In the blistering glare of the United Center’s spotlights, where the hardwood hums with the thunder of sneakers and the sharp crack of the ball against backboard, Angel Reese is undisputed royalty. The 23-year-old Chicago Sky forward, whose rebounding ferocity and unflinching flair have redefined the WNBA’s edge, averages 13.1 boards per game in her sophomore season—a stat line that screams dominance. But peel back the jersey, and there’s another Angel: the one striding catwalks in Milan, commanding billboards for Revolve and Vogue, her 6-foot-3 frame draped in designs that blend street swagger with haute couture. “Being a supermodel doesn’t take away from my passion for basketball,” Reese declared in a candid Elle interview last week, her smile as sharp as a crossover dribble. “It just proves I can shine in any arena. Whether it’s the runway or the court, I’m the best of them all.” It’s a bold proclamation from a woman who’s turning heads—and turning tables—proving that in 2025, athletic prowess and aesthetic empire aren’t rivals; they’re a remix, a powerhouse duality that’s catapulting Reese into icon status.

Reese’s ascent isn’t accidental; it’s architectural, built on a foundation of fearlessness that traces back to her Randallstown, Maryland roots. A McDonald’s All-American out of St. Frances Academy, she stormed LSU in 2020, leading the Tigers to their first national title in 2023 with a double-double average and a personality that lit up TikTok feeds like fireworks. Her “Bayou Barbie” moniker—coined for her glossy curls, unapologetic attitude, and post-win twirls—went viral, amassing 2.8 million Instagram followers before her pro debut. Drafted seventh overall by the Sky in 2024, Reese hit the ground galloping: Rookie of the Year nods, a 20-rebound game against the Sparks that had Shaq tweeting “Beast mode Barbie,” and endorsements raining like confetti—Jordan Brand, Coach, even a Gatorade “Win From Within” campaign that paired her sweat-soaked highlights with slow-mo sprints. On the court, she’s a rebounding revelation: 6.3 assists per game this season, her vision as visionary as her vertical. Off it? She’s a visionary in velvet, her modeling moonlighting morphing from side hustle to spotlight steal.

The supermodel pivot crystallized at the 2024 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit launch in Miami, where Reese graced the cover in a one-piece that fused athletic tape with allure—a emerald swimsuit etched with her jersey number 5, shot against South Beach waves crashing like applause. “I wanted to show Black women we can be powerful and pretty, fierce and feminine,” she told Vogue poolside, her locs crowned with hibiscus. The issue sold out in 48 hours, Reese’s feature—lensed by Yu Tsai—praised for “redefining athletic elegance.” From there, the runway calls cascaded: New York Fashion Week Fall ’25, where she opened for Prabal Gurung in a sari-gown hybrid that nodded her DMV heritage; Paris Haute Couture, strutting Schiaparelli’s surrealist silks with the poise of a point guard threading a pick-and-roll. Agents whisper she’s the “new Serena”—Williams, that is—blending brawn with beauty, her IMG Models contract inked for seven figures. “Angel’s not posing; she’s performing,” says stylist Law Roach, who dressed her for the Met Gala’s “Sleepless in the Met” theme last May (Reese in a Tom Ford tuxedo gown, evoking ’80s power suits with a modern menace). “She walks like she rebounds—aggressive, anticipatory, always one step ahead.”

Balancing the beam? It’s a high-wire act Reese navigates with the nonchalance of a no-look pass. Her Sky schedule—82 games, playoffs pending—clashes with couture calendars, but she’s mastered the merge: red-eye flights from Chicago to Milan, post-practice Pilates to perfect her posture, recovery shakes swapped for runway rehearsals. “Basketball’s my heartbeat, modeling’s my mirror,” she explained on her Unapologetically Angel podcast episode last month, co-hosted with ex-LSU flame Flau’jae Johnson. “One builds my body, the other builds my brand—but both build my belief.” Critics carp at the “distraction”: a Deadspin op-ed questioned if her Paris jaunt mid-season siphoned her stats (a dip from 18.1 PPG last year to 15.2 now), but Reese rebuts with receipts—her October 28 triple-double (15-12-10) against the Sun, fresh off Fashion Week fatigue. Teammates testify: Sky guard Marina Mabrey calls her “the ultimate 2-for-1—scores in stilettos and sneakers.” Off-court, it’s synergy: Revolve’s “Reese’s Rebounds” line—athleisure drops like compression leggings etched with motivational mantras (“Boss Up, Bounce Back”)—sold $4.2 million in Q3, funneling proceeds to her ANGEL Reese Foundation for Baltimore girls’ sports access.

