It's a little after 9.30 on a dreich Wednesday morning in Glasgow as I wait for Nieve Jennings in the reception of an upmarket hairdressing salon. As the minutes tick past I'm beginning to wonder if I'll recognise her, when Jennings sashays in, all long, slender limbs, swishing hair and ear-to-ear pearly white smile. She doesn't even make it as far as the front desk before three members of staff descend on her and with well-oiled precision simultaneously fasten her into a hairdressing gown, rustle up some coffee and escort her to a discreet corner of the salon. Miss Scotland is in the building.

Jennings, it must be said, is a real head-turner. Standing 5ft 9in in her stocking soles, she has cat-like green eyes, a sleek mane of dark hair tumbling around her shoulders and dazzling, light-up-the-room smile. Slim but with killer curves - proper hips and a bum - she is displaying an impressive expanse of honey-coloured, taut stomach above the waistband of her jeans. I find myself scrutinising her for flaws - a stray chin hair, a bulging zit, a stretch mark or dimple where it shouldn't be - but fail to spot even so much as an eyelash out of place.

I've always imagined being a beauty queen would be a doddle. If, like Jennings, you have the vital equipment, just how difficult could it be to smile, look good in a bikini and bleat on about world peace and a lifelong dream to work with starving children in Africa?

Jennings grew up in Bishopbriggs, just outside Glasgow, and watching the Miss World pageant on television was an annual tradition. Mesmerised by the beautiful, glamorous women gracing the screen, she recalls turning to her mother and saying: "One day I'll do that." While some would dismiss hers as a frivolous and vacuous existence, I'm curious to discover exactly how the 20-year-old spends her days. Just what does it take to be a beauty queen?

First on the itinerary - surprise, surprise - is hair and make-up (although Jennings has opted to do the latter herself). She eases herself into a black swivel chair as a stylist fusses around with hot rollers and hairpins. I momentarily lose sight of her as she is enveloped in a cloud of hairspray. As the fog subsides, the stylist brings Jennings a pile of magazines which she flicks through before turning her attention to the thick wad of papers in front of her. A quick peek over her shoulder gleans that it's the application form for the Miss World contest in Sanya, China, this December. Sitting under the drier with her hair in rollers, Jennings fills out the forms in neat, looping handwriting.

Once her hair is suitably coiffed - she is now sporting a tousled, just-got-out-of-bed look - we hop in a taxi to her next appointment, a manicure at the Hilton spa. The taxi driver can't stop looking at her in the rear view mirror. He asks who she is. "Miss Scotland," replies the PR accompanying us. "Ah, I thought it was but I didnae recognise you without your tartan bikini," says the taxi driver, grinning. Jennings beams back. I suspect she gets that a lot.

Jennings still lives at home in Bishopbriggs with her mother Caroline, a jewellery consultant. She has two brothers, Lewis, 21, and Connor, 12. When asked about her father she freezes. "I've no contact with him at the moment," she says. She doesn't elaborate further. I ask if being Miss Scotland brings pressure to look good at all times. She cheerily shakes her head although does admit to "the odd off day" when "my hair isn't sitting right or something like that". Jennings looks down at her splayed fingers. "I feel frayed around the edges if I don't have my nails done," she adds.

At the Hilton, as her nails are buffed and polished, the conversation turns to boyfriends. Jennings coyly reveals the current man in her life is Nigel, a criminal lawyer. She met him while out for lunch a week or so ago. He was in the same restaurant, they got chatting and he asked her out. The new romance has taken her somewhat by surprise. "I wasn't planning on seeing anyone," she says. "I wanted to concentrate on being Miss Scotland this year." She smiles happily. "I think he is my boyfriend," she says, "although it's still early days. I don't want to speak too soon."

Describing herself as "very patriotic", Jennings says she hopes to be "a great ambassador for Scotland". I ask her where she stands on the independence debate. She looks nervously towards the PR. "I think I want to stay out of politics, really," she says. So what does she want to do, then? "I'd like to go to hospitals and visit sick children," says Jennings, smiling. "Can you arrange that?" she asks the PR, who duly replies they're sifting through requests from numerous charities. "Really?" says Jennings, her eyes dancing. "That would be lovely. When can I do that?" The manicurist turns over Jennings's hand and studies her palm. She traces the lifeline with her finger. "Ah, a beautiful life," she says. Jennings smiles politely. I groan inwardly. We all knew that one already.

With barely time to draw breath, Jennings heads to Princes Square to pick outfits for a photoshoot to launch BoConcept's new furniture store in Glasgow. She also needs to find something to wear for a personal appearance at the first birthday party of chic West End watering hole, Bobar, the following evening.


