What Do We Want In A Model? The Victoria’s Secret Dilemma

The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show has been controversial since its inception. Among its many scandals was the infamous “Perfect Body” campaign, featuring ten models posing side by side, their nearly identical thin physiques showcased by that now infamous slogan. 

The ad sparked outrage and petitions demanding its removal for promoting a “damaging message” to young women. But what was that message exactly, and why has Victoria’s Secret (VS) found itself here more than once?

To answer that, we have to understand the brand’s foundation, and the men behind it. For 36 years, Ed Razek served as Victoria’s Secret’s Chief Marketing Officer, crafting its image of sex appeal. 

Razek was repeatedly criticized for the company’s sexualized treatment of women, his dismissive comments about plus-sized and transgender models, and even his professional ties to Jeffrey Epstein.

By the time Razek stepped down in 2019, he had become emblematic of a fading era where sex appeal was defined by body size and male fantasy. The world had changed, but he hadn’t. 

The #MeToo movement pushed consumers to hold brands accountable for their associations with misogyny and exploitation, and companies like Rihanna’s Savage X Fenty offered an alternative vision where lingerie celebrated comfort and inclusivity. 

So, to return to my earlier question, the message VS sent for decades was clear: sex appeal equaled thinness. To be desirable, women had to look like the “Angels” in their windows and on their runways.

This messaging wasn’t just outdated, it was exclusionary. And while it fueled public backlash and forced the brand to cancel its iconic fashion show for six years (2019–2024), sales surprisingly didn’t plummet. After all, people still needed bras. But the market, and society, had shifted.

In order to remain relevant, VS started to offer other types of bras, like bralettes and bras without underwires; they hired athletes like Megan Rapinoe as brand ambassadors, and they started preaching that ‘body inclusivity’ was of the utmost importance to them as a brand.

But here’s where it gets complicated. Replacing women famous for their proportions with women famous for their achievements was not universally celebrated. Many loyal customers felt the brand had lost its aspirational allure, or the fantasy that once made it iconic.

As a sociology major, I find this tension fascinating. It reveals a deeper cultural contradiction: we say we want inclusivity, but we also crave aspiration. We want models to look like us, but we also want them to represent something beyond us.

So, America, I’ll ask again, what do we really want in a model? The truth is we want models with bodies that look like ours, but we also want the fantasy that fashion has always promised. The problem is that those two desires rarely coexist comfortably.

For years, VS sold the dream that wearing their lingerie could make you become the woman on the runway, but when they abandoned it for a message of empowerment and inclusivity, the fantasy blurred. 

The new image was more ethical, yes, but also less defined. What does empowerment even look like when it’s being sold to you by a billion-dollar corporation that once profited off insecurity?

This tension speaks to something bigger than Victoria’s Secret. It reflects our cultural confusion about beauty and worth. We say we want representation, but we still idolize perfection.

I wrote about the rise of GLP-1s recently, and to some extent, that piece inspired this one. I questioned why we, as a society, remain so obsessed with becoming thinner. 

Maybe it’s because, deep down, part of us still dreams of achieving the physiques of the models we grew up watching strut down the VS runway. 

But the search for a “quick fix” to change our bodies reveals something deeper about us, namely how far we’re willing to go to mold ourselves into the fantasy. Maybe what we loved about the original Angels wasn’t their attainability, but their lack of it. 

They represented a world we could never inhabit, but loved to look at anyway. In that sense, our fascination with them isn’t all that different from our obsession with fantasy films like Harry Potter. Both give us an escape, a reflection of the impossible that somehow feels close enough to reach.

So maybe the question isn’t just what makes a model, but what we expect them to model for us. Is it confidence? Desire? Authenticity? Perfection? 

Whether we crave the dream or the reality, we’re all still searching for someone, or something, to mirror back the version of ourselves we most want to believe in.

• beauty
• college
• fashion
• health
• mental health
• style