The shine? It’s spotlight and shadow intertwined. Reese’s duality disrupts the damsel dichotomy in sports: women warriors pigeonholed as “just jocks” or “pretty props.” “I’m dismantling that,” she asserts in the Elle spread, shot by Annie Leibovitz in a Chicago court-turned-couture cathedral, Reese mid-jump shot in a Dior feathered frock. “Black excellence isn’t one-note—it’s symphony. I hoop, I haute, I heal.” Her advocacy amps the anthem: partnerships with the Players Coalition for mental health stipends, a “Runway Rebounds” initiative pairing WNBA rookies with modeling mentors (Hailey Van Lith’s runway debut? Reese’s nudge). Fans feast on the fusion: #AngelEverywhere trends with 1.5 million posts, edits splicing her Milan strut to “Livin’ La Vida Loca” over layup highlights. “She’s the blueprint,” gushes A’ja Wilson, Aces ace and Reese rival-turned-roomie at the 2024 Olympics. “Court confidence carries to couture—Angel owns it all.”

Yet the arena’s not always adoring. Trolls target her “vanity”: X threads decry “WNBA’s diva distraction,” tying her stats slump to “selfie sessions.” Reese fires back fierce: a September IG Live, locs loose and laugh loud, “Haters hate ’cause they can’t handle the height—I’m 6’3″ in heels and heart.” The racism ripple? Undeniable—post-SI cover, slurs surged 40% per social analytics firm Brandwatch, prompting Reese’s “Beauty Beyond Bias” essay in The Root: “My melanin, my muscles, my magic—they tried to box me, but I break barriers.” Allies amplify: Serena Williams reposted her Vogue spread with “Sister slays—keep shining, kid”; Rihanna DM’d collab teases for Fenty x Angel activewear. Reese’s response? Relentless: a November 1 Chicago Fashion Week takeover, where she closed in a custom Off-White ensemble—hoop net as necklace, ball as clutch—then dashed to practice, debuting a step-back three in drills.

This versatility vaults her valuation: Forbes pegs her net worth at $12 million, a leap from $8M last year, fueled by $6M in endorsements (Nike’s “Just Reese It” line alone). Her foundation? Flourishing—$1.5 million raised for DMV courts, scholarships for 200 girls. Peers ponder her playbook: Sky’s Kamilla Cardoso, the 6’7″ Brazilian beast, credits Reese’s runway tips for her own SI rookie shoot. “Angel’s showing us: Dominate the dimensions—don’t diminish.” Critics concede: ESPN’s Mina Kimes calls her “the W’s Warhol—art in action, action in art.”

As winter whispers toward the WNBA’s 2026 tip-off, Reese’s radiance radiates wider. A teased Netflix doc, Angel Unfiltered, promises court-to-couture confessions; whispers of a fragrance line (“Rebound Rose,” with notes of jasmine and grit) swirl. “I’m not choosing lanes—I’m paving highways,” she told Sports Illustrated courtside, mid-shootaround, her form flawless in fluorescent. From LSU’s Bayou to Milan’s marble, Reese isn’t shining in arenas—she’s expanding them, proving the best aren’t boxed; they’re boundless. Supermodel? Sure. Superstar? Undeniable. Angel Reese: the all-timer who reminds us, in hoops or haute, the throne’s for those who take it—and twirl.