Jasmine Tookes Is Not Letting One Heavy-Wings Clip Rewrite Her Victoria’s Secret Runway Moment
A viral backstage-ish snippet made it look like the model was battling her angel wings. Tookes would like everyone to watch the actual walk.
There are two kinds of Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show footage: the kind that makes everyone look impossibly polished, and the kind that reminds you the angels are, in fact, carrying several pounds of theatrical hardware while trying to hit their marks in heels.
Jasmine Tookes has now found herself starring in the second category. A clip from the 2026 show began circulating after she was heard saying the wings she had just worn were “so heavy,” prompting the internet to frame the moment as a tiny runway survival thriller. The caption on one Instagram video went further, claiming Tookes looked like she was “fighting for her life.”
Her response was less fashion-world meltdown, more please-watch-the-whole-thing.
“Oh my god lol,” Tookes commented under the video on Oct. 18. “This is awful..you caught me on the way back when i was almost off the stage…” She added, “Gave it my all going to the camera if you watch the real show.”
Translation: the internet caught the exhale, not the performance. A dangerous mistake when the performance involves giant pink angel wings, a multicolored bikini look and a runway built for maximum spectacle.
The wings were enormous. The walk was still working.
Tookes appeared in a look that paired a multicolored bikini with a sequined magenta cover-up over her bottom half and a set of oversized, tinsel-covered pink wings. They were not delicate little feather accessories designed to disappear into the background. They were the kind of wings that arrive before you do, announce themselves to the room and probably require their own transportation plan.
That is precisely why the clipped moment had such a satisfying internet life. The Victoria’s Secret show is engineered around fantasy: glossy lighting, famous faces, lingerie, pop-star energy and enough sparkle to make ordinary physics feel vaguely optional. Then someone says, essentially, these things are heavy, and suddenly the fantasy gets a backstage pass.
Tookes, though, was not presenting the moment as a disaster. She was explaining the edit. According to her comment, the footage caught her near the end of the runway, on her way back and almost off the stage. The part she wanted viewers to see was the walk toward the camera, where she said she “gave it my all.”
And she did return to the runway later in the show, appearing in an all-white lingerie look beneath a beaded cover-up. Whatever strain the wings may have caused, they did not end her evening—or her willingness to do another look in front of a room full of cameras.
Her post-show mood was champagne, not crisis
After the show, Tookes shared a far more celebratory update to her Instagram Stories. “You guys I’m so happy!!!” she wrote on Oct. 18, promising to share “so many fun moments tomorrow.” Then came the most convincing post-runway punctuation imaginable: “Time for some champagne. LOVE YOU ALL.”
She followed with: “What a show.”
That is a very different energy from the dramatic caption attached to the circulating clip. The internet loves a split-second of visible effort because effort is usually edited out of fashion fantasy. But Tookes’ own follow-up makes clear that she experienced the night as a triumph, not a near miss. The wings may have been heavy; the mood was light.
There is also something refreshingly old-school about the whole episode. A model wears an outrageous costume, survives the runway, says something candid offstage and gets turned into a meme before the glitter has even settled. The modern twist is that she can now jump into the comments and provide her own director’s commentary.
The show was a reunion, with a few conspicuous absences
Tookes was part of a particularly loaded Victoria’s Secret lineup that included Gigi Hadid, Bella Hadid, Adriana Lima, Alessandra Ambrosio, Candice Swanepoel, Behati Prinsloo, Kylie Jenner, Megan Thee Stallion, Tate McRae, Irina Shayk, Ashley Graham, Paloma Elsesser, Alex Consani and plenty more names familiar to anyone who has ever watched a runway clip turn into a group chat event.
That combination gave the 2026 show the feel of both a comeback and a family reunion: longtime Victoria’s Secret veterans sharing the stage with newer stars, musicians and high-visibility fashion names. Tookes, who has become closely associated with the brand’s most glamorous runway era, fit neatly into that continuity while still giving the night a moment that belonged entirely to her.
But one notable veteran was missing. Miranda Kerr, who made her Victoria’s Secret debut two decades ago and last walked for the brand in 2012, said in a Sept. 17 Instagram post that she had been invited to return. She ultimately decided it was right to “cherish this chapter as it was,” describing the old era with gratitude and sending love to the cast of the new show.
