All right, I admit it. The changing images which sartorially defined the dynamic corporate creature always passed me by. As lapels and kipper ties widened then narrowed, as shirt colours changed from pink to floret-peppered, as trousers flared then funnelled, I defaulted to my balding navy blue blazer and presentation tie.

Don't laugh. It was jet-setting neck gear in bright orange marking the day in 1978 when I became one of the first passengers to zoom from Dover to Calais on the Jetfoil. What's more (who says I don't move with the times?) I upgraded it with a splendid blue and yellow stripy cricket tie to commemorate the England v South Africa match at Headingley in 1998...

My taste in cars hasn't exactly marked me out as a fast-wheeling, high-dealing man-on-the-move either. There's nothing swish or sporty about my colourless Sierra. which is devoid of gaspworthy gadgetry. Who really needs a digital automatic nose picker at traffic lights?

But clearly something had to be done about my image. My wife demanded it. As the Evening Press business editor, the trendy business community in North and East Yorkshire expected it. And even the Prime Minister was putting pressure on me, although I wouldn't change to the degree he urges.

Tony Blair wants his ministers to "dress down" - cast aside their pin-stripes in favour of smart-but-casual cardies , describing the conventional business suit as "one of the tyrannies of modern life." Phooey to that.

Anyway, my resistance to change collapsed with the appearance on the business scene in North Yorkshire of two new ventures which were designed to inject a bit of zip, zap and pow into my presence.

One of them manifested itself in a fusillade of concussive explosions which had my neighbours opening windows and gawping.... My Porsche had arrived.

But this Imperial blue shiny-chromed white leather-lined lozenge which constantly growled a dynamited avalanche of broken bottles was no ordinary Porsche. It was a type 356 Speedster of 1956 vintage - one of the head-turners in the fleet of vintage sports cars run by Falling Leaf Classic Car Hire of Nether Poppleton.

My Porsche for the day was one of a limited edition of just 5,000 introduced by Ferdinand Porsche to the United States. It cost the-then exorbitant sum of around £2,200 new. Today it's worth around £40,000 as a living, breathing, roaring antique.

David Lewis, who with Anne Guardagnino has just begun this venture based at Allerton Drive handed over the keys uttering advice. "If a deal you're about to strike is on the borderline, this wonderful car will push it in your favour. It pleases eyes and hearts. It has no sharp edges, only non-aggressive flowing lines. It exudes success. Such works of art must be driven with your finest blase expression, preferably with the top off and...carefully."

And oh, yes, as the rear-mounted engine gave its crackly bellow and my neck cables twanged with the force of take-off I realised that this was one car that had to be driven, rather than relying on it to drive you. I shook my head in the ribbony wind flicking my hair all the way to Coopers Drive, Copmanthorpe.

There, as I struggled out of my seat with a mwah, I underwent the next stage of my transformation. This was the home and studio of Sally Hanley, an attractive personal and corporate image consultant whose First Impressions is making its mark with male businessmen as well as women seeking to know their key colours and styles to match their complexions and body shapes.

Sally, the first to gain a joint award from National Federation of Image Consultants and City and Guilds London Institute to tutor in men's styles as well as women's, said: "There is so much corporate competition out there that anything which gives the business person a more pleasing look is an immediate advantage.

"Consider this - 55 per cent of first impressions are based on how someone looks; 38 per cent is gleaned from body language and only seven per cent is based on actually what they say."

By which she means that you can be a smooth-talking salesman but if, when you cross your legs you show flesh between sock and trouser, the charm is broken. "It's as bad as spinach on the tooth or egg-stain on the tie."

On to work. Using different coloured material against my face she tested for depth - the strength or lightness of the colour - clarity (its brightness or softness) and undertone - whether it is blue or yellow based. Conclusion: I was both a cool and deep dude, but predominantly cool - and a swatch book of 33 of these qualifying hues was "my colour."

She established my body shape as "straight", labelled my face as "pear shaped" and calculated that I would need a suit of classic English cut with plain notched lapels, single breasted and double vented with slightly padded shoulders to square up my natural slope.

And off we went to put it into practice at Jaeger Viyella at the BAA McArthurGlen Designer Outlet in York.

I emerged wearing a wine-coloured Van Heusen shirt, a printed yellow patterned Van Heusen silk tie and a subtly fluted grey Jaeger suit which might have cost £440 in the high street, but here was dramatically discounted to £182.40.

And the figure reflected in the mirror was suddenly steely-eyed and purposeful. The positive vibes carried me all the way to the car park where I leaned against my dream machine as everyone watched.

Then, on cue, my wife at home followed her instructions and my mobile phone fweeped. "Buy every stock in Kazakhstan," I ordered loudly... and then exploded my Porsche into the sunset.