neighborhood watch; Desperate Housewives has thrown open the closets of the modern-day suburbanite.

Byline: Mark Holgate

The wardrobes of the women of Wisteria Lane are to be found not in pretty, pastel-packed, Pottery Barn-like closets, but racked and stacked in a 52-foot trailer that travels from the studio lot to locations across Southern California. Today, that trailer has trundled its way to the Leeds Mattress store at 11130 Sherman Way in Sun Valley, where the Desperate Housewives crew is filming a scene with Gabrielle (Eva Longoria). Now down at her Rene Caovilla heels, thanks to her husband's insider-trading conviction and subsequent incarceration, Gabrielle has had to return to her old career, namely modeling. But the days of Manhattan's runways are behind her: She's been reduced to lounging on Sealy Posturepedics in a bed showroom called the Siesta King.

Longoria plays the scene dressed in a negligee by Betsey Johnson and heels by Stuart Weitzman. Inside the trailer Catherine Adair, the costume designer, is planning that afternoon's changes. Every episode runs through 80 to 120 different outfits. Each of Longoria's costumes is labeled with tags that read things like (this will give the plot away, but what the heck) gabrielle gets the job, gabrielle models at siesta king, gabrielle gets fired.

Adair explains the modus operandi of each character's look, cross-referencing it to the outfits jammed onto the racks in anticipation of future appearances on the show: Bree (Marcia Cross) is the "midcentury modern homemaker," which means Lucilla cashmere cardigans, Etro paisley shirts, a Tracy Reese skirt suit, and a vintage Liberty scarf that Adair found for $15; Susan (Teri Hatcher) is "bohemian, ethereal" and "the most L.A.," which translates to Language henleys, a Twelfth Street by Cynthia Vincent ruffled camisole, Free People asymmetric skirts, and a Nanette Lepore beaded and appliqued velvet scarf; and Lynette (Felicity Huffman) is "the mother of four who only dresses for practicality"-in other words, J.Crew tanks, Lauren jeans, an Eileen Fisher sweater, and a Michael by Michael Kors shirt.

As for Longoria's character: "There can never be enough lingerie in Gabrielle's world," Adair says. And what isn't lingerie is certainly Lilliputian: a Catherine Malandrino teal-blue georgette slip dress with bra cups; teeny Diesel and Cache leather minis; and petite Pucci tie-tops. During a break, Longoria perches on one of the beds in the showroom and muses on her role. "She's not a small-town girl at heart," she says. "She still hankers for New York." Gabrielle does wear the odd suburban staple, but usually only if it has been modified beyond all recognition: In an upcoming episode, for example, she will don a classic Dana Buchman pink shantung A-line skirt that has been cut down to proportions that would give even Paris Hilton pause.

Desperate Housewives clearly hasn't abandoned designer labels-but neither is this the wonder-wardrobe world of Sex and the City, the last show featuring four fierce female leads to cause a media furor. Teri Hatcher thinks the comparisons that have been drawn between Desperate Housewives and Sex and the City are greatly exaggerated. "Someone said to me, 'You're the new Sarah Jessica Parker!' " Hatcher says. "But I am so not that. She gets fashion, she loves it. And she changed fashion; ...