Every week I dine at least once in each of campus’s hottest locations: the Business School and the Law School.

Why are these spots such desirable lunching venues? Well it’s not because of the food (though the parmesan chicken sandwich at the B-school is very, very good). Nor is it because of the stirring architecture or flawless service. No, like so many great eateries, these two are wonderful places to see and to be seen.

It’s perhaps going a little far to claim everyone goes with the intention of either putting themselves on display or of ogling the rest of the clientele. Nevertheless, there’s always something to see.

The spectacle is somewhat less, well, spectacular at the Law School. In fact, at first glance the cafeteria patrons there seem little different from anywhere else on campus.

Close examination, though, reveals a little more polish than one might have expected from students — there’s hardly a hoodie in sight and untucked shirts are few and far between. It’s walking into the Arbuckle Cafe, however, that takes ?polish? to whole new level.

It’s as if you’ve entered the secret world of catalogue models. Yes, that?s right, when not showing off Macy’s latest fall line, the perfectly coiffed set hangs out in the GSB.

Now, make no mistake, this is not simply a case of better looks at the B-School. No, this is so much more. To be honest, I?m not even sure that those soon-to-be Masters of the Universe are intrinsically prettier than your typical electrical engineer (remember, I did say Macy’s, not Abercrombie and Fitch).

No, rather than beauty, what marks the MBA folks out from the crowd is preparation. Their clothes are ironed. Let me say that again: ironed. Who irons their clothes to go to school? Personally, when I crawl out of bed in the morning it’s as much as I can manage to find clothes; ironing is a whole other world.

Furthermore, everyone seems to be well-produced as well. Hair is fixed in place, make-up is artfully applied and faces universally show the kind of natural, healthy glow that can only come out of a bottle.

Of course, it’s not just the fact that everyone’s well turned out that sets up the modeling aura. They pose as well. Presumably not intentionally, but it seems that in whatever direction you look you?re met with a tableau that just screams “buy this shirt.”

In fact, everyone looks so bright and shiny, it’s often hard to tear your eyes away. It’s a little like celebrity gawking, but without the celebrities. You know, with those long contemplative stares as you think: “I wonder what it’s like being one of them?”

Even at the beginning of the season, when they were wandering around at lunch with nametags pinned to lapels and textbooks clutched in hand, the future CEOs of America still managed to look like they were at a high-powered conference rather than the first day of school.

Actually, it wouldn’t be quite accurate to say everyone looks like they belong in the corporate world. There?s a veneer of studied plasticity as well, so they instead look like the movie version of corporate characters.

Now, thanks to the Daily’s GSB insider we know that this is all just an image. Seemingly, the executives don?t eat kangaroo while endlessly networking (“Kangaroo meat, open bars and other GSB myths,” Oct. 19). But, you know, they do make it seem like they munch on marsupials, which is really all that matters.

I suppose that with the products, the ironing and the posing, it would be all too easy to dismiss the Business School image as superficial. That, however, is completely missing the point. Superficiality is not a bad thing. The shiny, happy people add an extra facet to campus life.

Yes, despite the distinct possibility that you?re missing a dimension or two, Mr. and Ms. Business, we salute you. It may be a wildly inaccurate caricature that we hold dear, but at least it’s something we can gaze longingly at.

In the B-School? Think you?re more Abercrombie and Fitch than Macy’s? Or just want to demonstrate that you have all three dimensions. E-mail navins@stanford.edu and show me.