By the third episode, though, I was hooked. Watching her navigate setbacks, I kept thinking: Wow. She’s an incredible woman. How has she managed to keep her business afloat, even when it was in the red for so long? And the honesty in her moments of self-doubt - admitting she never felt “good enough,” not even to make cheese toast - was disarming. Here’s someone who has conquered the world of music, fashion, and motherhood, and yet she still wrestles with the same insecurities that most of us do over our morning matcha.
The documentary pulls back the curtain on her life, showing moments of vulnerability that the tabloids never bothered to notice. She’s funny, warm, and clearly has a sense of humour about her own image. Yet, there’s this cultural itch to undermine her. Why? Part of it is that women who succeed quietly - or, in Victoria’s case, with impeccable posture - make people uncomfortable. She defies the trope of the “messy, relatable woman” who always needs rescuing. She just works and succeeds, and somehow that’s threatening.