Kerr’s absence and Tookes’ wing-related mini-drama landed on opposite sides of the same fashion conversation. One model chose to preserve a chapter by leaving it in the past. Another stepped into a pair of famously excessive wings, walked the runway, and then had to explain that the unglamorous bit at the end was not the whole story.
Let Jasmine have the last word—and the camera moment
The appeal of the clip is obvious. It punctures the polished mythology just enough to make the spectacle feel human. Models get tired. Costumes are heavy. Even an angel has to make it to the end of the stage.
But the more interesting part is Tookes refusing to let the most awkward three seconds become the headline. She did not deny that the wings were heavy. She simply objected to the idea that a candid comment on the way offstage represented her entire performance.
In a world where every glamorous appearance can be reduced to a reaction gif before the official photos are even posted, that distinction matters. Watch the full runway, she suggested. Look at the walk that came before the sigh. Notice the confidence, the staging and the fact that she carried the look all the way to the camera.
The wings were heavy. The moment was funny. The show went well. And Jasmine Tookes, having completed the assignment in pink tinsel and sequins, would like her highlight reel back.
The Victoria’s Secret After-Party Turned West Hollywood Into One Giant Celebrity Group Chat
Bella Hadid, Tate McRae, Irina Shayk, Alix Earle, Behati Prinsloo and a full supporting cast took the runway energy to The Bird Streets Club.
The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show may have ended when the last model left the runway, but Los Angeles was clearly not ready to turn the lights on. After the 2026 spectacle, the angels and their extended celebrity orbit relocated to The Bird Streets Club in West Hollywood, where the guest list became less fashion week seating chart and more “who did everyone text after the show?”
Bella Hadid was there. So were Irina Shayk, Behati Prinsloo, Vittoria Ceretti, Ashley Graham, Cindy Bruna and Alex Consani. Tate McRae, who performed during the lingerie spectacular, joined the after-hours migration alongside Alix Earle, Livvy Dunne, Amelia Gray Hamlin, Delilah Belle Hamlin, Landon Barker, Tyga, Diplo and plenty more familiar faces.
In other words: one runway, several generations of celebrity, a handful of internet-native stars and enough model-off-duty energy to make a normal Los Angeles night feel aggressively underdressed.
The runway was only the opening act
There is a particular kind of celebrity event where the party afterward becomes more culturally legible than the main event. The runway gives everyone a shared backdrop: lights, music, lingerie, choreographed entrances and the official gloss of a major fashion production. The after-party is where the categories blur.
That is exactly what happened here. Models who had just walked the show ended up in the same late-night frame as singers, creators, athletes, DJs and reality-adjacent social stars. McRae moved from performer to party guest. Earle and Quenlin Blackwell represented the creator economy’s front row-to-after-hours pipeline. Livvy Dunne brought sports-world visibility into the mix. Tyga, Diplo and Landon Barker supplied the music-industry connective tissue.
It is not simply a guest list. It is a map of how celebrity works now: runway names, pop names, social names and people famous for being adjacent to other famous people all sharing the same flashbulbs. The old velvet rope has become less of a barrier than a networking diagram.
And because the event took place at The Bird Streets Club, the setting did some of the storytelling before anyone even appeared in a photograph. West Hollywood after midnight is practically its own genre. Add a Victoria’s Secret production, a room full of models and several people whose outfits are likely to be screenshotted before breakfast, and the whole thing starts to feel less like an after-party than a live update from the celebrity ecosystem.
Bella, Irina and Behati brought the headline names
Bella Hadid and Irina Shayk are the sort of names that make a fashion gallery feel instantly major. Their presence gives the night its supermodel voltage, while Behati Prinsloo adds another layer of Victoria’s Secret history to the room. Ashley Graham, Cindy Bruna and Vittoria Ceretti keep the fashion credentials firmly in place, and Alex Consani brings the kind of contemporary star power that makes a traditional model lineup feel newly plugged into the internet.
The appeal is not just that these women are recognizable. It is that each one arrives with a different version of fashion celebrity attached. Hadid is a perennial headline generator. Shayk carries old-school supermodel glamour without looking trapped in it. Prinsloo is directly connected to the brand’s legacy. Graham has long occupied a broader mainstream fashion lane. Consani belongs to a faster, more online era, where personality is part of the runway package.
