All the nice girls love a sailor - if his uniform fits.

Byline: VALERIE HILL

I'VE never quite understood the attraction of a man in uniform. Yes, the garb itself might be quite smart. Indeed, the chap inside it could be a decent sort. But, put together, the combination isn't necessarily dynamite for me.

Of course, I'm not necessarily talking B&Q overalls here. Or a fast food outlet baseball cap and apron.

It goes without saying that these work clothes are merely functional, protective and advertorial. Or perhaps I'm just talking them up.

And I'm not particularly swayed by the togs sported by railway personnel, car park attendants or traffic wardens.

Then again, I suppose few women are.

Uniforms which are meant to denote status don't always float my boat either. We once had a neighbour who was a policeman. Each morning, we watched him venture out for work in a different set of clothes according to that day's duties. High visibility and flat hat denoted one type of assignment, padded black gilet with matching chequered arm bands another.

In fact, he had so many outfits we started to call him Sindy. We wondered if he sported standard issue black and white boxer shorts underneath.

However, I'm shooting myself in the foot here. For years, I wanted to become a nurse simply on the basis of the uniform - when that meant the starched white apron, the elasticated armbands and the was pie belt.

For years, I coveted that Carry on Matron look till I realised that it was probably designed for effect, rather than comfort. And I also wondered why doctors in the same working environment didn't have to wear a daft little cap perched precariously on the back of their heads? I suppose the sartorial sway really comes from military personnel: the brass buttons, the shiny shoes and the gold brocade are, for some women, simply irresistible. They shout authority, confidence and courage.

If they fit, that is. For whenever I see a soldier or a sailor, more often than not, their uniforms are a tad too small.

This happened at the weekend when I was present at a small do attended by some of the officers from HMS Ark Royal, the aircraft carrier having been parked at the naval jetty, aka the new cruise liner landing stage, for a few days.

These men were charming, couth and effortlessly sociable but, as I chatted to them, all that was in my eye-line were straining buttons and seams.

A friend actually said to me that a huge pull in naval recruitment is the distinctive uniform. Well, maybe so, but I don't think anyone signing up thinks that they'll have to forgo a few chest sizes in the name of military cutbacks.

All the nice girls may love a sailor, but not one who is wearing his trousers half mast. That surely is a look best left, well, to the ship's mast.

NOT only are many bankers boasting that they've secured employment with bonuses pegged to pre-credit crunch 2007 levels, but there is another indication we should feel more confident about the financial outlook.

In London's great Cafe Royal close-down sale, the dessert trolley auctioned for pounds 12,000. So, forget Burberry, Wedgwood, Woolies and the rest laying off staff. Recession? What recession?

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CAPTION(S):

A job with a uniform initially seemed like a good idea, but our legs were freezing in winter and we rusted solid whenever it rained