The girls examine their beautifully polished finger nails, and each considers the intricacies of her own particular situation. A red carpet is rolled out on the tarmac of the Nnamdi Azikwe International Airport.

This is where the actual beauty contest is supposed to be held, at the International Conference Center. Welcome to God’s own country!” booms Jerry Gana, Nigeria’s information minister, when the girls finally arrive in Abuja, the normally tranquil capital. “The necklace, 63 francs from Bon Marché- pas mal, n’est-ce pas? And the bracelets? France points to a host of delicately beaded bangles floating from one milky arm-“a gift from Meees India.” And France, a Catherine Deneuve look-alike, proudly shows off her jewelry-proudly because none of it has set her back by much. Chile agrees to share her electric eyelash curler.

Colombia carefully ministers to Ecuador with layer upon layer of bright peach blusher and Chanel lip liner. Generous grooming, the contemporary woman’s sedative, becomes, in this charged and lonely atmosphere, practically a philanthropic activity. That, by the way, is how the 90 contestants refer to one another-they leave off the “Miss,” so that during downtime, of which there is plenty, you hear cries from what sounds like a shrill oral primer in modern geography: “Hey, Czech Republic!” “Hey, Slovakia!” “Over here, Latvia and Kazakhstan!” Or still better-this from Germany, a small, scrappy model who favors running pants that read “NYC” across her small bottom-“South Africa, thank God you’re here!” And with that, South Africa, a willowy blonde with a long tangle of curls, and a gentle smile, and wearing an incredibly tiny jeans skirt, patiently proceeds to apply a perfect coat of makeup to her charge-an application that takes a good hour.īeauty competition though this is, rivalry is rarely in evidence among the girls. In high school, Canada used to play tackle football on a boys’ team and coach a boys’ soccer team.

“We were basically in isolation for 10 days,” Miss Canada reports, and this perturbs her because she is by nature inquisitive.

There are seditious toilets and arid showers, mute telephones, a total absence of newspapers, and-in every room-a television set that features only one station, and that one devoted to music videos exclusively. Lively Miss Canada, her thick blond hair swept into a ponytail, is startled by the meager hotel accommodations in Calabar, Nigeria, where, deprived of a fitness center, the young women have to run laps through the halls. It isn’t turning out to be the usual sort of beauty contest.

Junior miss nudist pageant 2002