Romee Strijd Says Victoria’s Secret Rejection Came With a Plot Twist: “You Were Already Released”
The former Angel thought she was still waiting on an answer. Victoria’s Secret says she had been formally released from casting weeks earlier, turning one runway snub into a very awkward industry game of telephone.
There is rejection, and then there is rejection with a completely different version of events attached.
Romee Strijd, the Dutch model who walked the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show from 2014 through 2018, has revealed that she was not selected for the 2026 show. That alone would be a headline: a former Angel, a familiar face from one of the brand’s most recognizable eras, not making the comeback runway many fans might have expected.
But the real drama arrived in the explanation. According to Strijd, she believed she was still waiting for clarity during the casting process. Then, she says, she was told by her modeling agency that she had already been “released.” Victoria’s Secret, meanwhile, says the brand and casting director Piergiorgio Del Moro had formally released her from the process on September 6 — and that the message was sent directly to her representation.
Which leaves Romee standing in the most fashion-industry-specific nightmare imaginable: not just being turned down, but apparently finding out that the people handling the news may have been working from a different script.
The former Angel who thought the door was still open
Strijd’s history with Victoria’s Secret makes the moment feel more loaded than a standard model casting update. She was part of the show between 2014 and 2018, when the production was still operating as a major pop-culture event rather than merely another stop on the fashion calendar. In 2018, she was chosen to wear the Shooting Star Swarovski look during the finale section — the kind of high-glam placement that permanently associates a model with the brand’s visual mythology.
So when Strijd spoke about the 2026 casting, she was not presenting herself as a stranger hoping for a lucky break. She was talking about a former face of the franchise trying to understand whether there was still a place for her in its latest chapter.
In a video posted to social media earlier in the week, Strijd said she had asked whether there was a specific reason she was not cast because she would have appreciated more explanation. The answer, as she relayed it, was: “You were already released.”
Her frustration was not framed as a tantrum over losing a runway spot. It was about the time and uncertainty wrapped around the process. Strijd said she had been asking IMG for an update during the preceding weeks and noted that, with two children and a family to run, the casting process demanded a meaningful amount of her time.
That detail gives the story its sting. Fashion loves to package rejection as mystique — a model simply appears, disappears, and lets the clothes do the talking. Strijd’s comments pulled the curtain back on the less glamorous part: calendars, agency updates, unanswered questions and the professional cost of being left hanging.
Victoria’s Secret has a different version of the timeline
Victoria’s Secret responded through a representative, who told Vanity Fair that Strijd “holds an important place” within the brand and that it deeply values her long relationship with the company and her career dedication.
Then came the key clarification: the brand said Victoria’s Secret and casting director Piergiorgio Del Moro communicated directly with Strijd’s representation and formally released her from casting on September 6.
The statement carefully kept the focus on the agency pipeline rather than contradicting Strijd’s account of how the news reached her. “While we cannot speak to the communications between talent and representation,” the representative said, “Victoria’s Secret values and respects all talent partners—past, present and future.”
It is a polished corporate statement, but it also quietly relocates the awkwardness. From the brand’s perspective, the process was completed. From Strijd’s perspective, the process apparently did not feel completed because she was still trying to get an update. Both things can exist at once, which is exactly why this is more interesting than a basic “model rejected from fashion show” story.
The phrase “formally released” is doing particularly elegant work here. It sounds definitive, administrative and very finished. Strijd’s version sounds more human: she was asking questions, waiting for information and then learning that the decision had supposedly already been made. Somewhere between those two descriptions is an industry communication gap with excellent headline instincts.
Strijd is closing the chapter, even if the runway keeps moving
Strijd said she was fine with the rejection itself and ended her video on a notably restrained note. She said she believed the show would be good, called the situation a closed chapter and added that she did not think she would go through casting again in the future because she disliked how the process unfolded and how she felt treated.
That is a very different energy from publicly burning down the brand. She did not dismiss the show or pretend her history with Victoria’s Secret meant she was automatically entitled to a place in the lineup. Instead, she separated the outcome from the experience. Not getting cast was one thing. Being unclear about where she stood was another.
