There. I made you look, didn’t I?
Not surprising. Victoria’s Secret has a habit of making people look. Even when they know they shouldn’t.
Perhaps I should start by explaining that I’m a rather conservative Christian gentleman. That doesn’t mean that I necessarily disapprove of Victoria’s Secret products, but it does mean I object to the posters of their models in the store windows. It’s tough to keep from staring at women who’re wearing so little—and wearing it in such interesting ways.
But I try. That’s why I try to focus on the spotted dog. I’ve finally figured out why it’s pink: embarrassment from having to keep all those underdressed poster models company.
Walking for exercise at the mall isn’t as challenging as looking the other way when I pass Victoria’s Secret. In fact, I don’t even try. But I do avoid staring. Concentrating on a model’s hair, face, or teeth helps.
But do you know I’ve observed something interesting during my many months of passing the Victoria’s Secret store twice every time I walk at the mall?
I have yet to see an African-American model in those posters. I don’t think it’s discrimination on Victoria Secret’s part, though. I prefer to think it’s because the black models have enough pride in themselves not to show off that way before the world.
Okay, you say. You get it. But what’s this about a Victoria’s Secret bathtub? Is that some secret new product?
Nope. Until just a few weeks ago, a sales display for—want to try guessing?—easy-install bathtubs occupied the middle of the hallway outside the Victoria’s Secret store. It consisted of the cleanest bathtub you could ever hope to see.
And doggoned if the display didn’t face Victoria’s Secret.
The tub area was, uh, personed by one of two kinds of salespeople. (I never saw any customers there. They probably all went inside Victoria’s Secret.)
The first group consisted of older males who probably couldn’t remember the days when their wives would have looked good in a Victoria’s Secret garment and consequently took far too much pleasure in studying the posters for hours at a time in their boredom.
The other group—I’ll try to say this as kindly as possible—was composed of younger women who needed to lose a number of pounds before they could have posed for a Victoria’s Secret poster. In all likelihood, a significant weight loss on their part would better have qualified them as poster girls for the American Family Fitness place slightly further down the hall.
Could you imagine belonging to either of those two groups and having to face those enticing—and frustrating—posters day in and day out?
Whatever company those salespeople worked for probably did their employees a favor by shutting down that kiosk. Joblessness would probably be less frustrating than growing old staring at Victoria’s Secret posters.
This post was originally going to end there, but my wife pointed out something I didn’t realize. Victoria’s Secret carries many types of clothes other than the lingerie pictured in the window. I doubt I’m the only older guy in the world who didn’t realize that.
A visit to their website left me wondering why they don’t choose to clothe the poster models in the window and put the lingerie posters inside the store.
It’s not like people don’t already know about that part of their merchandise.
If you have any comments about today’s post, please share them. My opinion isn’t the only one around, but it’s the right one. *G*
Come again on Sunday to see what this aging fellow will talk about next.