It's not a true lingerie fashion show, highlighting one designer's creations. The Victoria's Secret Fashion Show has more in common with a classic beauty pageant. But what struck me this year is that the show appears stuck in some bygone era.
Rough day at the office This year I was lucky enough (after a little begging and groveling) to attend the 2013 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show at the...
The fact of the matter is, I really don't need you that much. Now before you go getting all weepy, let me clarify that I'm keeping you around -- you're pretty much all that I have -- but the last few years of our relationship have been based more out of social convention than physical necessity.
Brands are like people. So, what if? What if the brands we use and wear everyday were shoes? What would they look like? Feel like?
I have loved you since the day I met you. I met you about 10 years ago, and for a while, I only had eyes for you. But you changed. And it's time for us to part ways.
Sickness, even sickness conquered, cannot be sexy, or so the marketing logic likely goes. A woman living as a cancer survivor is not just a body transformed, hers is a life transformed. Victoria's Secret could have been a part of this process.
This month, I've been going back to my roots and listening to a lot of songs that a girly girl like me would listen to, as well as new singles which have been topping the music charts.
"Stacy's Mom" is the family-friendly national anthem of our broadly female-objectifying mainstream everything. Products like this both reflect and create culture.
It's not that thongs meant for young women emblazoned with phrases like "Call Me" and "Feeling Lucky?" are entirely shocking coming from Victoria's Secret, but more that they insisted on comparing our young daughters to objects and things in order to sell them this lingerie.
The first step toward seeing the objectification, other-ization and suppression of women is recognizing the problem still exists. With persistence and some time, this tide which has begun to turn will be irreversibly altered for the better.
I was sitting with a group of old girlfriends; old being the operative word. We meet at each other's home, with our husbands, four times a year. Weather permitting, the men play golf while the women stay behind, wolfing down chips, nuts, cheese and crackers and kvetching about how impossible it is to lose weight.
Missing in the debate is any broadening of the conversation beyond conservative scolding and liberal retort. Where are the challenges to marketers' inappropriate targeting of young girls that affirmed healthy female sexuality?
Feminist historical amnesia might be fine if things were great for us now, if the battles had been won and stayed won and egalitarianism were the order of the day. But let's face it: these fights were never won.
Whether my underwear is cute, colorful or funny, it's not going to make me more cute, colorful or funny. It's not my clothes, it's me. Victoria's Secret can try to tell to me that some new underwear will help make me more this or that, but I already have a pretty good idea of who I am.
Bras in my size are cheerfully doodled over with hearts, flowers and little cupcakes that would inspire Katy Perry to write a hit song right there in the dressing room. My breasts are offended. They know what they are and they are not part of a Fisher Price play set.
Some of the items include very minimal and sexy bikinis and towels with phrases like "Call me" or "Kiss Me" on them. Really, now?