Culture

Will The ‘Fifty Shades Of Grey’ Lingerie Line Work For Target?

The point of diffusion collections is to buy one's fantasies. But will the luxury world of Fifty Shades translate to the Target market?

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E L James’s S&M erotica trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey may make for painful reading, but it’s a bona fide pop-cultural juggernaut. It dominated bestseller lists. It’s being adapted into a film, starring Charlie Hunnam and Dakota Johnson. There’s a Fifty Shades classical music album, and even an official range of sex toys (NSFW, obvz).

And announced yesterday, the Fifty Shades universe is launching a spanking new line of fancy lingerie. Like the series’ gee-golly heroine Anastasia Steele, you’ll be able to clothe your “inner goddess” in balconette bras, bustiers, bikini briefs, G-strings, suspenders and sheer chemises, in luxurious shades of powder blue, oyster, black and scarlet. (This is great news for everyone who associates the words “fifty shades of grey” with the sad, saggy, faded contents of their underwear drawer.)

But while brooding billionaire Christian Grey buys Anastasia’s designer undies via a personal shopper at the upscale American department store Neiman Marcus, the new tie-in Fifty Shades versions will be available from September 26…  at Target.

From Tie-up To Tie-in: Embodying The Books

“We’ve worked together to ensure the range encapsulates the passion of Anastasia and Christian’s love,” says author E L James. She says the collection lifts the story “off the pages and into the wardrobes of Australian women.”

For instance, Target’s pale blue ‘Affaire’ range — one of the seven in the collection — references the first set of lingerie Christian gives to Anastasia. Here’s how it appears in the book:

Oh my. A clean bra and panties – actually to describe them in such a mundane, utilitarian way does not do them justice. They are an exquisite design of some fancy European lingerie. All pale blue lace and finery. Wow. I am in awe and slightly daunted by this underwear. What’s more, they fit perfectly. But of course they do.

Later, the same underwear figures in their sex games: “I am trussed-up by my own bra,” observes Anastasia. In the sequel, Fifty Shades Darker, Christian extravagantly purchases Anastasia an entire lingerie wardrobe:

I select a black bustier corset creation with a price tag of five hundred forty dollars. It has silver trim like filigree and the briefest of panties to match. Thigh-high stockings, too, in a natural color, so fine, pure silk. Wow, they feel . . . slinky . . . and kind of hot . . . yeah.

It’s unclear whether Anastasia is getting off on the lingerie’s beauty, its textures, or the fact that it’s very expensive.

The novels are intriguing because of the pivotal role that consumer capitalism plays in Anastasia and Christian’s courtship. Sugar daddies and kept women are nothing new, of course, and fairytales have long used clothes as symbols of sexual selection: only the true princess can fit the shoe; only the magic gown can captivate the prince. And Christian is a(n improbably youthful) business tycoon, so it makes sense that he expresses himself through financial transactions. But it’s revealing of his controlling tendencies that he buys things for Anastasia, exerting his purchases upon her — heedless of her tastes — and that these gifts fit and look better than anything she would have chosen for herself.

Fifty Shades of Grey lingerie at Target 1

It’s also key to Anastasia’s submissiveness that she loves the gifts, is dazzled and aroused by them as much as she is by Christian himself. (When he’s not around, she fondles his phallic silver-grey tie.) And the more expensive Christian’s gift, the more in thrall to him she feels, as she observes in Fifty Shades Darker:

I am wearing some of my new underwear — a white lacy thong and matching bra — a designer brand with a price tag to match. I step out of my jeans and stand there for him in the lingerie he’s paid for, but I no longer feel cheap. I feel his.

The paradox of the Fifty Shades phenomenon is that many women readers identify with Anastasia, secretly craving to be dominated with sexy gifts — but at the same time they’ve driven the franchise with their own money and purchasing decisions.

Because Fifty Shades is a mass-market phenomenon, Target seems like the perfect place to sell tie-in lingerie. But the eroticised consumer world it narrates is alluring because it’s unattainable to most readers. It would hardly be as sexy if Christian was buying this stuff at Target, with a range that costs as little as $15 for a G-string and $19 for a pair of undies; it’d be an insult, a cruel statement about how little he thinks Anastasia’s worth. So will it work for the readers?

At Least For Target, It’s A Fantasy Come True

Collaborative, branded collections have been a Target mainstay since 2007, when frenzied shoppers stampeded stores to snap up Stella McCartney’s diffusion range. When they work, they’re win-win: Target can piggyback on the pre-existing appeal of popular brands and personalities; consumers can indulge their luxe fantasies without having to spend up; and the partner brands can expand their market reach without having to use their own resources.

The point of diffusion collections is buying one’s fantasies. Last year’s big news, the ‘Von Follies’ collection by burlesque performer Dita Von Teese, is a retro fantasy: an old-fashioned pin-up glamour that’s achievable for women who don’t necessarily have models’ bodies. Fifty Shades’ fantasy is about the abandonment of control, and the almost unwilling discovery of new capabilities for pleasure. And, importantly, the franchise requires its fans to suspend their sense of literary taste in pursuit of the pleasure of ‘the moment’.

The challenge of diffusion is conveying all of that in a low-end retail environment. Fictional tawdriness may be enjoyable, but in real life it’s harder to ignore. This range will be even less glamorous once it hits the clearance racks, where Dita von Teese’s remaining Follies are still half-heartedly teasing Target shoppers.

For Helen Anderson, general manager of DCI (Diamond Cut International) Corporation – the Melbourne-based lingerie manufacturer that’s producing Target’s range – evoking the Fifty Shades fantasy is all about “soft lace overlays”, “playful silk ribbons” and “sophisticated tailoring”. It might work. I’ve still got my Collette Dinnigan ‘Wild Hearts’ bra from Target’s first ever lingerie collaboration back in 2008. I bought the undies not because of their ‘designer’ origins, but because they looked more expensive than they were: finer-quality lace; more attention to detail in the trimmings.

Target can never offer the same level of lingerie luxury as, say, La Perla or Agent Provocateur. But if it aims for a kind of sleek simplicity in soft, understated fabrics, rather than the tizzy, froufrou garishness we associate with overtly sexual ‘slutty underwear’, perhaps it can look and feel ‘expensive enough’ to extend the Fifty Shades fantasy of luxury consumerism into real life.

But just as E L James has tapped into the fantasies women want to buy for themselves, it’s best to buy these undies purely for your own enjoyment.

Mel Campbell is a freelance journalist and cultural critic. She is the founding editor of online pop culture magazine The Enthusiast. Her debut book, Out of Shape: Debunking Myths about Fashion and Fit, is out now.