SON number three got himself an internship with a large company in Leeds over the summer. Given that he is a student, who dresses in what even his brothers describe as ‘scuzzy’ clothes, he was in desperate need of a makeover before he could be released into the wider world.

He lives in scruffy jeans, a battered pair of trainers and a selection of baggy T-shirts and shirts, many of which he proudly boasts are ‘vintage’ or ‘retro’. But to many people, they are just old, washed out jumble from second hand shops. (That’s marketing for you).

I bought him a suit, one shirt and a tie for his initial interview. We didn’t think it was worth buying a pair of good, smart black leather shoes that, should he not be accepted, he would only wear once. So he had to make do with a £13 ‘leather-effect’ pair from Primark.

He brushed up well. I think he quite liked the transformation. But then, when he was young, Patrick always did enjoy pulling out costumes from the dressing up box and parading about the house in various guises, which usually involved donning a cape and claiming he possessed special powers.

Somehow, he managed to persuade the company that he would be a perfect fit for their plush and gleaming office environment, where the men wear crisply ironed shirts, smart pressed suits and tasteful ties.

But a few weeks before he was due to start, he began to panic: “You’re going to have to take me on a shopping trip,” he pleaded. It had just dawned on him that he would have to dress up every day of the week for six weeks.

“I am going to need a second suit. I can’t wear the same one every day. My Primark shoes have ripped. And I’ll have to have more shirts and ties,” he said.

So we set off on another shopping trip, which cost a small fortune, especially considering he still has a final year to do at university so won’t be wearing any of these clothes for some time after his work experience stint.

Unless, of course, he uses them for dressing up.

“I just hope you don’t grow any more over the next year, as these clothes will have to last you Patrick,” I warned him. “And you’d better not end up working as a fireman or a lumberjack or an underwater diver because I want you to get some use out of them.”

A few weeks before he was due to start the internship he got a letter to say he was being sent on a three-day residential course first. It informed him that he was to wear ‘casual business wear’ during the day and ‘smart casual dress’ in the evenings.

“What does it mean?” I said, staring at the words, which might as well have been in a foreign language. Was it a game or challenge that was actually part of the assessment process? If so, this was a dress code Patrick couldn’t crack and I was pretty sure he didn’t possess any clothes that fitted the bill.

So we went on another shopping expedition in search of smart-but-not-suit trousers, shirts that were relaxed but semi-formal, smart jeans and a selection of casual shirts. He also needed two additional pairs of shoes that we thought might fit the additional codes.

By the end of the month, I had bought Patrick more new clothes than I had had over the previous three years.

But at last, at the beginning of August the internship finally began. Staying in digs in Leeds, he phoned me at the end of the first week to fill me in on how it was all going.

“And how are all the new clothes going down?” I asked him.

“Oh, I forgot to say. When I got there on the first day, they told me it was ‘Dress Down August’.”

“Dress Down August? Dress Down August?” I screeched in disbelief. I’d heard of Dress Down Fridays, but not Dress Down Augusts.

“So what sort of clothes is everybody wearing?” I asked him.

“All sorts, jeans and T-shirts mainly,” he said. He feels he’s fitting in quite well.