Before my mass collection of Pink wear, my knowledge of Victoria’s Secret and the Angels, or models, was slim.
In retrospect, while I might have been the last of the girls to invest in a push-up bra, I’m glad that my experiences with Victoria and her secrets were limited. Because I was more or less kept in the dark, I didn’t have to deal with the onslaught of self-image struggles other girls dealt with, provoked by the airbrushed Angels.
Today, my 10-year-old sister is in the same position I was in at her age. When we’re at the mall together and I make a beeline for Victoria’s Secret, I feel her huddle closer, the looming mystery of the notorious underwear store intimidating her.
The raunchy black-and-white photos that hang from floor to ceiling seem hardly noticeable to me, but to my younger sister, they’re gigantic and shocking. When I enter the store with her, I don’t want her to feel the burden of comparison to these images.
That’s why I refuse to support the televised screening of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.I absolutely believe in buying items that might make a woman feel beautiful, but I think the experience should remain a personal one.
The televised fashion show only objectifies women in a way that leads men to expect impossible perfection from women and women to loathe their own bodies.
It might be fun to watch for the unique outfits and upbeat music, especially in a college environment, but don’t forget the show is screened to televisions outside the boundaries of East Lansing.
Little girls, such as my younger sister, watch the ridiculously skinny and done-up models strut down the runway and a thought, or perhaps a curse, is implanted — “That’s what is beautiful.”
I don’t support the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show because I support girls growing up and discovering their own definition of beautiful — whether it involves angel wings or not.