fits her body correctly. As more women managed to find Victoria’s Secret models that suited their bodies, it was natural for them to keep buying from the same brand for the sake of greater convenience. But with the arrival of brands like Lively, Evelyn & Bobbie, and ThirdLove, which focus on creating more comfortable and innovative lingerie, offer online quizzes to make finding the best size easier, and also make it easy to exchange and try out products, it would only make sense to stay loyal to Victoria’s Secret if there were still an identification with the brand’s purpose or message. But there isn’t.
The brand tried to subvert its narrative by bringing models of other ethnicities to its runways, which were mostly composed of European and American women—blonde and light-eyed. In 2016, specifically, when the brand organized its fashion show costing over $12 million, no one was expecting anything more than another show with tall, thin women wearing push-up bras and large angel wings. But it was at that moment that, taking into account an agenda increasingly interested in the topic of feminism, some opinions began to treat the fact that there were women walking in lingerie as something, in fact, empowering. In an analysis published in Cosmopolitan, Jill Filipovic argues:
Writing about corporate displays of female beauty ideals, whether it’s a fashion show or a beauty pageant, is always complicated. There is nothing wrong, immoral, or anti-feminist about women appearing in public wearing lingerie. There is nothing anti-feminist about appreciating female beauty. There is nothing anti-feminist about liking fashion, watching fashion shows, and engaging in the fantasy and consumerism of it all. If it were anti-feminist to appreciate, buy, and wear sexy lingerie, then I would have been kicked out of the movement years ago.
But putting conventionally attractive women on stage—even if these women are radically more diverse than in recent years—and using them as physical representations of sex in order to sell bras is not exactly a manifestation of the feminist dream. More disturbing is seeing how the show has been coined "empowering," even in contexts that make little sense.
Filipovic comments that, after the show, several models, such as Bella Hadid, used their social media profiles to share testimonials about how happy they were to have walked alongside inspiring women or, in her words, “the most inspiring and incredible women in the world.” For the critic, although those models certainly have qualities, stories, and projects beyond the runway, being “professionally beautiful” should not be the great differentiator.
It might make you rich or enviable, but of all the things we should admire as something inspiring and incredible, the simple accident of having been born with genes that made you 5'11" tall and have perfectly sculpted cheekbones should not be on the list. It’s not that I’m belittling models—many of us, including myself, don’t qualify as the most inspiring and incredible women in the world, and if I looked like Bella Hadid, I would probably decide to cash in on it too. But that wouldn’t make me inspiring or incredible; it would make me genetically blessed and rich. Making models a major benchmark of female inspiration sends a bad message not only to girls and women, but also to boys and men, that, still, the most important characteristic women can offer is physical beauty.
One of the defenses raised by supporters of the brand who sought to incorporate feminism into Victoria’s Secret’s actions pointed out that the brand’s fashion show would, in fact, be a celebration of female sexuality. “Men love to see women in lingerie, of course—but women love to be that person (not just for men), extremely powerful, confident, and seductive, totally in command of our divine identities,” as argued in an analysis published on the website Bustle, which also added the comment that most women fantasize about being princesses or magical creatures, so the show “communicates loud and clear that this is a dream that can come true for us, women.” Filipovic also cites another analysis done by the blog The Fairy Princess Diarieswho argues that the VS fashion show actually “normalizes female sexuality” and the feeling that “we all have of ‘I want to be sexy.’” Interestingly, as Filipovic points out, both sources draw inspiration from the figure of a magical creature, the enchanted princess as a feminine ideal.
Feminist cultural critics have long pointed to the female body as an object that represents sex itself—sensual things for men to look at and enjoy. In the famous BBC series and book Ways of Seeing, film critic John Berger notes that while men look—as spectators—at women as objects to be observed, women eventually begin to see themselves as objects as well. This means we live in a state of hyper-exposure, watching ourselves being watched instead of simply acting and enjoying. This is the exact same dynamic as many of the concepts internalized in Victoria’s Secret fashion shows: that female sexuality is something to be perceived as sexy (“I want to be sexy,” as the author of the Fairy Princess Diaries puts it), rather than actually enjoying the physical pleasure of sex. I haven’t seen this year’s Victoria’s Secret show yet, but I am certain that no element of it will involve or even acknowledge female pleasure—the cleavage will be there, but not the clitoris.
But as Filipovic points out, there is nothing new in this either: “women are supposed to be sexy, but not actually sexual. Women are supposed to be physically attractive to men, but if we are actually going to have sex—at least outside of certain socially prescribed situations—we are sluts or have no self-respect.” Furthermore, the very fact that Victoria’s Secret calls its nearly naked models “angels” only reinforces the virgin-whore dichotomy: “Don’t worry, the brand seems to be telling us. Yes, they are walking in sexy lingerie, but it’s only for aesthetic enjoyment—they are good girls.”
Filipovic then compares how this confusing and ambiguous imagery of the woman as a sexy object also ends up interfering with the way teenagers develop their sexuality. Studies conducted by the American Psychological Association reveal that sexualization is endemic among girls and young women, to the point that these girls begin to sexualize themselves at a very early age.
That is, girls begin to see their value tied to looking sexy, and this type of aesthetic self-evaluation inevitably lowers their self-esteem and even diminishes their academic performance. In one study, young women who took a math test while wearing swimsuits performed significantly worse than those who took the test wearing sweatshirts. This is not to say that wearing a swimsuit is wrong and that women should cover their bodies: it is to say that women and girls are raised with the idea that our value is tied to our physical appearance, and when our physical appearance is turned into a focal point, we tend to become more self-conscious, and our mental energy is directed toward this self-surveillance instead of other tasks. And trying to be sexy is not really linked to better sex. Young women who sexualize themselves tend to engage in riskier sex and show less interest in their own pleasure. This should come as no surprise: when you are primarily concerned with how sexy you look, it is harder to relax and enjoy sex in all its carnal, messy, imperfect, and ridiculous humanity.
In other words, rather than just amplifying this toxic viewpoint of a sexualized and sexist culture, Victoria’s Secret profits millions of dollars from this false, plasticized ideal. But, as Filipovic reminds us, this did not start with the lingerie brand, obviously. Victoria’s Secret is just one of the offshoots of a sexist culture that has been fought and criticized at least since the 19th century, when a first wave of feminists reclaimed women’s sexual, reproductive, and economic rights. Today, with this agenda reclaimed in the media sphere, it is often subverted into messages that distort the original idea by, for example, selling anti-cellulite creams and push-up bras as if these “empowered” women to have the perfect body—but perfect according to what? Hence the fallacy of body positivity, which we have already covered here.
In the same way that “pink money” has become an important topic in recent weeks, due to the clueless appropriation of the LGBT cause by singer Nego do Borel, this expression also relates to how women are represented in the images and direction of these marketing campaigns and actions leveraged by brands, so that feminism, for example, often appears as an inspiration to make money, not to actually deconstruct and discuss what is still taboo, as is the case with female sexuality raised by Filipovic. The fact that Victoria’s Secret is seeing a drop in its engagement and sales while new lingerie start-ups are communicating with women more efficiently and realistically only demonstrates the weakness of this insincere communication strategy in the face of a population that is more conscious and alert to these rhetorical traps.
