Donald Trump is the enemy
Fifteen young women in short black dresses and nude heels rehearse a dance number to the song “Beautiful Now” in the Lincoln High School auditorium. Tomorrow one of them will be crowned Miss San Diego and the other Miss Outstanding Teen San Diego.
Princesses are also in attendance, girls ranging in age from 4 to 12 years old. They don frilly pink dresses. A sticky-faced princess has stripped off her itchy taffeta gown and is sprawled across her mother’s lap wearing only her underwear. She yawns while watching the dance number.
At tonight’s dress rehearsal the contestants are buzzing with nervous energy. Tomorrow night’s winners will go on to compete for the Miss California crown, one of the most coveted pageant titles in the country. Whoever wins will continue on to the Miss America pageant. In the 97-year history of the Miss San Diego pageant, 11 title-holders have gone on to become Miss California and Miss California Outstanding Teen.
Marina Inserra is among the lucky 11. She is the stage manager and in charge of the dress rehearsal. Even in black yoga pants and a T-shirt she screams “beauty queen.” Twice she has introduced herself to me by offering a firm handshake and saying, “Marina Inserra, former Miss California.” Her mother, Issie Inserra, is the pageant director. While Issie gives me a tour behind the scenes I ask her what it was like watching her daughter compete in the Miss America pageant and whether or not she met Donald Trump. She grimaces at the question, quickly correcting my faux pas by explaining, “Trump is connected to the Miss USA/Miss Universe organization. Never confuse the two. Donald Trump is the enemy. They are two very different organizations. Miss San Diego is a Miss America pageant. We are the largest scholarship program for women in the world!”
Back in the auditorium, one of the pageant moms attempts to elaborate on the differences between the two organizations: “Miss USA does not have a talent portion. A simple way to explain it is that Miss USA girls want to grow up and become lingerie models. Miss America girls want to be doctors and lawyers.”
On stage, the former Miss California is joined by her assistant stage manager and former Miss Green Bay Area, the bleached-blonde Jenny Thomas. The two women prep the girls for the talent portion of the night. They usher the ladies on and off stage using headsets to communicate with the sound booth to dim the lights or to turn up or down the music. They offer tips and helpful critiques of each talent routine.
Prior to tonight’s dress rehearsal I have already meet three out of the nine Miss San Diego contestants. Up on stage they morph into different people from the ones I sat down with a few days ago. Chelsea Magracia, with her chestnut-brown hair and petite frame, was optimistic and bubbly when I met her at a coffee shop near her Chula Vista home. Now she appears intense and introverted. She stands apart from the other girls. Stone-faced, she practices a section of the opening routine over and over again, making sure that it is just right. She was the last of the nine women to enroll in the pageant. She joined the girls three weeks earlier, while the others have been practicing together for six weeks.
“Do you think the other contestants hold your late entry against you?” I asked Magracia during our interview earlier in the week.
“I couldn’t say. I barely know them.” She pauses for a moment before adding in her best pageant voice, “They are all terrific and talented girls.”
The porcelain-skinned beauty, Kirstin Roberts, whom I met three days prior in Mission Hills, looks like a ball of nerves on stage. She was so polished during our conversation that her answers seemed scripted. Roberts is the youngest of seven children. She comes from a pageant family. She grew up in a home whose closets were stuffed with formal gowns. Her older sisters competed in the pageant circuit. One of them was crowned Miss Oregon. Roberts feels a tremendous amount of pressure to win the crown. That pressure is palpable as she moves around onstage.
Mallory Murphy is the only one who appears totally herself on stage. She talks and laughs with the other girls. She exudes confidence. I met Murphy five days prior in Solana Beach. She was sitting at an oblong table in a dimly lit Starbucks. I walked past her several times, scanning the room for the blonde whose photo I saw on the Miss San Diego website. Magracia and Roberts showed up to our interviews perfectly coifed, their hair curled, makeup expertly applied, each one in high heels with teeth so white they glowed. Murphy is different. On the night of our meeting, Murphy’s blond hair is frizzy and damp. It is thrown into a sloppy low pony tail. She wears sweats paired with boots. Her oversized sweater is pilling.
While Magracia and Roberts tend to pause before answering my questions in order to formulate answers, Murphy dives right in, often oversharing. Within 15 minutes I have learned that her boyfriend frowns upon the Eiffel Tower tattoo she got to commemorate the four and a half months she spent studying in Paris. She explains that to guys it symbolizes something unsavory. “Don’t Google it!” she tells me with a laugh. I also know that she is hoping the conservative judges don’t ask her opinion on Planned Parenthood because she is a passionate supporter of their programs. She used their services after she was drugged and date-raped in college. I also learn that she is existing on a strict daily diet of one slice of toast, one cup of black coffee, a single grapefruit, a hard-boiled egg, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream during the last five days leading up to the pageant in order to maintain her svelte figure.
“I have a four-pack,” she says, lifting up her shirt to reveal her toned tummy. “I tried for a six-pack but that bottom part of your stomach is so hard to tone.”
read more: www.queenieau.com/formal-dresses
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