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Tuesday night in Brooklyn, Rihanna made an offer for the global domination of the underwear.
It took place at the Barclays Center, against a gigantic backdrop that consisted partly of stairs leading to the sky, both at the Roman Coliseum, at "Chicago" (Bob Fosse's version) and at "Laugh" -In ", with a reflective basin in the center.
He involved famous singers, famous models in small pieces of lace and stiletto heels. There was a lot of quivering choreography, twerks and sextos in the figure. The legs were pushed upward and outward. Groins were seized. Breasts and butts were armed.
There were bodies of varying shapes, heights, sizes and colors, with an assortment of thongs, bras, boxer shorts, jumpsuits, dolls and camisoles, also of many colors and sometimes draped with rhinestone chains. Some abs seemed to crack nuts. Others like a feather mattress.
Halsey sang and wore a little black dress. Laverne Cox and Normani shot in underwear. Migos, ASAP Ferg, Big Sean and DJ Khaled seemed to be modeling their own clothes.
Rihanna herself appeared on an opening number pedestal in a black bodysuit, a bra, a strategically draped micro-skirt and a lot of attitude. In the end, she reappeared in a long dress to accept the adoring applause of her people (sorry, the audience).
It was the show of Savage x Fenty.
Everything was filmed for Amazon Prime and all of the participants' phones were placed in small neoprene pouches so they could not take pictures and spoil the surprise.
The cameramen jumped on the scene and ran into the water like the renegades Pac-Men to record for posterity (or at least streaming): the moment when Savage x Fenty (not to be confused with Fenty, the fashion line that Rihanna associated with LVMH) finally crushed the mysterious Victoria's Secret under her hectic, all-inclusive feet, led by a woman.
Which did it quite well. But is it really so different? Or do we just exchange one type of sexual exploitation for another?
The surprise of the event was not so disturbing and altered. The surprise was familiar.
Rihanna has just sampled the VS game book and adapted it to her own pace – she updated the music, the action, the platform, the message and converted it into a stadium.
But make no mistake: the ingredients are the same. She even had many of the same models that worked with great enthusiasm for VS, including Gigi and Bella Hadid, Joan Smalls and Cara Delevingne.
They have just changed their allegiance and, instead of covering their hair with a big smile, they are now rubbing their hands on the body with a pout. Instead of wearing wings, they wear Cleopatra armbands. They know in what way the wind is blowing.
Last year, in his quest to justify his show, VS included videos with the models in which they talked about how they felt "dressed" and "strong" strutting in their fashionable underwear; how it gave them the property of their bodies. It made people laugh. Rihanna claims the same idea, but more convincingly and to the benefit not of a faceless society dominated by older white men, but of a young woman who has made her own success.
The question "who benefits?" Is important, especially because its sale does not discriminate by size. And maybe it's a big leap forward. But his show still bears on both male and female eyes. The difference is that, while VS women still seemed to be serving this look under its most commonplace denominators (sometimes literally, in naughty maid costumes), Rihanna's women own it, manipulate it, and crush it between their thighs.
They are not angels. They are dominatrixes and sirens. These are different roles, but they are always old. And they are always objects, even if they revel in their own voluntary objectification.
And that means that even if you have to recognize that Rihanna has scratched VS from her own playground, and even though she has rewritten many rules, it's still possible to wish that she was inspired enough to completely change the Game.
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