I have decided we are being too hard on Victoria’s Secret for wanting women to be flirty again. In fact, it might be the only thing standing between us and a recession.
I was having an off-the-record cortado with a former Fed governor last Tuesday when the subject naturally turned to mall lingerie. We were discussing the softening retail print, as one does, when the news crossed the wire: Victoria’s Secret is overhauling its flagging Pink brand by abandoning years of inclusive, comfort-driven messaging to simply make women feel “bold and flirty” again. My companion sighed, stirring his foam. “Finally,” he whispered. “A C-suite with the courage to lead.”
Let me be clear. We have spent the last half-decade pretending that the American consumer wants brands to have a moral compass, a carbon-neutral footprint, and a gentle, affirming color palette. But the data doesn’t lie. When sales slip, you don’t need a manifesto on body positivity. You need a neon green push-up bra and velour sweatpants that announce your arrival from the rear. For years, the board at Victoria’s Secret forgot their core competency, assuming their total addressable market wanted to be respected. A rookie mistake. When you are selling deeply unnecessary garments to teenagers with disposable income from a part-time lifeguarding job, respect is a low-margin play. Insecurity, offset by a sudden rush of synthetic flirtatiousness? That prints cash.
Look at the broader macro environment. Jerome Powell can manipulate basis points until he’s blue in the face, but monetary policy alone cannot stimulate the visceral animal spirits of the American middle class. True economic velocity requires young women pacing the linoleum of a Westfield mall, aggressively holding a sequined dog mascot, feeling a distinct sense of unearned confidence. You cannot model that in a quarterly earnings report, but it is the invisible engine of our GDP.
I reached out to my network to confirm my thesis, and the street is already pricing in the return to unapologetic mall-rat aesthetics.
The transition from ‘you are valid just as you are’ back to ‘you could be hotter if you bought this rhinestone halter’ is a massive unlock for our total addressable market.
Brent gets it. The best founders I know understand that comfort is the enemy of scale. During my time building a B2B supply chain logistics platform in the mid-2010s, we faced a similar crisis of identity. We tried to make our freight-tracking dashboard “empowering” and “gentle on the eyes.” Churn skyrocketed. It was only when we pivoted to making our logistics managers feel bold, flirty, and slightly insecure about their load-bearing capacities that we unlocked our Series B. We didn't use rhinestones, but the principle was identical. We engineered a UX that subtly implied the user would be sexier if they expedited the shipping pallets. Human nature scales. Empathy does not.
Look at the broader retail landscape. The direct-to-consumer darlings that championed “real bodies” and “authentic comfort” are currently burning through their runway faster than a match in a synthetic lace factory. The market is demanding a return to artifice. When I spoke on a panel in Davos last month about the future of global supply chains, I noted that the next supercycle wouldn't be driven by AI, but by the relentless, unyielding demand for push-up technology. Half the room laughed. The other half—the ones managing sovereign wealth funds—took notes.
It is a harsh truth, but one the market is finally waking up to. We traded the aggressive vitality of a bedazzled zip-up hoodie for beige, wire-free bralettes that whispered, “the world is ending, please just be comfortable in your apartment.” You cannot build a growth trajectory on existential dread. You build it on the aspirational delusion that Tuesday night at the local Applebee's might turn into a VIP experience if your loungewear is sufficiently provocative.
If we want to avoid a hard landing in Q4, we need corporate leadership willing to look consumers in the eye and tell them they need a glittery body mist named “Midnight Coconut” to function in society. I, for one, am bullish on the return of the deeply frivolous. It is time we admitted that the only thing standing between us and an economic collapse is a college sophomore buying a thong with a collegiate block-letter logo. I'm buying the dip, and frankly, I recommend Powell does the same.