The XX Factor: What women really think.

What's So Funny About Pretty Panties?

Nayeli, I'm with you in favor of adorable underthings. Definitely worth the money for the personal confidence and the occasional zing in the eyes of one's date. (Someone I dated briefly liked to call me a "smartypanties.")

And yet at the same time, like Lucy and Amaka, I feel sickened by the culturewide commodification of sexuality—of intimate life and personal worth, really—especially when it's aimed at children (by which I mean anyone under 20! I'm old) who are still developing a sense of self.

As the Rolling Stones knew well, all consumer advertising peddles one basic thing: dissatisfaction. We're constantly being sold the idea that we could be happy if ... if we just fixed X problem by buying Y product. Soft-porn merchant Victoria's Secret, like Abercrombie & Fitch, is in the business of selling the belief that you should be sexier. Sure, they have a right to do it, and I even sometimes wear their underthings. But it is especially disgusting to peddle to young girls—and here I'm not targeting VS alone, but also MTV, Girls Gone Wild!, and the soft-core underage porn culture et al.—the feeling that she's really a ho in training, that her personal worth depends on arousing others' lust. That's selling the idea of being an object, not a subject—-a big difference, although sometimes hard to define.

There's a subtle line between liking to wear fancy panties ... and needing to see others drool over your bottom before you can feel worthwhile. One is powerful; the other's an eating disorder in waiting. One is finding power in enjoying yourself and your body in a mature and confident way ... and the other is a degraded manipulation of self by instincts out of whack and in thrall to others. Sometimes, of course, both are at work at once. Which is why we're having this discussion: figuring out which is which isn't so easy in the consumerized world in which we live.

There's a very odd overlap here between feminism, on the one hand, which wants women to take power without being pornified, and on the other, Christian activists who also want to resist the consumer culture's attempt to drag us around by our gonads and insecurities. At their best, both groups want to respect the individual as being more than just her body, as having a meaningful inner life. This resistance against personal degradation is also why feminists and Christian activists have a similarly uneasy alliance against sex trafficking.

I'll take any and all allies in standing up against personal commodification, whether "chosen" or forced. Christians talk about maintaining a meaningful inner life as having a relationship with God. The God-language can make some feminists gag, but I respect it—even though I don't necessarily agree with each and every one of God's self-appointed personal emissaries. Especially not when they think they know exactly what I should and shouldn't be doing with my smartypanties.

More on Sisters, Panties

I once tried to rationalize spending more than $40 on a set of unmentionables to my mother and less-fashion-inclined little sister.

"Look, if I don't have quality underwear, what else do I have?" I recall saying.

My sister told me I was being ridiculous, and that I was wasting my money. My mother suggested in no uncertain tones that the only thing my purchase would accomplish would be to secure my role as an eager-to-please trollop. "That underwear is only made to be seen," she said.

These women, whom I love dearly and who routinely purchase their undergarments in packs of 10, successfully shamed the pants off me.

I understand the source of complaints against lifestyle advertising like Victoria's Secret's, which perpetuates the idea that "sexiness" is mostly about showing off for someone else. Making purchases purely for the sake of seduction seems tacky and compliant. Futile, too, when, as my family was eager to remind me, I'm usually the only one who notices.

But that's just the point.

I'm well aware that buying into the whole "I can't live without this bra" line is completely offensive in a few very obvious ways. But honestly, I do enjoy spending money on and wearing underwear that I find appealing. And I don't think I'm being duped by advertisers. I'm a smart, successful, and informed woman who has managed to secure a disposable income, which I'll spend as I choose. I happen to enjoy knowing, privately, that beneath my day-old jeans and college sweatshirt are garments about which I'm more enthusiastic.

I suppose that if I were to press the issue with own my high-school-age sister, who is only now beginning to form opinions on the subject, I think she would agree with you, Lucy and Amaka, that sexiness is best characterized by confidence and good health. But confidence includes standing behind the consumer choices that make you happy.

As I read it, the Very Sexy campaign's demarcated punctuation speaks less to a lower standard for feminism than a greater appreciation for women who'd rather not feel sorry about dressing up for themselves.

I do agree, however, that the "Behind every very sexy woman is a Very Sexy ® Bra" catchphrase is a little off. Behind my very sexy bra is a very sexy woman. And that's not something for which I'm going to apologize. Period.

The Advertising You Can't Live Without. Period.

I'm struck by how resoundingly the death toll sounds, illustrated by the boldness of these lame advertising campaigns.

It's the "Period" addendum that gives the tagline its je ne sais quoi. Not that I am surprised, coming as it does from the same company that brought us such inventive names for their different bra lines as "Very Sexy". If the lingerie-seller's home page is any indication, in the world of VS, young college-bound girls hop off to campus wearing thigh-high rugby socks, a pair of underwear, a belly shirt ... and a cute pink hoodie. You know, because it is autumn after all, and it gets cold. So while your exposed buttocks and navel chill in the fall wind, you can be sure that you're covered from head to midstomach-ish; from toe to lower thigh. A VS girl is sexy and sensible, it seems.

I really wonder about Victoria Secret's vaguely dire world view. Take for example another VS subject line from February: "What is Sexy? ^TM ... New! Very Sexy ® Low-cut Push-up." Oh! I had been wondering what sexy was ... I thought it had something to do with confidence or being healthy. Thank you for clearing up my confusion. Question: What is sexy? Answer: You Spending Money on This Bra.^TM

If they are going to shamelessly push their wares upon my person, I'd appreciate a little more creativity. Where are the days of subversive advertising? Is it me, or is Victoria's Secret doing a really sloppy job when it comes to fooling me into thinking a $40 bra will turn me into an impossibly hot Brazilian, accent not included?

Read more "XX Factor" entries on Victoria's Secret.