Silk, Speed And Secret Fantasies: A Reluctant Man’s First Encounter With The House Of Victoria’s Secret

He would much rather have been thinking about apexes and braking points.

Instead, under the theatrical glow of Oxford Street’s neon-lit theatre of consumption, he found himself standing awkwardly inside Victoria’s Secret—a place he had only ever glimpsed in passing, filed somewhere between myth and mild embarrassment.

Dragged in by his girlfriend of five years—equal parts amused and determined—the 30-something Malaysian racing enthusiast suddenly found his world recalibrated.

Outside, London pulsed—electric buses, impatient footsteps, the hum of summer indulgence. Inside, it was softer. Warmer. A different kind of velocity.

Lace, it turns out, has its own horsepower.

The new collection—an explosion of colour and delicacy—didn’t whisper. It shimmered. The Lace Thong Panty and Lace Low-Rise Boyshort flirted with transparency, feather-light yet deliberate.

The Lacie Unlined Balconette Bra, with its architectural lift and sheer confidence, struck him as something engineered—precise, almost mechanical in its support, yet impossibly soft.

He blinked.

This wasn’t just underwear.

It was design.

His girlfriend moved with ease, fingers grazing cotton lace trims, lifting a Cotton Lace-Trim Lightly Lined Balconette Bra in a shade of electric coral. “Feel this,” she said. He did. Breathable. Gentle. Almost disarming in its comfort.

Nearby, the wireless version offered a quieter promise—ease without compromise. Then came the Cotton Lace-Waist Thong and Bikini Panty—playful, practical, yet undeniably sensual.

Sizes ranged inclusively from 32B to 38DDD, XS to XXL. Prices? Surprisingly democratic. He had expected something far more intimidating.

Instead, it felt… accessible.

That, perhaps, was the genius of Victoria’s Secret.

Founded in 1977 by Roy and Gaye Raymond, the brand began with a simple, almost subversive idea: to make lingerie shopping less awkward for men.

Ironically, it was Les Wexner who transformed it into a global empire by shifting the gaze—recentring it on women, their desires, their confidence, their power.

And what followed was legend.

The Angels.

Names that even he—detached as he was from fashion—recognised. Tyra Banks. Heidi Klum. Gisele Bündchen. Bella Hadid. Women who didn’t just wear lingerie—they commanded it.

Annual runway shows that blurred spectacle and fantasy, culminating in the mythical Fantasy Bra—million-dollar creations dripping in diamonds, rubies, and cultural fascination.

Standing there, he began to understand.

Lingerie wasn’t about seduction alone. It was storytelling.

Historically, women’s undergarments began as instruments of modesty—layers designed to conceal, to restrict. Corsetry, petticoats, the rigid architecture of control. But over centuries, something shifted. The brassiere liberated.

The bikini—named after the atomic testing site of Bikini Atoll—arrived with explosive cultural impact. Pieces like the merrywidow fused structure with allure.

Lingerie evolved into something else entirely.

A choice.

An expression.

And here, in this vivid summer collection, that evolution felt complete. The colour palette—sunset pinks, ocean blues, citrus bursts—mirrored the high-energy optimism of the season.

Fabrics balanced delicacy with wearability: lace that breathed, cotton that caressed, silhouettes that moved with the body rather than against it.

His girlfriend stepped out of the fitting room in the Lacie Cami layered over matching lace—effortless, radiant, quietly powerful.

He didn’t look away.

Not out of discomfort this time, but curiosity. Appreciation. Something deeper.

For years, this world had felt off-limits—taboo, even. A private universe he wasn’t meant to understand. But here, amid the soft lighting and unapologetic femininity, that barrier dissolved.

He saw what it meant.

Confidence, tailored in lace.

Desire, shaped with intention.

And perhaps most surprisingly—a kind of engineering he could respect.

As they stepped back into the London evening, shopping bag in hand, the city felt different. Or maybe he did.

On the flight to Jerez, between race notes and track maps, his mind drifted—not to engines, but to textures. Colours. The quiet power of something designed not for the world to see, but for the wearer to feel.

And for the first time, he understood why it mattered.

Because sometimes, the most compelling performance isn’t on the track.

It’s the one you carry beneath it all.

The new lace lingerie and intimate wears collection is available now at Victoria’s Secret stores and Victoriassecret.com.

*Photos courtesy of Victoria’s Secret.