Walking through the busy shopping centre Jennings prompts a flurry of stares, neck-craning and double-takes. Whether people recognise her as Miss Scotland or are merely taken aback at this specimen of physical human perfection, I'm not sure. Jennings, chatting away about potential outfits, is oblivious.

She's booked in for a consultation at designer boutique, Brownns, where the owner and chief buyer, Sharon Cram, insists the outfit du jour is a pink D&G lace dress with a huge satin bow on the back. Jennings dutifully tries it on. While anyone else would look like a blancmange, she looks uncannily like the ballerina atop a jewellery box. I can see the jealous bile rising in a couple of perma-tanned, footballers'-wives-types browsing the rails nearby. Minutes later Jennings exits with several thousand pounds worth of borrowed merchandise. She insists on carrying it all herself looking like the world's most graceful pack horse.

By now it's lunchtime; I've been looking forward to this. Will she eat? As we tuck into hefty king prawn salads (natch) I watch Jennings out of the corner of my eye. She polishes hers off first. I quiz her on food. Does she have to be careful what she eats? "Not really," says Jennings, "although I do stay away from bread. It makes me bloat." She smiles and pats a non-existent stomach. "I'm not a big fan of burgers and chips," she says, her nose wrinkling. "I hate the taste of chippie food. I like steak, salad, pasta, lots of vegetables. My favourite food is spaghetti bolognese."

A little before 2pm we arrive at BoConcept on Sauchiehall Street where Jennings is scheduled to do a photoshoot to launch the new store. She pops into the staff toilet to touch up her make-up and get changed. With echoes of Audrey Hepburn in that classic LBD (little black dress) she is photographed draped along a cream sofa. Next she changes into the pink D&G dress and bounces up and down on a bed shrieking with laughter as the photographer snaps away.

The decision is made to get some shots of Jennings - still in traffic-stopping pink dress - in a Christine Keeler-esque pose on a chair in the street outside the shop. The impact is instantaneous. Passers-by stop and openly gape. One man does several double-takes before eventually tripping over a bin. Embarrassed, he stumbles away. Two thirtysomething guys stand nudging each other in the ribs. "It's her, it's really her," stage-whispers one. "Aw, I've nae chance then," grumbles the other. An older couple wander past. "Nice chair," says the man, when his wife catches him staring. Another woman shields her boyfriend's eyes as they walk past. "How much prettier am I?" she whines.

The photoshoot winds up a little after 4pm and Jennings - still smiling - gets ready to head home. There's only one key question left unanswered. What are her thoughts on world peace? Jennings bursts out laughing but goes along with it. "Umm, I'd like for all the countries around the world to stop war and live in peace." Come December she should have it all sewn up.

A question of world peace

Who says models waft around in a world of their own with their brains switched off? This is how Nieve Jennings fared with our general-knowledge test

1. Who is the prime minister?
Gordon Brown. (Correct.)

And Scotland's first minister?
Alex Salmond. (Correct.)

2. How much does a pint of milk cost?
Umm, is it 50p? (Close enough. Anything between 35p and 50p.)

3. What is the capital of The United States?
Is it Washington? (Correct.)

Germany?
I've just been with a German friend. It's Berlin. (Correct.)

Australia?
Sydney. (No: it's Canberra.)

4. When was the Second World War?
1945 No, wait, it's 1939 until 1945. (Correct.)

And who won?
We did. Scotland, the UK. (Correct.)

5. Where will the Olympics be held next year?
Um, I'm sorry. I've no idea. (Beijing.)

And the Olympics in 2012?

London. (Correct.)

6. Name as many causes of climate change as you can?
Use of aerosols, car fumes, smoking. (Hmm. Car fumes are a big contributor. Smoking isn't such a problem, and aerosols were implicated in causing the hole in the ozone layer, rather than climate change.)

And ways to combat it?
Switch off lights after use, wash clothes at 30C and recycle all glass, paper, plastic and old clothes. (Correct.)

7. Which health-based legislation was recently introduced in England after being successfully implemented in Scotland last year?
The smoking ban. (Correct.)

8. Name all six official Scottish cities?
Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dundee, Perth (she is told Perth isn't an official city) Aberdeen and Inverness and Stirling. (Correct.)

9. What is the population of Scotland?
I'd say roughly five million. (Correct. It's 5,062,011, although how many of us could be that precise?)

10. How often is it recommended we should have our hair trimmed?
Every six weeks. (Correct.)