And that distinction matters for a brand still trying to make every runway appearance feel like an event. A former Angel discussing the behind-the-scenes mechanics of not making the cut is an accidental reminder that the fantasy is built on a highly practical machine — casting directors, agencies, deadlines and decisions that have to travel through several layers before they reach the person whose career is directly affected.
Strijd’s comments also put a slightly surreal spin on the usual comeback narrative. Fashion audiences love a return: the familiar model, the archive reference, the face from a previous era reappearing under new lighting. But nostalgia does not guarantee access. A past association can make a rejection feel more dramatic, while the business itself may already be moving in another direction.
For now, Strijd says she wants to keep the positive memories, which is probably the most gracious exit available after a process that left her asking who knew what, and when. Victoria’s Secret says she was formally released weeks before the show. Strijd says she was told a version of that only after seeking an explanation.
The runway will go on. The more revealing question is whether anyone in the agency group chat realized the chapter had ended before Romee did.
Elizabeth Hurley and Billy Ray Cyrus Just Turned a Giant Ring Into Their Loudest Love Song Yet
The English bombshell and country star are reportedly engaged after a year-plus romance, with Hurley flashing a serious sparkler and her son Damian cheering from the comments.
Some couples announce an engagement with a carefully lit portrait, a tasteful paragraph and perhaps one strategically placed champagne flute. Elizabeth Hurley and Billy Ray Cyrus appear to have chosen a different genre: the enormous ring reveal, the suspiciously on-theme country song and a family member reacting like the group chat has just been handed a live grenade.
Hurley and Cyrus are reportedly engaged after more than a year together, according to Page Six, and the actress-model has already given the internet the most important visual aid in any celebrity romance: a very large, very sparkly ring sitting on her finger in a recent Instagram carousel. The ring appears on slide two, because apparently even an engagement announcement needs a little editorial pacing.
There has been no formal wedding date dropped, and the pair have not publicly laid out a detailed proposal story. But the ring is doing plenty of talking. So is Cyrus, in his own extremely Billy Ray way.
The ring has entered the chat
Hurley’s Instagram post is the kind of glamorous soft-focus moment that makes a celebrity relationship feel instantly more official, even when the caption itself is not screaming, “We’re engaged!” The star showed off the sparkling ring in a recent carousel, turning a familiar social-media format into a tiny romantic cliffhanger. Scroll, scroll, slide two: plot development.
It is a very Hurley announcement. She has long understood the value of a beautiful image that gives the audience just enough information to start doing the rest of the work. The ring is prominent. The timing is notable. The result is a celebrity-news ecosystem collectively leaning toward the screen and saying, “Wait, is that what we think it is?”
In this case, Page Six reports that it is. The scale of the stone has also made the engagement feel less like a private update accidentally spotted online and more like a full-glam entrance. No tiny band hiding beneath a coat sleeve here. This is a ring with main-character energy.
Hurley and Cyrus first went public as a couple on Easter Sunday in 2025, after beginning their relationship that year. Since then, their pairing has remained one of those wonderfully unexpected celebrity combinations that seems designed to make people pause mid-scroll. She is the English screen siren with the famously polished, bombshell-friendly Instagram presence. He is the country singer whose family name carries its own sprawling pop-culture weather system. Together, they have the odd-couple sparkle of a romantic comedy that knows exactly how good the poster looks.
Then Billy Ray added a soundtrack
While Hurley supplied the ring, Cyrus supplied the musical subtext. On Thursday, he shared a post using Mark Collie’s “Something with a Ring to It” as the audio. Subtle? Not particularly. Effective? Extremely.
He also included an engagement-ring emoji toward the end of his caption, which is less a coy hint than a digital wink from someone who knows the audience is already watching. The sequence has all the ingredients of a modern celebrity reveal: one person posts the glamour shot, the other adds the audio cue, and everyone else becomes an unpaid social-media detective for approximately six hours.
There is still no word in the source on exactly when Cyrus proposed, which leaves the proposal itself offstage. That may be the only quiet part of the story. The public-facing rollout, however, is delightfully legible: Hurley’s hand, Cyrus’s song choice, and a ring emoji placed where the internet could not possibly miss it.
