Models Candice Swanepoel and Lily Aldridge attend the Victoria's Secret Angels Celebrate Valentine's Day at Victoria's Secret event in New York last week. Photo: John Parra
Victoria's Secret, diamanté-studded purveyor of all things physically and ideologically constricting, have gifted the world a real treat this Valentine's Day. A bra that doubles as a diamond necklace, you ask? A bra that can, in actual fact, mine for diamonds entirely of its own volition? A deftly photo-shopped shoot of a fourteen year old in which the teen has no thighs yet a heaving, strangely glossy bosom? Better. Victoria's Secret have generously decoded 'woman speak' (finally!) for the less clued in men and women who may struggle with the day to day communication with their partner/love interest/colleague/friend/woman on the street.
In a video released just says before the annual day of forced, crimson-hued revelry, a handful of angels wearing lingerie in various tones of peach – and, I think, a chiffon shirt – have gathered to 'decode love'. That is, they have lifted the (chiffon) veil on communication between those in love, to reveal a festering concoction of mixed messages and women waiting to catch their partner out for missing the kernel of truth swathed in subtext. And thank God that veil has been lifted, there is no place for direct, honest communication in this ongoing narrative in which women are complicated shrews and men their dopey counterparts who don't understand what 'I'm fine' really means.
Some key tips from the peony mouths of angels;
'When I say, nobody's ever sent me flowers before, what that means for you is, 'send me two dozen of the most gorgeous, long stemmed roses.' Totally. Make it three dozen. Anything less than three dozen would be offensive and a clear indication you don't get me. And if I cast my eyes downwards at a specific angle, make it four dozen. You know what that downcast eye at the specific angle really means. And if you don't, who are you? You're wasting my time, get out.
'It's my birthday, no big deal, actually means, 'it is a big deal, surprise me with something fabulous.' Obviously. I am never going to come out and say something as embarrassing as 'it's my birthday, I'd like to do something special.' I am woman, hear me spurt manipulative sound bites, watch me pop those fat little worms on my hook and bait you, my little decoding ball of testosterone. And let this stretch to all special occasions I may ever secretly value because let it be known I am never going to be upfront about anything. It isn't my job to say what I actually want, it's my job to say the opposite and watch you fail miserably at understanding that. That's love, decoded.
'When I say, my friend, she's so pretty isn't she? What that means is 'tell me you hadn't even noticed because you only have eyes for me.' Classic. I am revoltingly envious of all of my friends and the only time I would ever say anything remotely nice about them is when I'm lying in wait for you to walk face first into my trap. My friends are not there to be nice about.
'When I say, I love you, I really mean, that I love you.' Seriously. No subtext. What an awful thing of you to assume, that 'I love you' would mean anything else other than 'I love you'. Have you learnt nothing? Yes I am casting my eyes downward at that specific angle. I'm fine. Seriously, I'm fine. Nobody's ever bought me flowers before ...