Miss Déjà Vu
Does this scene ring a bell? That’s no surprise: Every year, on almost the same date, a young woman, bearing a tiara on her head and a sash across her chest, bursts into tears, collapsing into the arms of other, equally stunning, young women – though they have no tiaras. Alongside them, there’s always the presented Jean-Pierre Foucault, who is systematically overwhelmed by the moment. This year, the scene played out on December 14, at the Futuroscope theme park, near the central French city of Poitiers, with the leading role going to a woman named Angélique Angarni-Filopon. She is Miss France 2025.
Made in Vaison
Angarni-Filopon, 34, is the oldest winner in the contest’s history – which was long limited to women under 24 – and was presented with the traditional Miss France sash. Measuring 1.60 m long, 9.5 cm wide and fastened with a lapel pin, the sash has, for many years, been created by the French company Varinard, based in the southern French town of Vaison-la-Romaine. Fun fact: Originally specializing in flag production, the company now also manufactures mayoral sashes.
All is fair in lace and war
Angarni-Filopon’s vast pink tulle underskirt calls for a little history lesson. The material takes its name from the eponymous town in France’s central Limousin area, where the needlepoint lace type known as “poinct de Tulle” was made. Industrial tulle was then developed in England, in 1777 to replicate lace from Tulle on a larger scale. The British version quickly became so high-quality that Napoleon banned it from being imported in 1802, to protect French artisans, who were distressed by such fierce competition.
All that glitters
The abundance of sequins adorning several outfits here – particularly on the image’s left, on the dress worn by Cindy Fabre, the director of the Miss France national contest; and on the jacket sported by Sylvie Vartan, this year’s jury president – reminds us that this decorative element is one of history’s most enduring fashion trends. Judge for yourself: In 1327 B.C., the Pharaoh Tutankhamun was mummified, and then covered with small, sequin-like coins, which were believed to ensure his financial stability in the afterlife.
Stepping out in (floral) style
Foucault, the ever-present ringmaster of the contest, was clad in a classic tuxedo, along with a burgundy bow tie – not his finest – and a red carnation in his buttonhole. This offers us the opportunity for a little cinematic detour: Harrison Ford, in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, also wore a buttonhole carnation, as did Marlon Brando in The Godfather and Sean Connery in Goldfinger. Foucault was therefore following in the footsteps of the greats. Will his style leave an equally lasting impression? Only time will tell.
