Miss Universe: The recap.
Miss Universe is a beauty pageant that’s about more than just beauty. It’s a tribute to international cooperation. It’s a tribute to modern sensibilities.
It’s a tribute to Hostage Face.
“Come watch the dreams of dozens get mercilessly crushed!”
HOSTAGE FACES. They are one today’s-date newspaper away from really worrying me.
To be fair, I would also be wearing Hostage Face if you put me in a Martha Stewart bikini and told me to walk around. However, it’s the part of this international diplomatic and cultural event that really brings home the what all this global cooperation is about.
Hint: proooobably not dignity.
But speaking of dignity, look who made Top 10!
That’s RIGHT, that fifteen-layer tartan thing paid off! Iceland RULES.
Sadly, she didn’t win. Venezuela did.
By George, I think she got it! (WHAT.)
***
Interlude: I heard about Venezuela’s answer to her interview question (wherin she mentions something about sexism doesn’t exist any more). If other people said that I would be angry; I get angry even when singers and actors say something like, “I’m not a feminist, because I like men.” (Lookin’ at you, Lady GaGa.) However, these are singers and actors, who should be at least nominally aware of the power and meaning of words.
Beauty pageant contestants are given one opportunity to talk in most pageants, and it’s answering a single interview question.They are clearly supposed to answer this question in a certain placid, prepared way, without saying anything even vaguely revolutionary that could turn a judge against them.
(“If you could be any kind of tree, what kind of tree would you be?”
“One with strong roots in a community like Mount Rose, a solid Christian trunk, and long, leafy branches to provide shade for handicapped kids on a hot summer day.”)
It just feels like a trap; you don’t make women doll up and parade around in whatever ridiculous outfits you can force them to wear so you can listen to what they have to SAY, you know?
Don’t get me wrong; I think pageants are ridiculous and open-season for mocking. However, I think it’s unfair to pretend you want your winner to have a brain. The winner will be wearing the sponsors’ outfits, waving, giving pre-written speeches at luncheons, and occasionally holding a small child from an impoverished nation so someone can take a picture. If she had progressive ideas, the people in charge would probably tell her to shut up about them anyway.
TO CONCLUDE: Interview questions, who do you think you’re fooling?
(“In a way, America is like a big ship. When we work together and respect each other, that’s when the ship gets safely home.”)
Now, back to making fun of the outfits, because that shit’s fair game.
***
Good news: the pageant is responding to other television shows and trying to up the drama/hip-young-people quotient!
Bad news: they issued every girl a Project Runway “Tablecloth Challenge” thinking that would turn out well.
Seriously, why do any of these garments exist? The title of the event – “Fashion Showcase” – is just word salad, since they wear a series of fancy dresses and hilarious costumes and whatever else, so the whole thing is a fashion showcase. Why are perfectly nice women forced to walk around in them as if they’re pleased to be wearing an outfit that one of the von Trapps looked at and rejected? (“It’s just…a little TOO curtainy, you know?”)
Miss Turkey doesn’t even know what this is about, you guys.
Some boring stuff happened. Then Miss Venezuela won, making her the second Miss Venezuela in a row to win Miss Universe.
Upon hearing the news, Miss Venezuela FLIPPED OUT.
I would like to think that this photo is an accidental glimpse into the byzantine society of international pageants, where Miss Universe is secretly like a General in some beauty-queen army, and she has just ordained her replacement so she can haul ass into the Carpathians and fight green leopards, whose sparkly pelts she will bring back so that Miss Great Britain can walk around in the evening gown competition like there is ANYTHING okay with wearing green sparkly leopard print on national TV.
I mean…it stands out? (I need to interview a beauty-pageant-dress designer and find out how this fulfills any criteria for a pretty dress, because I’m stumped.)
I’ll wrap up with a picture that shows the tedium, yet the dignity and humanity, of the participants of this pageant.
Just kidding! Like I’d end on an up note! Instead, enjoy this photo of the new Miss Universe, being handed over to the demonic lord and master who will rule her every move for 365 days, while trying to cop a feel every time he’s in the same room with her throughout the year:
Smile on, brave soldier! We salute you.
