Today, CeBIT 2007 closes its doors for another year. And so, as the exhibitors pack up their electric lederhosen, telepathic computers, and Wi-Fi trouser presses and roll onto the next trade fair, we salute the unspoken heroines of the week-long gadgetstravaganza. Yes, the booth laydeez.

Normally Giz's resident laydeeologists, erudite, intellectual types such as Charlie, Jason, or Louis, give their views on these hostesses with the mostess, but they don't seem to be around (I did shout "Wakey Wakey, Hands Off Snakey" into the Gizmodo lair but my words echoed eerily around the office). So this time your laydee commentary is going to be done by someone who knows about them better than anyone else on the team—Ad—and that's because I am one.

So you can forget about any "Look at the peripherals on that"-style comments, and instead concentrate on the whole package. There's a gallery there for those of you who lost the power of speech when you fixated on the four laydeez above, and if anyone else wants to join me after the jump, I'm the one in the tangerine leisurewear and turquoise eyeshadow.

We've done the Good (four of them, actually), so let's tackle the Bad. Now then, girl on the left, you are Not Bad. Don't get me wrong, you are Good. I like the way you mix business with pleasure. The top-half combo of orange neckerchief and round-necked jersey says, "I am businesslike, I have been fully briefed on the product that I am selling, although personally I prefer Sony Ericsson, I am an IT student at Leipzig University, I am just doing this to pay the bills and no, you can't have my telephone number" —while the bottom half shrieks (in a dignified, New Germany kind of way, you understand) a completely different message.

Shall I translate it for you? "Hello, techie journalist," it is saying. "Yes, you can come and pretend to talk to me about Nokia whilst admiring the endless trajectory of my slightly-tanned-but-not-too-much-as-I-don't-want-them-to-match-my-skirt legs. But that, sir is totally out of the question." She's a good booth babe, despite the fact that her expression is less come-hither but more go-fuck-yourself. Well, after six days of techie journalists, wouldn't you?

I like her, it's her two friends I'm not so sure about. Yep, the two dressed up as nylon policemen, who look like they have been out on the lash all night, the last two girls from the bachelorette party who got lost on their way to the airport and have been trawling around Hanover for the past three weeks trying to raise enough money to get another flight home and are really pissed because they missed spring break and German guys are no fun at all and, Candice, you're not listening to me, just stop staring at the journalist, you can't think he's hot, oh, you think he can help us get back to Cincinnati before my mom finds out that I stole her nylon jumpsuit with the open crotch that she wears whenever she gets to the second date?

I know that there is something about chicks in uniform that guys dig. I accept that (I must admit, I get warm and nostalgic just thinking about Rosa Klebb and her spiked shoes in From Russia With Love), but there are ways of doing it. Just see the gallery—bare tummies and expressions that scream, "Ooh, you have been a naughty boy and I am going to have to arrest you and take down your particulars." But a smelly all-in-one boilersuit is just wrong.

And finally, to the Ugly. Oh Memory Corp, what were you thinking? That a smorgasbord of nipples, leg warmers, heinous sewing box-cum-handbag, full-body Hammer House Of Horror makeup, pastel pink aerobics trainers, Louis XV wig and motorbike parked in the background will bring people running to your stand? I suppose it depends where the stand is. I mean, if you were exhibiting in a high-security loony bin then yes, you would have a stampede.

And another thing. With a creature like that fronting your product, you'd better be selling something that wipes memory. Completely, or the CeBit hacks will be complaining of recurring nighmares in which a French Fop made from Cotton Candy tries to run them down on his motorbike to the sounds of Olivia Newton John's (Let's Get) Physical. And you do not, my friends, want your product associated with that. – Ad Dugdale

CeBit 2007 Girls [TechPowerUp!]