So, are YOU brave enough to host a party where your friends

[Aliya]

The invitations for my rebranding party read as follows: "I'm the wrong side of 40, need new challenges, am feeling unfulfilled workwise, unsure about the need for romantic attachment and confused about how one presents oneself to the world.

"Can I still shop at Topshop? Cram my feet into platform shoes? Wear a bikini? Date younger men? I have the confidence of age but the fear of ageing.

"Please can you help me maximise my potential for the next 25 years without life becoming a hazy blur of unfulfilled disappointment, ailments and grumpy old woman complaints?"

The rebranding party is a craze currently sweeping America. The idea is that instead of friends telling you how wonderful you are, they tell you everything about you that they don't like - with tips on how to change.

Each attendee must be brutally honest about the elements of your personality they feel may be holding you back.

They must bring positive and constructive ideas, offer assistance, and are given carte blanche to say whatever they want, on this one occasion, without you taking offence.

This was something, I decided, I could do with and went ahead and organised one.

There is a particular British reticence about asking for help as it reeks of self-indulgence and vanity.

The only times we really offer help and mean it are when friends have suffered a loss or have been diagnosed with some terrible illness.

"Call me anytime," we say, or "if there's anything I can do".

It's not that we don't mean it, but we also know on some level that they won't call.

As a nation, we are uncomfortable with not being able to sort out our own problems. It somehow smacks of weakness.

As I nervously prepared for my party, I couldn't help wonder whether Madonna, that mistress of reinvention, had ever asked Gwyneth or Stella about the wisdom of wearing a purple bomber jacket, leotard and fishnets?

The answer almost certainly is no, but celebrities do have a retinue of stylists, make-up artists and PRs to keep them on top of the game.

Then again, if someone is being paid to give you advice, they're never really going to give it to you straight, are they? I mean, shouldn't someone have told Madonna that her get-up was all a bit much for a woman who's about to turn 50?

So, I erected my whiteboard headed "Rebrand Maria" in the centre of my living room, supplied marker pens, made sure there was plenty of wine chilling in the fridge - I knew I was going to need it even if nobody else was drinking - and had some party snacks warming in the oven.

Now, would it be possible to make it through the evening without bursting into tears or wanting to punch someone's lights out?

By 8.30pm a dozen of my friends were milling about clutching drinks and chatting happily, but no one seemed to want to go near the 'Rebrand Maria' board and the markers remained unopened.

I tried to get people to go over and write their thoughts, but they weren't having any of it. They may have agreed to come but it was obvious that none of my guests felt comfortable with such a public display of criticism.

As one friend said: "It just feels horribly cruel and unnecessary, and we're all having such a nice time."

This wasn't going to be as easy as I was led to believe by my chums across the pond.

Conceding to British reserve, I ripped some pieces of paper from a notepad, found a large sun hat, and instructed my friends to write down their suggestions anonymously and stick them in the hat while I busied myself taking mini quiches from the oven.

Before I knew it, my hat was filled to the brim. Cruelty, it seems, is fine as long as we're not accountable. I elected an actor friend to read each one aloud and suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable.

"Stop wearing Eighties make-up and pearlised nail varnish," he boomed. As an opener, it was pretty tame and everyone laughed.

It's certainly true, my decade was the Eighties and I have often found myself admiring Keeley Hawes's wardrobe in Ashes To Ashes, idly wondering if I can dig out my white boots and matching leather jacket combo.

The note also contained the number of a make-up artist. Perfect.

I publicly vowed to call the following morning and thanked the mysterious donor effusively whilst secretly trying to work out who it was and plotting to kill them.

But that was just the start. The advice was now flowing thick and fast: stop dieting and accept the shape you are - you have lost and gained the same ten pounds for the last 20 years!

What a waste of time and pointless denial of pleasure (good point); share your love and care a little wider (ouch); stop watching so much television and get out a bit more (I'd been promising myself this for a while).

The more obscure suggestions included: dye your hair blonde and become a ski guide (unlikely); learn everything there is to know about one thing and become the expert everyone turns to when they need to know about that thing (I love this one - I'm just trying to decide what thing).

I was also given the numbers of several suitors who would be "perfect" for me.

Worst of all though was a strange object I found at the bottom of the hat. I eventually deduced that this was a nasal hair trimmer.

When I pleaded for everyone to tell me if I really did have nose hair, there was an ominous silence.

