The Victoria’s Secret Underwear Show

“The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show” is as much a tradition of the holiday season as “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” that preceded it by a couple of hours. But it’s more in the tradition of those lingerie shows for horndog shoppers than anything vaguely Christmasey.

It would play like a big glossy hour long commercial except that it’s not exactly clear what’s for sale. Can the endless parade of increasingly elaborate costumes, with big wings and flowing capes really be there to sell the bras and panties they are also wearing? Half the time they’re obscured by bustiers, superfluous drapery or glitter.

The fierce runway marching seems to bring some selling points, since the impossibly skinny girls all seem to sport some chestflesh thanks to the push-up properties of the bras – even the ones that aren’t festooned with $2.4 million in diamonds (and the one that is? A little over done).

Visually, it’s a flashy affair. Seemingly made for HD, every bangle, stitch and feather seems to be in sharp focus. At the same time, even the very first model had to have her booty blurred because of the inadequate cover provided by the panty.

Performers are part of this event – each one of them looking frumpier than the next thanks to the gloss of the well-burnished models.

Kanye West’s droopy pants didn’t fit the place, or him; Adam Levine of Maroon 5 seemed scruffier than usual and Nicki Minaj never looked worse, attired in some awfully bulky clown garb as sleek models towered over her.

Though they were identified as the show began, the models seemed more interchangeable than ever this year, happy to turn themselves into “angels” just as Hefner’s body scouts found women eager to become bunnies. They couldn’t be happier than be part of this exploitation.

Said one, in fact: “I think it’s every girl’s dream to walk in the ‘Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show’” when in fact it’s a far more common nightmare to walk on stage in one’s underwear.

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