The Secret, Horrible Lives of Lingerie Models?
A smug story in today’s Thursday Styles section tries and fails to convince me that being a Victoria’s Secret Angel would be anything other than the greatest job on the planet.
Ms. Lindvall herself once shed 20 postpregnancy pounds to make angel weight by jumping rope and subsisting on nothing but spinach, chard and kale.
But she probably also took the stairs, no?
…[A]lthough she has already been anointed a Victoria’s Secret angel, [the model] was auditioning again this year because, as Ms. Mitro said, bodies do change.
“You don’t see them for a minute, and…” Ms. Mitro said and then fell silent. She held her cupped hands wide in the universal gesture for hips as broad as a barn.
But then the kale! They are, however, subjected to such cruel criticisms as:
“Lovely” [and] “Thank you for coming.”
No, thank you for coming! And then the closing lines:
Few are called, and fewer still are chosen to wear the strap-on wings of a Victoria’s Secret angel.
“The girls actually dream about it,” said Ms. Mitro, referring to the wearing of feathers. Flipping open a scrapbook, she pointed briskly to a photo of a teary model seeming to stagger under the weight of a costume that looked like something Cher might wear to a powwow.
“These,” she said, “are the wings that made her cry.”
Oh, so they’re stupid, too? Their pretty little brains/backs can’t handle the weight/pride of bearing the fancy costume? Nope! No way. Being a lingerie model means looking perfect, making lots of money, drinking champagne all the time, and having everyone always want to be around you. The four biggest dreams.
Also, it should be noted that in this article, an article about lingerie models titled “Angels in Stripper Heels” (emphasis mine), the clearest image shown is of an old man in a tie. Hats off!