All told, it was an extremely illuminating experience and to finish off, as instructed by my American counterparts, we ended the evening with a lot of positive and flattering comments being made about me to undo any possible anxiety I that may have been feeling.

All a bit too touchy-feely and American for my very British tastes, but useful for some people, I suppose. Two weeks on and the momentum of the party remains.

My make-up is now of the "less is more" variety, as taught to me by professional make-up artist Anthea Clarke and I've thrown out my dated clothes.

I have two romantic liaisons lined up with two of the men whose names went into the hat, and the diet is history (and my weight hasn't altered a jot).

I have also committed myself to one day a week of voluntary work with young offenders and have three evenings a week without television when I go instead to the theatre or cinema, and I am also going to hold a book club and discussion nights.

Rebranding yourself needs a sturdy disposition, but if you're stuck in the doldrums, I strongly suggest you order a case of wine and hold your very own party soon.

Oh, and as for the nose trimmer? My puppy now has hair-free ears and I have a regular appointment with a beautician.

[cromasaig]

Is this Maria McErlane (sp?) from the Sunday Times magazine?

Edit: yes it is, but turns out she's moved to the Mail.

Nice piece, and while I'm sure it would be a useful exercise, I definitely couldn't cope with it!

[BFG]

"Each attendee must be brutally honest about the elements of your personality they feel may be holding you back"

Why on earth would you listen to someone telling you how to be a better you? What absolute, unmitigated, self-serving, needy, sad and unforgiveable tosh.

It amazes me how many people seem to need validation from others. Why?

But that's just what I think - take it or leave it...

[Kooky]

If I gave a shit what people thought about me, my personality, my attitude, my dress sense...I'd have topped myself years ago.

[Morrolan]

Why on earth would you listen to someone telling you how to be a better you? What absolute, unmitigated, self-serving, needy, sad and unforgiveable tosh.

yes, what he said...

[Possum]

Because often others notice things about you that you don’t. Like the slow development of a moustache on the upper lip….

[canuck]

isn't that what job appraisals are all about?

OMG You have a moustache???

[baloo]

Slow ?

[Possum]

Well it doesn’t just appear overnight. When you see yourself everyday it is harder to detect changes and your style choices become habit.
Ps NO I DON”T…well at least I don’t think I do…

[canuck]

I will have to look closely when next I see you

[Burbage]

It amazes me how many people seem to need validation from others. Why?

Because there are two kinds of people in the world and most of them fall into that group.

[Possum]

PSS Everyone cares about what other people think and how they are perceived.

[Burbage]

PSS Everyone cares about what other people think and how they are perceived.

No they don't. If people don't think I'm highly intelligent, ultra cool and sophisticated that's their problem, not mine.

[Lili Von Shtupp]

I believe, with all due respect, the problem is if noone thinks you're highly intelligent, ultra cool and sophisticated.

[canuck]

[Burbage]

I believe, with all due respect, the problem is if noone thinks you're highly intelligent, ultra cool and sophisticated.

The nice thing about the world is that you are entitled to believe whatever you like, even if it's complete garbage and/or grammatically suspect.

[BFG]

I believe, with all due respect, the problem is if noone thinks you're highly intelligent, ultra cool and sophisticated.

But there is always one person who does think I'm highly intelligent, ultra cool and sophisticated

Me...

[Burbage]

Let's be brutally honest. If your happiness is determined by what the average person thinks then you are putting your life in the hands of people who think Big Brother is the height of sophisticated entertainment.

[Lili Von Shtupp]

BFG, touche.

(grammatically suspect?)

[BFG]

Let's be brutally honest. If you're happiness is determined by what the average person thinks then you are putting you life in the hands of people who think Big Brother is the height of sophisticated entertainment.

You see? That's why I worship him....

[Burbage]

BFG, can you edit my quote. It's grammatically suspect.

[canuck]

burb: you are correct

[cromasaig]

No one's suggesting their happiness is 'dependent' on it.

I think, generally speaking, women care more about what people think of them than men do. It's the flip side of intuitiveness, if you consider that a broadly feminine trait.

Also many men care a little more about what people think than they admit to. But I dare say all the men on this board are exceptions...



edit: due to typing with thumbs.

[Burbage]

"intuitiveness"?

[Lili Von Shtupp]

I knew you were going to say that...