Like ants to a honey pot, the feckless of Europe flocked last week to Enghien-les-Bains, just outside Paris. There, in the white casino above the quiet lake, twelve beauties were competing for the title Miss Europe. At the first showing two were missing: bumped by Egyptian royalty from the Cairo-Paris plane, Miss Italy still sat in Rome; Miss Austria just hadn't appeared.
On a dais at the end of the long, red-draped, cream-colored restaurant sat the judges: Jean-Gabriel Domergue, Paris painter of nudes and titles; the slick-haired Belgian impresario, Jean-Jacques Fortis; and, peering recklessly through enormous horn-rimmed glasses, Marilyn Buferd, Miss America...
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