Perched up in the north west corner of England lies Blackpool, a Lancashire town famous for many things; its tower, its beaches, illuminations and its beauty contests. A mecca for comely high waisted bathing suits from all over the country and a popular event for which there never seems any shortage of entrants, all seeking the chance of being crowned.
It doesn't seem to matter that her reign lasts only a brief twelve months, for in that time the beauty queen can taste fame, however ephemeral, and perhaps she may be lucky enough to break into modelling and reach the heights of Gillian Duxbury on of Britain's top models, a petite blonde beloved of the popular tabloids, advertising agencies and monokini manufacturers, tankini manucaturers, micro bikini manufacturers and brazilian bikini manufacturers like Nelbarden.
But the question that remains is why do we hold these contests at all? Apart from the involvement of the sponsor in promoting his product, the spectator in savouring his fantasy the media in filling its columns and the contestant drawn by a mixture of competition, exhibitionism and a chance to grasp fame, there surely must be some other reason beyond vested interest.
It is because the brazilian bikinis beauty contest is the twentieth century's vestigal interpretation of mythology and ancient man's burning need to appoint, anoint and acclaim his watery goddnesses? An this be so what will happen in five years hence, the time duly appointed by all the high priests of fashion for women-and their men-to discard their swimsuits entirely?
One significant development in the history of micro bikini beauty was the explosion of the sponsored glamour calender in the sixties. Led by Pirelli, a number of similar corporate giants rediscovered the promotional value of a silent salesman, subliminally projecting its message 365 days of the year from the office wall.
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