I have just been told Must Never Wear dull colours and churidar kurtas. Ok, so I'll just burn half my wardrobe. I noted with interest that others in the department have been given more damning verdicts. For example, 'Must Never Wear short kurtas and over-tight clothes' always wears short kurtas and over-tight clothes. Well, almost always. She'll have to burn her entire wardrobe barring the stray saree. This is part of an exercise I've started among the girls (how much can you do with a shirt and trousers, so no boys) in my department to get each other to spruce up and fit in with the Lifestyle Etiquette Palette (LEP). Please be honest and write exactly what you think, I told the girls. They did just that. To a T. I don't know about Godesses of Grooming, but I may have created Enemies for Life. I hope not. The Lifestyle group COO, Mala, is adamant on 'looking the part' (meaning must fit into LEP). I agree, to an extent. Of course it may be excessive for the Cosmo Editor to report for work in a thong bikini, but she need not wear shapeless, muddy brown, salwar suits either (she actually wears little black dresses, with cleavage and all, and doesn't even keep pulling at them). It also works wonderfully to have the Harper's Bazaar Editor always (yes always) in dresses, shoes and accessories, all with labels I would wear on my sleeve. She hides them on the undersides. Totally LEP. The thing is, Mala too looks the part. So she keeps the straight face, and makes eye contact when pulling people up for shoddy, horrible-hair, make-up-less turn-outs. I mostly look out of the window, at some unimportant papers on the desk, at my colleagues clothes, intermittently or throughout, when delivering lectures on the subject. Sometimes I make eye-contact and say (sternly lying) I need to do my bit too. In real life, it's more like a big slice. At Good Housekeeping we believe that there is no cutting corners in basic grooming. Honestly, when month after month, we urge our readers to be their best, look their best (look good-feel good), I do feel the guilt weighing me down and rush to the salon for long overdue facials, pedicures, hair trims and so on. Once, I even did a Rs 2,500 super facial which ended with a plastic-y mask freezing over my face. I feared I would suffocate. I didn't, and became radiant. Sadly, I could dazzle only my colleagues (not all) since the day was spent at work. I do think, all of us in office, and most people I know, need to make that extra effort to look their best. It's worth it. And the good part is, it's so do-able now. Do read the Good Looks section in the magazine and tell us if it helps. Till next time.