Current Miss World Rolene Strauss. Photo / Getty Images
Current Miss World Rolene Strauss. Photo / Getty Images
Why would any woman want to be Miss World? wonders Rowan Pelling.
When I was a child in the 70s, beauty contests were as integral a part of UK culture as Angel Delight, flares and The Magic Roundabout. Every small town parade featured a simpering local belle in tiara and sash, while Miss World was the hottest date in the TV calendar, with peak audience figures of 27.5 million viewers. With my big sister, I loved sizing-up the contestants' hair and "two-piece bathing suits", a pastime that sat happily alongside attempts to copy Pan's People's dance routines on Top of the Pops and the weekly assessment of Anthea "Give us a twirl!" Redfern's frocks on The Generation Game.
Back in the days of shag-pile carpets and Ford Cortinas, it was generally understood that becoming a beauty queen was a legitimate stepping-stone to a more advantageous lifestyle. Halle Berry was runner-up in the 1986 Miss USA competition before she was a Hollywood superstar. Carolyn Seaward, who won Miss England and Miss UK 1979, went on to be a Bond girl in
Octopussy
, while the 1988 winner, Kirsty Roper, co-wrote
Black Coffee
, a No. 1 hit for All Saints, and married the Swiss billionaire Ernesto Bertarelli. Of course, marrying advantageously was part and parcel of the Miss World rags-to-riches mythology - even though Bruce Forsyth, husband to Puerto Rican former Miss World Wilnelia Merced, is not everybody's idea of Prince Charming.
Fast forward to the present day, and beauty pageants seem as relevant as white gloves and Playtex girdles. Most young women I know would rather be Lena Dunham, Beyonce or Amy Poehler than Miss UK. Little wonder contestants are thin on the ground. The organisers of this year's Miss Royal Lancashire, who include former Miss Great Britain 68-year-old Wendy George, have just one applicant for the title. You can't help suspecting the £250 (NZ$580) prize money has something to do with the lack of enthusiasm. In its heyday, winners of Miss World could expect to make the modern equivalent of half a million pounds in prize money and appearance fees. As Ms George said, sadly, the winners used to be "celebrities".
But feminism, career women and a female prime minister all conspired to kill off Miss World. Mrs T and Melanie Griffiths in Working Girl became the standard-bearers for a new, sassy era. The beauty queens were bumped off terrestrial TV back in the Eighties, with a short-lived reprieve on Channel 5, before returning to satellite obscurity in the UK. As the world moved in to the new millennium, the most popular competitions on the box were - and are - singing and talent contests and gladiatorial personality clashes, such as Big Brother. Looks may still count, but they aren't paramount, or even key to winning. A talented dog-handler on Britain's Got Talent often fares better than a wasp-waisted cutie.
Miss World 2014 Rolene Strauss, dances with first runner up Miss Hungary Edina Kulcsar (L) and second runner up Miss United States Elizabeth Safrit (R). Photo / Getty Images
Not that any of this is new. Even in the glory days of beauty contests, there were dissenters. The 1970 Miss World competition, hosted by Bob Hope, was invaded by Women's Liberation protesters, throwing leaflets and flour bombs and chanting: "We're not beautiful, we're not ugly, we're angry!"
Miss Universe has limped on via cable and satellite TV, but there's a good chance the contest's links with Donald Trump will see it euthanised, following the tycoon's claim that Mexican immigrants are rapists (meaning no TV channel would host the show). Wouldn't that be a bright day for all our daughters? After all, what dream does the beauty queen now serve? If a young woman wants a worthwhile career, or to marry a Hollywood god, or both, she'd do better becoming a human rights lawyer. Just ask Mrs Amal Clooney.