That is the particular language of celebrity romance now. The announcement is not always a single statement. Sometimes it is a sequence of objects and gestures: a carousel slide, a lyric, an emoji, a comment from somebody close enough to make the whole thing feel real. The audience is invited to connect the dots, but the dots are wearing couture.
Damian has apparently given the romance his blessing
One especially sweet detail comes from Hurley’s son, Damian. Cyrus’s post drew a celebration smile emoji from Damian, who is clearly not treating the news like a shocking family plot twist. It is a small reaction, but it gives the engagement a warmer shape than the usual celebrity spectacle.
Damian has grown up in the public eye alongside his mother, and his response lands as a sign that this relationship exists beyond the ring-and-red-heart portion of Instagram. The emoji is not a long statement, and it does not need to be. In the social-media grammar of the moment, it reads as enthusiastic family support—brief, visible and perfectly timed.
It also helps explain why this pairing has continued to attract attention. Hurley and Cyrus are not presenting themselves as a random red-carpet collision or a one-weekend vacation flirtation. They have reportedly been together for more than a year, and the relationship has been connected to a shared love of the countryside—Tennessee for Cyrus, England for Hurley. That detail makes the match feel less like a celebrity algorithm accident and more like a very picturesque lifestyle merger.
Picture the mood: English country glamour meets Tennessee ease, with a substantial diamond somewhere in the middle. It is not exactly low-key, but it does have a coherent aesthetic.
A very glamorous next chapter
The engagement arrives at a moment when celebrity couples increasingly use Instagram as both announcement platform and visual campaign. A post can be romantic, promotional and headline-ready all at once. Hurley’s carousel gives fans the image they want, while Cyrus’s music choice gives the moment a punchline. Neither has needed to publish a lengthy explanation. The ring has already done the press tour.
For Hurley, the news adds another sparkling chapter to a public life built around glamour, wit and a strong instinct for the camera. For Cyrus, it marks a new romantic milestone after a period of intense public attention around his family and career. The source does not suggest that the couple has revealed wedding plans yet, so the next big question remains gloriously unanswered: will this be a countryside ceremony, a celebrity spectacle, or something that somehow combines English gardens with Nashville energy?
For now, the couple is enjoying the exact kind of announcement that keeps the internet busy without requiring a press conference. Hurley has the ring. Cyrus has the song. Damian has supplied the approving emoji. The rest of us have been given just enough sparkle to start imagining the wedding mood board.
And if the engagement ring is any indication, understated probably will not be on the guest list.
The Celebrity Nanny Confession Era Is Here—and Kim Kardashian Is Running a Five-Person Rotation
From Kylie Kelce’s 9-to-5 caregiver to Cardi B’s $10,000-a-month driver, famous parents are finally saying the quiet part out loud: the village is on payroll.
Celebrity parenting has entered its logistics era. Not the soft-focus version with matching pajamas, artisanal lunchboxes and a caption about soaking up every second. The real version: calendars, school runs, night shifts, drivers, tutors, family members, backup plans and at least one person who knows where the emergency wipes are.
Kylie Kelce recently offered the most disarmingly practical update yet, explaining that she and Jason Kelce have one nanny for their four daughters—and that the arrangement is deliberately limited to something close to regular work hours. No live-in setup. No mysterious all-day presence. No suggestion that a hired caregiver should somehow replace the parents. Just a professional in the household, helping two very busy adults keep the wheels on.
“We do have a nanny,” Kylie said on Michelle Obama and Craig Robinson’s IMO podcast, adding that they “couldn’t do it without her.” The line landed because it was both obvious and still weirdly radical. A family with four children, two podcasts, a former NFL player’s new broadcasting career and a nationwide level of public attention might require help? What a plot twist.
Kylie Kelce’s childcare plan is less scandal, more depth chart
The Kelces have described their household in the language of football because, frankly, the numbers demand a formation. Their daughters Wyatt, Elliotte, Bennett and Finnley range from school age to toddlerhood. Kylie has her own podcast, Jason has New Heights with his brother Travis, and his post-Eagles life now includes ESPN work. Their parents also help: Jason’s parents, Ed and Donna Kelce, are part of the family support system, while Kylie’s parents live about 15 minutes away.