Put them in the same after-party gallery and the result is a useful reminder that “model off duty” is no longer one uniform look or one narrow kind of fame. It can mean polished, chaotic, glamorous, playful, highly styled or apparently effortless, sometimes within the same camera flash.
The gallery’s structure makes that mix especially fun. It moves from Bella to McRae to Shayk to Ceretti, then through Earle, Graham, Consani and Blackwell before circling back to Prinsloo and a long list of recognizable partygoers. The sequencing feels like a scroll through several different corners of the culture, all landing at the same door.
Then came the internet’s favorite kind of crossover
Alix Earle and Livvy Dunne appearing in the same post-show orbit is the kind of detail that instantly changes the temperature of a celebrity roundup. Both have built enormous visibility through social platforms, but their public lanes are distinct enough that seeing them in a fashion-night setting feels like a crossover episode.
There is also Amelia Gray Hamlin and Nicolai Marciano, listed together in the gallery, plus Kailyn Shepherd and Jonathan “Foodgod” Cheban. The source does not turn either appearance into a romance storyline, and neither should we. Sometimes a shared frame is simply a shared frame. Still, in the modern celebrity industrial complex, even a pairing in a photo caption can make people pause, zoom in and start constructing a group-chat theory.
That is the peculiar pressure of these events: everyone is dressed for attention, and every entrance can be interpreted as a social signal. A night out becomes a soft launch only if the people watching decide it is one. A familiar pairing becomes a talking point because the audience already knows how to read the room—or believes it does.
The lineup also includes Anastasia Karanikolaou, Olivia Ponton, Sabrina Zada, Daiane Sodre, Abby Chamberlain, Trinity Tatum and Kailyn Shepherd, names that keep the party from feeling like a museum of established fame. The atmosphere is not purely legacy fashion, and it is not purely influencer culture. It is the messy middle where both now live.
The real dress code was being seen
Every major fashion event eventually produces a best-dressed conversation, but an after-party gallery offers something more revealing: the social hierarchy of visibility. Who is placed near whom? Which names recur in the caption? Who gets photographed arriving, who gets photographed leaving and who appears as part of the night’s wider cast?
Here, the answer is almost comically expansive. There are angels, supermodels, pop performers, creators, athletes, DJs, actors’ children, musicians and nightlife fixtures. Tyga and Diplo appear alongside the fashion crowd. AE is included in the lineup. Foodgod is there. The party is not trying to preserve the clean boundaries of the runway; it is showing what happens once the show becomes a social event.
That is why these photographs tend to travel. They offer the fantasy of access without requiring anyone to understand the seating plan. You do not need to know who was on the guest list committee. You only need to recognize enough names to feel that something happened, and then notice a few pairings you were not expecting.
The 2026 Victoria’s Secret after-party had all the necessary ingredients: a famous fashion brand, a glamorous Los Angeles venue, models with serious runway history, a performer fresh offstage and a rotating cast of people who dominate different corners of the public imagination. The outfits are the visible story, but the guest list is the real plot.
By the time the party finally wound down in the wee hours, the runway had done its job. It delivered the spectacle. The after-party delivered the crossover. And somewhere between Bella Hadid, Tate McRae, Alix Earle, Behati Prinsloo and Tyga, Victoria’s Secret accidentally staged a very stylish family reunion for the entire celebrity internet.
Taylor Swift Was Watching the Game. One Fan Forgot the Assignment.
A woman kept filming Swift from below her VIP suite at Arrowhead Stadium — even after the pop star told her to stop. The internet, for once, found the boundary.
There are two kinds of people at a football game: the ones watching the football, and the ones watching the famous people watching the football. On Sunday at Arrowhead Stadium, one fan made a very public commitment to the second category — and Taylor Swift was not feeling generous.
Swift was in a VIP suite in Kansas City, focused on the Chiefs’ game against the Los Angeles Chargers and supporting her husband, Travis Kelce, when a woman standing below the suite appeared to point her phone directly at the singer. Not a quick, discreet snap from the general direction of the box. The kind of filming that makes the subject look up, notice, and communicate a very clear: please stop.
