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From high jeans to high status

Trevor Davis

Simon Cowell seems to have pulled off the ultimate transformation in his image and style since he first appeared on our TV screens. There was a time when Cowell equated to a guy on a show with really high jeans and a belt. Gaudy black T-shirts were his style, occasionally swapped with a grey one, or maybe a navy one. But the defining image, without a doubt, was the high jeans and big belt. He looked like a pair of reasonably short legs with a walnut attached to the top.

Do you need a new wardrobe like Mr Cowell?! UK Net Guide's Online Shopping Guide has plenty of items to help you out!

Although Simon Cowell has undergone this transformation, his hairdo still looks a tad on the over-cut side, he now wears suave suits, opened a little at the collar to wow Kate Thornton into submission. He's the man everyone loves to boo, but secretly they're all very much in awe of him. He's filthy rich and has a pretty partner with no shortage of offers. Quite a transformation don't you think?

Overall, he's performed what every man in his mid-thirties aims to do, he's become more interesting and more cool. A friend of mine is determined to do the same thing, with the help of yoga lessons, a new wardrobe and a few speed dates to get things underway quickly. He asked for my assistance in helping with the clothes, so I accepted.

Now I don't dress like Jude Law, but I don't dress like Rodney Trotter either, I'm somewhere in between and wouldn't get laughed at when I enter a pub. Neil, however, probably would. When he turned up at Oxford Circus tube he looked like George Michael during the late days of Wham. His jeans were very blue and extremely light, capped off by a big pair of black boots and a white T-shirt that said "Cape Canaveral: See The Stars!"

I stared at the offending T-Shirt for sometime, bewildered by its message and struck by its awkwardness. "Never wear holiday T-shirts that blatantly looks like you ordered them from the internet," I said to him, before we marched along the busy streets. My friend has to get the basics right to be able to achieve anything at this speed dating and I'm not the best shopper in the world, so I invited a female friend to drag him around the shops before presenting to me an array of buys.

I stayed in the pub near Carnaby Street, gradually getting drunker awaiting the couple of idiots with hands full of bags. Eventually they turned up, after I'd finished by seventh pint. "Right, let's have a look," I blasted out, to which the whole pub turned and stared. I remember making some rather rash decisions and saying "you can take that back" quite a lot, but it was only the next day, after his speed date, that I was informed of the awful things I'd told him to wear.

His sister called me, saying that the tight black jeans, Rolling Stones lips T-shirt and white shoes hadn't gone down well at the London Philharmonic concert that they'd attended. In fact, he'd been thrown out and hadn't emerged from his bedroom all day.