Secret's Out

An iconic lingerie brand created the impossible ideal for what’s sexy. Now some women are moving on.

- Amy Odell

Picture a young Candice Bergen look-alike—gorgeous and sophisticated—lounging in a dim, velvety boudoir. She lives in London, where she runs her own design studio. She’s in her 30s and globetrots. She has the accent of her English father, and her life is informed by the lavish trips she took as a child with her French mother to Paris, Milan and New York City. This is Victoria, the imaginary creator of Victoria’s Secret. At least as corporate employees have been told over the years to envision her: a worldly woman who loves lingerie and is passionate about helping women feel sexy. Customers may not know her backstory, but they should be drawn to her glamour as they walk through the stores. She’s the reason for that sultry British accent in the brand’s commercials.

As unattainable as that life seems, the company’s public ideal may be even more out of reach. Victoria has for decades been embodied by the Angels, an elite group of contracted supermodels who have helped define the American ideal of sexiness. Their come-hither glances and sculpted bodies—which hardly vary in size and shape—have successfully seduced millions of women into turning to Victoria’s Secret by default when they need a new bra. Those anointed—a group that includes Heidi Klum, Tyra Banks and Gisele Bündchen—are among the most famous models and women in the world, recognizable to many by their first names alone.