I was not looking forward to my meeting with the fashion police.

I look after myself as much as the next person, but hey, in the league of the pampered woman, I am very much at the bottom of the pile.

I do, however, spend a fair bit on my clothes. But I wanted to take my wardrobe one step further, and see how much improvement the trained eye could make.

But for some reason I was worried about meeting fashion gurus Colette Lundy and Crystal Ball of First Impressions at Trimingham's for my make over.

I explained I wanted to go from being a work-a-day journalist to a businesswoman who could make an impact -- one who could walk with confidence into any boardroom and demand anything.

Tall order, maybe, but you may as well aim high...

Both women were friendly as pie, but I could feel their appraising eyes looking me up and down from the first, assessing just how much work lay ahead of them.

They first took me shopping through the designer labels, and explained the importance of finding a look that suited me as well as being practical.

For my work I do not need to wear a suit and I need to be comfortable enough to chase fire engines -- so stilettos and tight pencil skirts were out.

As we walked through the aisles, I shifted my tatty cheap purse out of the way behind me and they extolled the virtues of a great handbag. The issue of clean shoes also had me shuffling my feet in shame.

Trying on garments was also a hoot. Apparently I have a proportionally large waist and small behind. I also have long legs and a short body. We may know what we look like, but there is nothing like a critical eye to make you stare at your stomach in shame, remembering all those apple pies consumed over the past few weeks.

But, after all, the torture of scrutiny was well worth it. They picked out clothes that were soft and flowing, that flattered and improved my shape. I no longer was the thick waisted-small bottomed woman of my now paranoid imaginings, but looked in better shape than I actually was.

Then it was the hair and make up. Apparently I need a haircut. ..badly.

And my roots need doing...also badly. I am afraid I had not noticed. But with the flick of a brush and the sweep of curling tongs I was a big haired lady to match those perfectly quaffed women from the cast of Dynasty.

Both fashion consultants audibly gasped in horror when I told them I almost never wear make-up to work.

Judging by the amount of war paint laid out on the make-over table, I was going to make up for it in one fell swoop.

I don't know why a comment a friend had once said of a woman sprung to mind.

He had said that she had "enough paint to paint the tank and enough powder to blow it up with''.

The first thing they did was pluck my eyebrows. Ouch, but a marked improvement, I have to admit.

Then the first layer of powder and paint, followed by a second and a third.

Apparently my red nose (caused by endless allergies) was causing a logistical nightmare in the flawless skin department.

I was given multi-coloured eyes, and groomed to within an inch of my life. My skin has never looked so good, just like peaches and cream. It really was remarkable.

But while everyone said how great I looked, the painted face I ended up with did not really feel like me.

The first thing I did when I got home (sorry Crystal and Colette) was to wash it off.

The problem was not the make-up, but me. I think I just have to face the fact that I am not a Dynasty glamour puss, and never will be. I am still the same work-a-day hackette, and no amount of war paint is going to change that.

All in a day's work: Reporter Mairi Mallon arrives at The Royal Gazette .

Clothes that work: Ms Mallon wearing the latest Lauren collection from Trimingham's. Lauren trousers $132, shirt $48, and hooded cape $240. Belt by Liz Claiborne $18.