I was not expecting this but the King's College heat of the Miss University London beauty pageant on Tuesday night has made me feel glad to be alive. Not because it's always nice to see more chignons worn in public. Although it is. And it's definitely not because I feel empowered by seeing young women queuing up to be evaluated, like Stepford Wives. I don't. I feel a bit queasy.
No, the reason I'm so excited is because - wait for it - people actually came, dozens of them, to the Crystal Club in Marylebone expressly to protest. They were incensed enough to write slogans on their own bed sheets. They had invented chants like "Beauty is not skin deep" and "Our bodies are not for sale". This is extraordinary. Someone cared enough to turn up and say: "This is wrong." This is important. It means that feminism is not dead.
The protesters were young, hip men and women. (You can tell I am too old to be one of their number as I still use the word "hip".) A lot of them were cute too: a few were wearing miniskirts and one girl had on a fantastic pair of red suede knee-high boots. They were not weirdo killjoys. They were ordinary students who felt depressed about the fact that 30 years after feminism, beauty contests are still taking place where young women are lined up and judged as sex objects.
From what I can tell from looking at the protesters' clothes (not a dungaree or hairy armpit in sight), they, like me, have nothing against glamour, beauty or fun - the opposite.
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