How do I look? Angela Hartnett, chef, 34

"When I've got a sun tan I look half-decent but at the moment I look like a piece of white fish. My mum is always saying, 'Oh, you've got a lovely face, but you look so tired.' This job is just hard-going – you feel constantly drained. We're a new restaurant [The Grill at The Connaught hotel in London], we're not even three weeks old yet and I can't not be here, otherwise things will go wrong. There's too much money invested to take that risk, so for now I'm starting about seven o'clock and finishing about midnight.

"Some of us look more knackered and scruffy than others down in the kitchen, but basically we all look the same and wear the same thing. The only way you could work out the hierarchy is the fact that I'm the one making more noise than anyone else – telling people what to do. The kitchen is bloody enormous and I've lost a lot of weight from walking around it for hours. You could spend your whole day just looking for people, so I've given up – I just stand there and scream at the top of my voice, otherwise I'd be even more knackered.

"Even when I'm not tired I always have dark rings around my eyes – they're hereditary; my father had them. I remember going out with a guy once who said, 'Why do you put eye make-up on underneath your eyes?' I said, 'That's the colour of my skin, you doughnut.' That relationship lasted a treat, as you can imagine. But people generally compliment me on my eyes. They're sort of greeny-blue and if I've got colour in my face they are lovely.

"It's not part of my job to have to be groomed – the one beauty of being a chef is that you just wear the same thing, day in, day out. You don't have to fuss about it because you're wearing a sort of uniform. My jackets are made of 100 per cent Egyptian cotton, and I've probably got about 14 sets of them. They're about 70 quid each, which is bloody expensive, but they're really light – you don't feel you're wearing anything, which is good because it's so hot in the kitchen. They're a bugger to iron but they're actually very comfortable. They only come in a general size. Women chefs are still very rare, there are probably only about four women in London that wear these – but I've had them tapered in, otherwise I'd look like I was wearing a sack.

"I have to be practical, but there is a limit. I mean, I can't wear my hair down because it's not hygienic, but I wouldn't take my earrings off just because I was cooking – I just hope they don't drop in the sauce. My hair's dyed, mainly because I started getting a grey streak through it and a friend of mine, the bitch, said I looked like Rosa di Marco off EastEnders! I don't wear any make-up in the kitchen but I always wear face cream. The extraction and the heat downstairs means your face goes dry and taut – it's so hot that you're constantly reapplying it. I wouldn't say I'm vain but I do spend money on good-quality products. I've probably gone through every face cream under the sun, including that £80-a-jar La Mer stuff – I dropped the jar and was well fucked-off. My skin's quite good, so I try to convince myself that it's worth spending a small fortune – I don't think I look 34, although I know some mornings I feel 54.

"What you see is what you get with me. I'm not that bothered about my appearance, in all honesty. I'm usually only seen in chefs' whites, anyway. At the launch party for this place I wore my hair down, put on a decent pair of trousers and high heels, and everyone was like, "Oh my God! Chef!" They suddenly saw a different me and I did get quite a kick out of that, but it's not my priority right now. I'm here so much that it doesn't bother me that I look like shit. Whether I look great or look bad – it doesn't affect my life.

"I've got a big bust and I hate that just because it's uncomfortable being chesty in a kitchen where it's very hot, but apart from that I'm happy. I suppose I could lose weight from my arse and thighs but that's just laziness for you – I don't like exercise. I'm not one of those people who can eat and eat without it affecting their weight. I'm one of those people who doesn't really give a toss."

The Connaught Hotel, 16 Carlos Place, London W1 (020-7499 7070).