Victoria's Secret Fashion Show Recap: Angels Go Gaga

Inside the hallowed dome of the Grand Palais, a runway glitters. It’s way too much glitter. Nobody cares. Outside: Angels arrive for the papa-paparazzi and begin to flutter about the boulevards, scattering very sexy vibes and spare Swarovski crystals in their wakes. They wave for selfies as the Eiffel Tower stands proud behind them, fully erect and ready for action.

Welcome to Angels Go Gaga, a six-act pleasure play of spirit and feathers. Ooh la la!

Related: Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show 2016 By the Numbers

“For models, Paris is a rite of passage, the city where dreams can become reality,” says a voiceover. “Now, the greatest fashion show on Earth is here.” In other words: Victoria’s Secret paid Paris a lot of money, and Paris agreed to look the other way. Merci, Paris.

But let’s be honest: lofty French status aside, the Angel Zone — an alternate reality in which tiny tall women bloom in color and everyone else fades into black — offers pretty much the same fare as ever: contoured boobs, confusing boots, and Angels who can support structures that weigh more than they do, due to abs of steel and legs for days. No one needs these tiny-talls to dress as a turkey setting off fireworks or a sombrero-mirrorball hybrid. They just do it. Because they’re Angels.

Sure, some look shell-shocked as they try to figure out what a Chinese dragon, a confetti haystack, and a butterfly-crowned blanket monster have in common, not to mention what exactly VS has in mind for the future by naming this first act “Road Ahead.” But do any of us really know what’s up?

Skeleton arms. That’s what’s up.

Eh, might as well make like Jasmine Tookes and just roll with it, darts and all.

Veteran Angel Adriana Lima, reigning expert on selling nonsense, is always a sight for sore eyes.

Alessandra Ambrosio, too. “Whatever!” says her body as her costume screams “I DON’T KNOW!”

Gigi Hadid remains slyly above it all, as usual.

Even Kendall Jenner’s pretending to have fun — and wouldn’t you, if your first-timer Angel wings were the biggest and fluffiest in the road ahead?

Next up: a legend enters the scene. It’s Lady Gaga, a self-proclaimed “more unique and reveled angel,” God’s gift to humanity and bedazzled underpants. No one would believe you if you said “I watch the VS Fashion Show for the musical performances” — but in this case, “Million Reasons” really is worth it.

Act 2 is called “Mountain Romance,” so it’s going to be romantic, floral, maybe a little dramatic — but classy, very classy.

Ha! As if.

The less-reveled Angels keep trickling in, one crime against elegance after another. They’re giving Gaga a million reasons to quit the show, but she’s getting paid too much to run for the hills now. Better to stay firmly in the Angel Zone, where the heels are alive with the sound of pure, uncut, 100% inexplicable alpine sparklebarf.

Oh, she’ll be back.

Act 3 is “Pink Nation,” starring Bruno Mars performing “Chunky” in his crazy fur coat.

Never to be outdone in volume, the Angels strike back.

They swarm by, a vaguely bored-looking gaggle of bubble gum-flavored stocking stuffers tied up in bows and toilet paper streamers. The word “PINK” seems important, but in the midst of chaos, you can’t be sure. (Many of the “shirts” are cut off just above the breasts.) There are beanies. Sheer sweatpants. Stuffed dogs. Platform heels that look just like sneakers.

Yikes. Okay, kids, branded pajama party’s over. We must make way now for the much more glamorous adults. It’s time for Act 4, “Secret Angel,” starring The Weeknd and his ex-girlfriend, Bella Hadid.

She stares at him forlornly, a tiny-tall Madonna in steely gray eveningwear. Underwear? Who can even tell anymore? Why should there be a difference?

Here we have the biggest bombshell of all: Adriana Lima, whose costume somehow encapsulates Santa, his reindeer, a fir tree, and the possibility of intense existential moodiness given the storm cloud held just at bay. It’d be perfect for unwrapping gifts on Christmas morning with the family. No one can possibly get enough of this queen’s perfectly timed “Who, me?” facial expressions and other dignified Angelic ridiculata.

Her secret? She knew you were looking. Shhhh. Don’t tell.

Secrets keep unspooling; the insanity continues. Someone is wearing pants, which is just unheard of. Fruit Roll-Ups and Latex rule the jacket scene. At least everyone’s wearing condoms, that’s good.

Something very important is missing from this garment — or is it the other way around? It’s almost like the bra, not the Angel, is wearing the jacket. The bra needs room to breathe. Whereas Angels, well, they don’t need anything. They’re magic.

Why can’t we all get our wings? the TV audience sighs as another Angel goes up in ethereal smoke. It’s a blue dream for the ages. Pass the munchies.

Act 5: “Dark Angels.” Lady Gaga’s back, singing “A-Yo” and “John Wayne” like a rock star, and the models might be getting hungry.

Or maybe it’s just me, because I can see their wings made of sugar-spun candy and they can’t. Classic Angel conundrum.

Joan Smalls looks fierce, but seems fed up with all her tiny-tall lookalikes. Clearly someone needs to step up her game…

…and then it happens: Lady Gaga swoops in, a whirl of feathers and figures. As if her “Joanne”-inspired hat (adorned with 45,700 Swarovski crystals but no more, because that’d be tacky) hadn’t already stolen the show, her jacket whooshes up to reveal… POP-UP WINGS!!! She struts up the runway in 10-inch heels, now with a new, more focused mission: to inspire more girls than ever to buy gilded push-up bras. The transformation is complete. She’s gone full Angel.

Only Nick Cannon, wearing a pink turban too bright for even this runway, seems to disapprove. Stay out of it, Nick Cannon.

“I need security with the Fantasy Bra,” a disembodied voice urges all of us, and so it is settled, and we vow that we will buy it. Small caveat, though: This two-pack of sparkly golf balls costs $3 million.

Woof. No thanks. Much like the tousled hair of the tiny-talls, Act 6 — “Bright Night Angel” — is in full swing, with Bruno Mars projecting “24K Magic” onto any surface not already glistening with carats. Here’s the classic VS menu we all know and love/tolerate: sequins, fringe, and sequined fringe.

All three major eye candy groups, and just a tiny bit of flesh, are covered. All is well.

Rather abruptly, Angels Go Gaga is over. The stars saunter out for their curtain call, VS’s new leading lady out in front in a bespoke PINK-free getup. She has slayed the swans, and they love her for it.

“PIZZA!” yells Alessandra, probably, and so we all move on to the next pie in the sky.

Happy holidays, everyone!

XOXO,
The Fringe Fairy