I saw a post asking what feminists’ think about the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. I first had to ask myself whether I was a feminist. In my younger days, my roommate and I answered yes in a classroom of women who answered no. A non feminist at an all women’s college?   Yes, it happens. We only felt we were feminists because we believed in a woman’s right to choose her path in life. My roommate and I both ended up having law degrees. She is a founding partner in her own firm, I am a housewife. We have chosen different paths. It is this type of feminist who answers the quandary posed by the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

When I was younger I reveled in the beauty and sexuality the show represents. The models looked like they were having fun and well; the men’s enjoyment at the parade of young, long, lanky women in underwear was obvious. Obvious to even a young wife who watched with her husband and considered which “looks” might be appealing. As I have aged, I am almost fifty; I no longer watch the show. It no longer inspires the same feeling of fun and frolic it once did. I wonder if I have lost the sexual spark the show should inspire or have I begun to see the problems in a nationally televised lingerie show? Have I become jealous or merely wise?

Jealously is not allowed. See I have one daughter who could walk the runway. I have been surrounded by young women who look better than the models for quite some time. They are beautiful. They are long, lanky and young. So young. I watch the similar young women to the girls on the runway walk into the pool and turn heads, then fight their younger sister’s over the front seat. I watch these young women handle adult jobs, and then need their “mommy” to make dinner. I see how young these women are, and how young 21 really is.

I went to a salon school to have my hair done. There I saw young women who made my daughters look like children, almost. Youth was so evident, even if children and bills were involved. These women were dealing with the challenges of adulthood, parenthood, with the attitudes shown by my children, but the responsibilities I experience. Their energy was amazing, but I shifted into my “mom” role almost immediately. I was amazed at what they had to deal with. I was amazed they could. I am not really sure they can, because see, they let me see their lives. I was “mom” and quite frankly I was afraid for them.

These are the young women who model Victoria’s Secret’s product. I believe it is because they are the only ones who can. The older models lose their joy. They look uncomfortable. You can see it on TV. They no longer exude the “good time” emotion the younger women exhibit. The men do not see it right away. I do. Who wants’ to watch a woman look uncomfortable modeling underwear? If you do enjoy the model’s discomfort, well that is an unpleasant path I do not want to pursue.

I do not want my daughter to pursue it either. As one ages one becomes aware of the multiple layers of sexual thought and enjoyment. The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show has been exploring these layers throughout the years. An old time viewer like me sees the hints of religious music, leather and lace and fantasy. I have watched the show bounce from fun to slightly odd. I have watched the models begin to look uncomfortable. I do not want to watch any longer.  I do not want to watch young women experiencing euphoria that cannot be maintained as she ages. You start to get the feeling the enjoyment is premised on ignorance, or innocence. You start to get the feeling these young women are being used.

Now let’s be realistic, these women are paid huge amounts of money to parade down the runway in next to nothing. These women are at the top of their field, modeling, and they are utilizing their beauty in the most financially productive way our culture allows. Being a Victoria’s Secret Model is a coveted position by models and mortals alike. I am looking at their real life counterparts and sometimes even at them. I watched one of the models on television soon after the fashion show. Television is supposed to put weight on an individual, but this woman looked emaciated. I had to wonder where all the men were who celebrated her sexuality? She looked freakish, her high cheek bones too prominent and her body frighteningly thin. Many women would have reveled at her appearance, and I think the TV people did. I wanted to feed her.  I wanted to contact Victoria’s Secret, which is headquartered in my town, and scream “feed her!” I chose not to.

So you see I have been seeing Victoria’s Secret in many ways for a long time. I used to go to a club where I saw the “looks” of the fashion show quite some time before the show was aired. No, I never saw wings but I saw themes, model duplicates and maybe even a model or two. I would see the seeds of the catalogues before they were ever published. I have been watching the show for a long time.

I do not want to watch any longer. I do not begrudge the basic biological truths this show represents. I do not want to stifle sexuality, especially a young woman’s sexuality. I used to be that young woman. I think a woman reveling in her own beauty is a woman exploring one of the most powerful assets she has. I just know young women are so much more. Maybe that is why I do not want to watch any longer. I do not want to see how fleeting beauty and youth really are.

I know I will still review the show when it is over. I will go through the pictures, assess the lingerie and think about the messages imparted by the show, the messages underlying the performance. I will look at the production and the fashion presented. See Fashion is my abusive boyfriend. My love, my hate. It inspires me while I absorb its message that I will never be thin enough or beautiful enough to be on the stage. Fashion is part of me. Maybe that is why I can no longer watch. I know how the relationship ends.

So my feminist perspective?  I want to take the girls to an amusement park and let them eat whatever they want. But maybe that is just the mom in me talking. Or maybe it is mom, the feminist.