The It men polish off the IT men

Emmanuel Petit and Frank Lampard arrived wearing Marharishi combats and cream ribbed sweaters. Dalla Bonna is the most naturally stylish; he wore David Beckham's woolly hat, long hair and dark jeans.

Mario Stanic, who played for Parma for two years, said he only ever buys Italian clothes. Mark Bosnich had rather rashly brought with him a pair of Gucci snaffle loafers; the woman from Armani hurled them from the room.

Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink was first in line for his fitting - "E 'az enormous thighs," the tailor from Armani whispered in my ear. Jimmy didn't seem too impressed with his brand new suit. "It's for old men," he moaned.

"No no, it's the newest shape," cried the man from Armani through a mouth of pins, "we have nipped in ze waist and softened ze trouser."

Hasselbaink ("He's a striker," my boyfriend told me down my mobile in a scenario straight out of Cyrano de Bergerac) was told to bring his own shoes and belt for the photo call the next morning. "Armani or Versace?" he quipped as he shuffled off for his shower.

Forty suits had been shipped over from Milan that morning - for each member of the squad plus managers and coaches - and gradually players filled the dressing room so that it resembled a scene from Are You Being Served?

Captain Marcel Desailly, who told me he always wears Armani and, no, he doesn't have a spare pair of Final tickets (players are given four, and can buy an extra 18), was told his sleeve will ride up with wear.

William Gallas was next; he still wears small white jockeys, so I don't think he has a girlfriend.

Eidur Gudjohnsen arrived barefoot in jeans and white T-shirt; he is the only shy one on the team, and insisted on getting changed behind the clothes rail. Gianfranco Zola (I kept calling him Emile) is so small even I could get the ball off him.

I asked Petit if his hair ever got in the way. I asked Lampard if he irons his own shirts. "Of course," he said. Jesper Gronkjaer, who I called Gudjohnsen by mistake, took off his socks and I thought he was going to throw them at me.

The BBC camera crew who were filming the surreal scene started to look down on my fashion questions, and actually snorted whenever I asked if someone was going to start the match or be on the 'subs' desk'.

I soon figured out that the only way to get a good quote was to tell each player how much I hated Arsenal, their opponents on Saturday.

Arsenal's choice of charcoal-grey Hugo Boss suits to wear to the Final was always going to be an own goal. The cut, the weave and the label just don't smack of a champion.

Hugo Boss is worn by IT men and sales reps, not world-class champions. The choice of a white shirt and white tie by Cecil Gee is reminiscent of weddings.

Thirty Arsenal players and 15 back-room staff have been given the suits for free.

And the truth is Arsenal simply don't look as expensive and polishedas the Chelsea squad - I know that Thierry Henry cost upwards of £10 million, but he really has to do something about his hair. Patrick Vieira may be the best midfielder in the business, but he is always going to be gangly.

What can I say about David Seaman? He is a throwback to the Seventies, with his Jason King 'tache and ridiculous pony-tail; perhaps he has been fitted with enormous flares.

And what to do about Martin Keown? They are already one man down in the style stakes.