For this is the woman who would be president. She is the Socialist candidate in the presidential election, an unlikely standard-bearer in a party where, traditionally, sexism was not regarded so much as a problem as a driving force.

The old fogies in the party, known as the Elephants, are distinctly unhappy by her ascendance through the ranks.

She didn't acquire their imprimatur, and Royal makes no bones about the criticism she attracts from within the party.

In a radio interview on Monday, she spelled it out. "Yes, they are jealous, " she said with a laugh. "They can't become a woman. I am surprisedf I am surprised that I think no man could bear what I am bearing now.

Because, only because, I am a woman."

Setting yourself up as a strategic victim is becoming hackneyed in politics, but Royal is not talking off the top of her head. As her candidacy began to gather steam, rival candidate Laurent Fabins had his Pee Flynn moment when he was reported as asking: "Who will look after the children?" When word got out, he responded by suggesting it was a joke.

If sexism has been a problem in winning over the power-brokers in smokefilled rooms, then her gender has definitely had its plusses in wooing the electorate. Royal is seen as fitting the iconic model of the middle-aged French woman, boasting, in equal measures, a combination of allure and intelligence, in the mould of the likes of Catherine Deneueve.

Now 53, she is the mother of four offspring, ranging in age from teens to 20s. Her partner of 25 years is Francois Hollande, who also happens to be president of the Socialist Party. And while such a nugget might initially raise questions about nepotism, the reality is that Hollande himself was a candidate early in the race, but pulled out after polling badly. In some quarters, he is now dismissively referred to as Monsieur Royal, and it is believed that any conversation about their differing fortunes is sensitively broached around the family dinner table.

Royal's fashion sense, which is the subject of endless fascination in the media, is high French. She is rarely seen without stilettoes or Chanel-style suits. International diplomacy may soon be trading in the McAleese hug for the Royal heel.

Neither is she afraid to appear on daytime TV programmes, often dismissed by some colleagues as lightweight fare. There is, thus, a bit of Bertie in her. Hobnobbing in the TV studios has also brought her into the celebrity orbit, which adds to the glamour. She has been described by Newsweek as the "sexy socialist" and was recently voted the sixth sexiest woman in the world.

But the concentration on her physical and fashion attributes can be a double-edged sword, leading some commentators to infer that, politically, she is all fur coat and no knickers.

This impression is enhanced in some quarters by her failure to pay homage to some old ideological chestnuts in the party. While holding her cards close to her chest, she appears willing to tackle the national economic model that served a good chunk of the population well for so long, but is seen to be unsustainable in the globalised economy.

Earlier this year, sustained and voracious protests forced the government to back down from proposals to make it easier to hire and fire young workers in their first job.

The other side of the tracks was aflame last year in the riots that gripped the suburbs where the new French and young immigrants have little hope of getting work.

The 35-hour working week, for example, is sacred, but she has indicated she would be willing to reexamine its relevance today. Restrictive work and employment practices are also something that an incoming president will have to address. In such ways, she resembles a younger Tony Blair preaching his Third Way from leftfield. This cuts both ways, with some suggesting that, like Blair, she is more concerned with style than substance, PR taking precedence over substance. Royal has expressed admiration for Blair's domestic achievements, but says she disagrees profoundly with him on the war in Iraq.

Adding to her popularity is the narrative of her troubled childhood.

She was born in Senegal, the fourth of eight children of a French army colonel, Jacques Royal. The family soon returned home to settle in the Lorraine. Jacques, by all accounts, was some lad. He played Gregorian chants around the house and insisted his children went to mass every day.

Whenever any of his five sons misbehaved, he shaved their heads.

And he believed firmly that a woman's place was in the home. He once said: "I have five children and three daughters." Out of such a maelstrom, Royal acquired the skills to take on the male bastion of left-wing French politics.

At college, she met Hollande, who was already grappling at the lower rungs of socialist politics. They rose through the ranks in unison, producing four children along the way, but never marrying. Royal has experience in three different cabinet ministries, a CV that is often overlooked by those attempting to portray her as lightweight.

The high-flying couple have naturally attracted comparisons to the Clintons, minus the cupboard full of skeletons, land deals, cigars and dresses. The only blast from the past that has landed a hit on her ascent is an allegation that her brother was the bomber of the Greenpeace flagship, Rainbow Warrior 20 years ago.

Gerard Royal was a lieutenant in the French intelligence at the time, the organisation that was responsible for the bombing. But now another brother, Antoine, has alleged that Gerard actually planted the bomb in Auckland harbour which killed a photographer.

The episode is remembered with great shame in many sections of French life, but the new allegation is unlikely to land a serious blow to her candidature.

Far more threatening will be the challenge of her greatest rival, the right-wing interior minister, Nocolas Sarkozy. He is making the case that only he has the ability to tackle France's economic woes and all that such a radical move will entail. He also feels he has his finger on the pulse of French opinion with a hardline attitude to immigration.

However, he may have overplayed his hand by calling the immigrant youths who rioted last year "scum".

Then last week he backed down in the face of a hunger strike by African immigrants, thus alienating the far right to which he has been appealing.

So the road may be rising to meet Marie Segolene Royal. Barring a rattling of skeletons, or the intervention of accursed events, she is on course to become the French Republic's first female president next May.

C.V.

Age: 53 Family: Partner to Francois Hollande, president of French Socialist Party. Four children In the news: She is on of the frontrunners for next year's French presidential election