According to video filmed by a football fan and shared on TikTok, the woman continued recording even after Swift gestured for her to knock it off. Swift’s security then told the fan to stop, while another person seated in the row below approached and signaled for her to return to her seat. She eventually did, leaving behind the sort of awkward stadium theater that makes an ordinary game suddenly feel like a live episode of Entitled Behavior: The Home Game.
The VIP suite is not a petting zoo
The clip landed in a particularly rich corner of the internet: the place where people can debate Taylor Swift’s outfits, friendships, football allegiance and facial expressions frame by frame, but still understand that she is technically a person trying to watch a game.
That distinction mattered here. Swift was not photographed arriving, posing for cameras or waving to the crowd. She was already settled into the suite, watching the action with Caitlin Clark and Este Haim, when the fan appeared to direct her phone into the private area. The moment was brief, but the boundary was unmistakable. Swift noticed. She objected. Security backed her up.
Fans in the comments largely sided with the singer, criticizing the woman for continuing to film after being asked to stop. “I do not understand how people think this is OK even after she told you to stop you continue on until her bodyguard has to tell you to go,” one commenter wrote. Another called the interaction “insane” and said the fan should have left Swift alone to watch the game.
It is an unusually clean internet consensus: no sprawling celebrity feud, no cryptic caption, no publicist chess. Just a famous woman indicating that a stranger should stop filming her, and the public responding, yes, obviously.
Taylor’s football era keeps producing side plots
Swift’s presence at Chiefs games has become its own recurring broadcast. Since her relationship with Kelce moved from private speculation to very public romance, every appearance in the suite has generated a secondary game built from outfit analysis, celebrity cameos and reaction shots.
Sunday’s guest list was especially buzzy. Swift attended with Clark, the basketball star, and Haim musician Este Haim, forming a trio that looked less like a conventional sports box and more like the most photographed group project in America. Swift wore bright red in support of the Chiefs, while the women watched the game from the suite. The visual was already tailor-made for social media before the filming incident turned it into a tiny lesson in stadium etiquette.
That is the strange tax of being Taylor Swift in public: even a concentrated football face can become content. A red outfit becomes a headline. A friendship becomes a slideshow. A glance toward the field becomes a theory. The singer has spent years navigating that level of attention, but Sunday’s video showed the difference between being seen and being intruded upon.
There is also a particular absurdity to interrupting someone who has crossed the country to watch her husband play football. Swift had jetted to Kansas City after attending the 2026 Academy Museum Gala in Los Angeles on Saturday night, where she wore a pale blue Dior dress before changing into a dark blue Ralph Lauren gown to perform songs including “The Fate of Ophelia.” The next day, she was in team colors, in a suite, trying to watch the game. The itinerary was glamorous; the desired activity was extremely simple.
One night, two Taylor Swift outfits, zero patience for the camera
The contrast between the gala and the stadium was part of the appeal. On Saturday, Swift was in full awards-season spectacle: Dior, Ralph Lauren, stage lights and a room built for admiring famous people. On Sunday, she was in red, surrounded by friends, tracking the Chiefs and apparently expecting the basic privacy that comes with sitting inside a luxury box rather than on the field.
That does not mean she was invisible. Swift has become an unofficial character in the NFL’s television universe, and her appearances are routinely folded into the game-day experience. Cameras look for her. Fans look toward her. Broadcasters know the shot will travel. But the attention still has limits, especially when someone moves from watching the broadcast to becoming the broadcast.
The woman’s phone seemed to cross that line. Swift’s reaction was not dramatic enough to become a spectacle of its own — no shouting, no scene, no theatrical exit — which may be exactly why the clip resonated. She simply saw what was happening and asked for it to stop. Her security reinforced the request. A fellow spectator helped close the loop.
In a culture that often treats celebrity access as a reward for persistence, the moment felt almost radical in its plainness. A person can be famous, photographed constantly and sitting in a public stadium, and still say no to one particular camera. A VIP suite can be visible without being open for business.
Swift, meanwhile, got back to the game. The Chiefs kept playing. Clark and Haim remained beside her. The fan retreated to her seat. And the internet did what it does best: turned a few seconds of stadium awkwardness into a full cultural referendum on whether anyone has ever heard the phrase “read the room.”
For once, the answer was gratifyingly clear. Watch the football. Leave the woman in the suite alone.