Queen of the Tiara-ble Twos
Even in the afterglow of victory, the beauty queen was a tough interview.
Congratulations, I said.
“Hello! Hello!” she said.
I had a list of the standard questions: How exactly do you intend to bring about world peace? Is Miss Congeniality in fact an unbearable simp? What do you think of our California sunshine? What about movie contracts and toothpaste endorsements, the self-image of women and the sad state of American youth?
But all she did was laugh and go: “Helloooo? Hellooooo?”
She was extremely juvenile about the whole affair, which I suppose shouldn’t have been surprising, considering she won’t be 3 until the end of July.
Success hasn’t spoiled Samantha Masyr. She might go to bed wearing a tiara and wake up to don the coveted sash that says Little Miss California State, but deep down she’s just a Camarillo kid who still appreciates the simple things--Barbies, playing outside, a good tricycle, an eye-catching but tasteful outfit.
“It’s never just clothes--it has to be an outfit,” said her father, Evan, with a note of resigned wonder.
After taking the crown in the 2-year-old division earlier this month, Samantha downed a strawberry milkshake--no anorexic self-deprivation here--and used a cell phone to call her aunt, her grandparents, her great-grandparents.
“She was telling them, ‘I won! I won!’ ” but I don’t know if she knew exactly what that meant,” said her mother, Christy.
You might think the parents of a 2-year-old beauty queen are the kind of people who take out second mortgages to buy pint-sized evening gowns and diction lessons for the daughter they believe destined to become a very important spokesmodel.
But that isn’t the case with the Masyrs. Evan, a mergers-and-acquisitions consultant, and Christy, who stays home with Samantha and 7-month-old Noah, have managed to keep their daughter’s brush with glory in healthy perspective--despite the 6-foot trophy, the $250 savings bond, even inquiries from press barons like myself.
“We were just walking through The Esplanade mall and saw the ads for the pageant,” Christy said. “Samantha just loves getting dressed up, so we figured it would be fun for her. If she didn’t like it, we weren’t going to do it again.”
Samantha took first runner-up in that regional competition, qualifying her parents to pay half price--or $75--for registration at the state contest in Anaheim on June 6.
“When they called her name, she instantly got this big smile,” her mother said. As Samantha toddled down the runway in her sequin-studded pink satin dress, she hammed it up, blowing kisses and waving. The judges--who included producers of TV commercials, directors of modeling agencies and James Earl Jones’ brother--enjoyed the show.
“They’re looking for what we call ‘sparkle,’ ” said Debbie Nelson, who heads Beauty Unlimited, the company that stages the Little Miss California pageants.
Nelson can tell you a thing or two about sparkle. A former Miss California USA, she most recently was Mrs. United Nations. (I didn’t ask if there was also a Mrs. Security Council or a Ms. General Assembly.) Her mother was a Miss Wisconsin, her older sister a Miss Orange County, and her two daughters Miss Teen Californias.
“If God gave a young lady beauty and grace, why not use it to her benefit, just as if she’d been given athletic ability,” Nelson asked. “Why should that be any different?”
Like others in the pageant trade, Nelson is stung by the suggestion that sad, sweet, heavily rouged Jon Benet Ramsey was typical of young contestants. Her case was a tragic aberration, Nelson says; in fact, “pageantry” helps young women walk the walk and talk the talk, their confidence elevated and responses sharpened by exposure to the limelight.
“There aren’t a lot of charm schools these days, the way there used to be,” she said.
As for the Masyrs, they are forgoing charm school and movie contracts (a recent Little Mr. California had a part in “Pleasantville”) and are planning young Samantha’s imminent retirement.
After her year as Little Miss California State, the kid will quit at the top of her game. Her responsibilities will include handing out prizes at three regional pageants, and that, the Masyrs, say, will be enough--at least for a while.
“Maybe when she’s 16 she can run for Miss Camarillo or something,” her mother said.
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Steve Chawkins is a Times staff writer. His e-mail address is steve.chawkins@latimes.com.
