Miss Italia

I can’t NOT tell you about the beauty pageant that took place a few days after we arrived. It’s old news now, but I’d be cruel to keep it from you. I’ve never seen the likes of this and I guarantee that if you weren’t in attendance then you haven’t either.

Just like the US has the Miss America pageant, Italy has the Miss Italia pageant. And just like in the US there are local contests to pick who goes on to the main event. Our little town of Pieve di Teco was chosen to host the regional contest this year and it was a huge deal. We are a town of only about 1500 year-round residents. There are many bigger or fancier towns in the region – Genoa, Savona, Portofino, all of Cinque Terre…so it was a source of pride that Pieve di Teco was honored in this way. There were posters up everywhere and we were like, um YES, there is absolutely no way we are going to miss this.

The day of the event all these vehicles rolled into town and people with badges and official shirts were everywhere. The piazza on the other end of town was all blocked off as a stage was set up along with big speakers and seating and a judge’s table. Town hall was turned in to a beauty salon. Mid afternoon I started seeing some very Barbie-esque young women walking around in matching white short shorts. The amount of exposed butt cheek in town multiplied exponentially.

The posters said the pageant started at 8:30. At 8:40 we were hurrying down the street afraid that we were missing it, but no. I have a hard time understanding this – some things here happen exactly on time, some are an hour late. How does everyone know which is which? Anyway, this was an hour late shindig. But we got good seats and watched the crowd mosey on in. All the town power players were in attendance. And by that I mean the guys from the bank, the guys who eat lunch with the priest twice a week, business owners, the local reporters and lots of police (were they expecting trouble or did they just want to watch? I have no clue).

Around 9:45 things finally got going. There were flashing lights, gregarious MCs, Italian pop music, and judges that were individually introduced and applauded. The event was sponsored by the Rocchetta bottled water company so there was product placement as well. It was all spectacular and the contest hadn’t even started.

But when it did, it really did. Things kicked off with a synchronized dance to the Miss Italia theme song took at least 8 minutes. And it went from there. I’m not going to give you the blow by blow because this was a four hour event with no food or drinks served. Italians don’t do anything for more than 30 minutes without food or drinks involved. Maybe church, but then they have a big lunch after. Anyway, this was serious business. There were skimpy swimsuits to be pranced in for god’s sake.

Twenty four contestants between the ages of 18 and 24 strutted and turned and switched from swimwear to evening gowns and back again. A few tripped on the cobblestones in their heels and you could tell by their faces that they knew it was all over for them. There was an interview portion where they were asked about what they wanted to do with their lives. At least three quarters said they want to be a model. My favorite contestant was #8, the girl who wants to be a teacher and has kind eyes. She did not win.

Things were broken up by performances from passionate singers and dance troops. The interpretive dance portion was by far my favorite, especially the part where the dancer dressed like a magician got shot with a finger gun by her assistant and threw her magic playing cards in the air.

Suffice it to say this was a full evening. There was really only thing missing and that thing was irony. I was laughing so hard at one point that tears were rolling down my face and then I noticed that no one else was amused in the slightest. No one that is except my daughter and we really shouldn’t be allowed to sit together ever because we get too silly. Everyone else was serious, which made me laugh even harder. I’m sure I made enemies but I couldn’t help it.

At one point when a particularly perky butt was walking down the red carpet, a man sitting behind us leaned over to my husband and said “she’s good, sì?” He was not ashamed of himself. It makes me laugh even now just remembering it.

I’m sure that in this day and age, at a pageant in the US you will see at least a nod to diversity, inclusivity and something besides just the superficial. It’s been many, many years since I have watched anything of the sort, but I know that there is a talent portion, and a part where everyone talks about the causes that are important to them. Here, no. It was only about upholding the conventional beauty standard. In a way, I appreciated the blatancy of it all. No apology, no pretending it was anything but a contest for one particular kind of beauty. The criteria being judged were butts, boobs, hair, skinniness, flawless skin and how well you walk in heels. Being interesting was not on the list.

About three hours in I was exhausted but of course I couldn’t leave until we knew the winner. Tallying up the points took a full hour. The contestants were paraded through a few more times in various outfits. There were more performances. There was a part were the crowd was supposed to sing along with a famous Italian song but it was being sung so badly that no one wanted to join in. There were more weird dance routines. We were all on pins and needles.

And finally, after all the anticipation, the big moment arrived and the Miss Rocchetta Ligurian Regional Champion was crowned (right here in our very own town, can you believe it?!) She was the most plastic looking of them all. She was fake blond and fake tan and she could flip her hair perfectly. Everyone cheered.