That detail matters. The nanny is not presented as a lone superhero swooping in to raise four kids while the adults pursue careers. She is one part of a network that includes grandparents, parents and paid care. Kylie said she and Jason did not want someone “raising our kids void of us,” which is a very specific boundary—and one many working parents will recognize, famous or not.
It is also a pointed rejection of the fantasy that a good parent should need no assistance. The Kelces are not confessing to a parenting failure. They are describing a staffing model. Somewhere, a spreadsheet is wearing a tiny Eagles jersey.
Kim Kardashian has turned the village into a rotating roster
Kim Kardashian’s setup is the more maximalist version. According to The Times, Kardashian said she has five caregivers on rotation so at least one is available for her children, North, Saint, Chicago and Psalm. Five sounds like a lot until you place it beside the rest of her life: SKIMS, reality television, legal ambitions, public appearances and a schedule that does not respect the traditional boundaries of “office hours.”
What makes the admission pop is the detail that comes immediately after it. Kardashian also said she still reads books with her children every night and lets them sleep in her bed when they want. The point is not that a celebrity mother can outsource everything except the sentimental highlights. It is that caregiving is not a single task with one employee attached to it. It is a shifting system, and the person at the center can still be deeply present without doing every handoff herself.
For years, famous women have been expected to perform a bizarre double act: be visibly ambitious, then reassure everyone that ambition has not cost them a single bedtime, appointment or emotional milestone. Kardashian’s five-person rotation punctures that performance. It says the quiet part in a way only Kardashian really can: yes, the operation is enormous; yes, there are multiple people involved; no, that does not erase the mother.
The nanny discourse is really about who gets to admit they need help
Khloé Kardashian learned this earlier, when a critic accused her of being unable to go anywhere without her nanny. Her response was less apology than boundary-setting: she said she could go wherever she chose and that she treated the people working in her home like family. She also described bringing her nanny along to outings such as the farmers market because the relationship was part of the household’s everyday life.
Chrissy Teigen has made a similar point, saying she hates pretending that she and John Legend manage their family entirely on their own. Their household has had daytime, nighttime and weekend help. Tina Fey, meanwhile, wrote in Bossypants that calling her full-time nanny a “babysitter” was an attempt to make the arrangement sound less privileged than it was. Her explanation— that the word “nanny” triggered class and race anxiety—remains one of the sharper celebrity observations about the social performance wrapped around domestic labor.
The discomfort is not really about whether wealthy parents have help. Everyone knows they do. The discomfort comes from saying it plainly, because celebrity culture has spent decades selling motherhood as a private endurance sport. The less visible the labor, the easier it is to pretend the glamorous woman on the red carpet simply glides home and handles everything before breakfast.
Then there is Cardi B’s household economy
Cardi B took the conversation from broad acknowledgment to line-item accounting in a 2025 social media clip. Before her youngest child arrived, she detailed expenses including private school, tutoring, piano, gymnastics, boxing, a personal chef and a driver on a $10,000 monthly retainer. She said her cousin babysat her older children for $3,000 a week, while a daytime nanny was paid $500 per shift.
That was not a polished “my village” statement. It was closer to opening the family budget and letting the internet stare at the totals. But it made the same underlying point as Kylie Kelce’s podcast appearance: childcare is work, and at a certain level of fame, it becomes a full household infrastructure.
Katy Perry once described choosing not to have a full-time nanny because she wanted to know how to care for her daughter herself, even while performing a Las Vegas residency. Erin Andrews has spoken about the pressure to make motherhood look effortless, and about how important it is to admit that daycare, relatives, church groups and professional caregivers all count as help. Those are different arrangements, but they orbit the same anxiety: the fear that needing support will be interpreted as loving less.
Maybe the more interesting celebrity-parenting flex now is not pretending to do it alone. It is knowing exactly who is on the roster, what their hours are and which person can step in when the toddler, the podcast, the playoff schedule and the school calendar all collide. The fantasy was never that famous parents had no help. The fantasy was that help somehow did not count.