Suzanne Breen wonders what kind of self-respecting modern woman wants to be a performing poodle for a panel of minor celebrities.
She will be 45 next week but, in the eyes of her admirers, she has lost none of her allure. The Rose of Tralee is as fresh and lovely as ever. RTÉ certainly thinks so. While Miss World and Miss Universe are relegated to minor channels, our national broadcaster is devoting five hours of prime-time TV over two nights to this uniquely Irish event.
Only Ireland could hold a beauty pageant and insist the participants aren't sex objects. There won't be a one-piece swim-suit, let alone a string bikini, in sight.
Our contestants are required to dance jigs, play the tin whistle, recite poetry, or sing an old come-all-ye. Sadly, there are still women in this country, and across the developed world, queuing up to do so.
It was more understandable in the early days when they had fewer educational and career opportunities. But what self-respecting 21st-century woman wants to be a performing poodle for a panel of minor celebrities and civic worthies?
The contest might attract a huge audience but it's still a sexist, bland production. It's about as true to modern Ireland as a Daniel O'Donnell song.
Conceived eight years after Miss World, the Rose of Tralee has held onto its chastity belt. It's still the kind of contest de Valera could watch. Nice frocks but nothing too provocative.
A Rose is more than her vital statistics, say the organisers - she has a personality. But not any old personality. Roses are nice girls. Demure and virginal - or at least they must pretend to be. A Rose cannot be married or have children.
She must love mammy, daddy, any long-lost relatives and, of course, the ould sod.
She would never dream of reciting Molly Bloom's soliloquy from Ulysses as her party piece. She can be chatty but not opinionated; bright but not intellectual; educated but not overly ambitious.
This year's bunch seem to fit the bill. According to the official website, they enjoy a variety of swimming, shopping, singing, yoga, aerobics, eating chocolate, and playing the piano, flute or clarinet.
Queensland's Rose was inspired to play the harp "after seeing a harpist busking on the cliffs of Moher". Philadelphia's Rose can play 14 musical instruments.
South Australia wants her own florist's and gift shop. Cork's Rose enjoys meeting people and wants to get into TV. Air stewardess Celina Cusack, from Co Tipperary, emigrated to Dubai "to seek fame and fortune".
Dublin's Rose, Orla Tobin, is already well on her way there. She was an extra in the movie Veronica Guerin. We are told of other adventures: "Orla travelled to Cyprus after completing her Leaving Cert and sang in a karaoke bar where she had to dress up as one of the Flintstones - an experience she will never forget." No wonder she is Paddy Power's 4-1 favourite to lift the crown on Tuesday night.
Poor old New Orleans is the 50-1 long-shot. Surprisingly, our fragrant beauties don't find such speculation shoddy. Mention the words "cattle market" and the thorns are out.
Never mind its representation of Irishness and femininity. The pageant doesn't even reflect the reality of the week for most of the 200,000 festival visitors for whom it's synonymous with drink and debauchery.
Perhaps the Rose of Tralee should have the honesty to join them. She must give up her girlish games and decide to grow old - disgracefully.