Kiss & makeover: the case against the case against tube tops

Washington Monthly, Sept, 2003 by Sarah Wildman

Flip through any consumer magazine today, and you'll find numerous "makeover" ads. These typically juxtapose the before and after pictures of, say, a head-to-toe shot of a woman whose belly is bulging over her bikini bottom and another shot of her new svelte and toned physique, promising you the same transformation if only you buy the cellulite cream or diet pills being hawked. This form of sales pitch isn't new. Corset ads from a hundred years ago also advertised their products with unseemly before and appealing after images--engravings, not photos, in that day. Since the middle of the last century, the concept of the before and after has spread throughout popular culture to movie plots and daytime TV, from the heroine of the 1954 Audrey Hepburn vehicle, Sabrina, who goes away to Paris a poor girl and comes back so fashionable she wins the rich boy to Nia Vardalos's transformation in 2002's My Big Fat Greek Wedding from a frumpy diner hostess into a sharp-dressing travel agent to the makeover specials that are a staple of talk shows like "Oprah" and "Ricki Lake." The concept is now even applied to homes on "Trading Spaces," a popular show in which a drab living room or bedroom is transformed into a splendid interior through the elbow grease of its owners' neighbors, a carpenter, a designer, and $1,000.

As with the cosmetic ads of last century, the appeal of these new shows is aspirational. The promise of the makeover story is that no one has to stay stuck in his or place, that we don't have to settle for how we look today--we can change it all tomorrow. People can move up the ladder of life with a little determination and effort (and some cash to purchase whatever product is being sold).

The latest spin on the fashion makeover is "What Not to Wear" on The Learning Channel, the same station that gave us "Trading Spaces." What makes this show different is that the person being made over hasn't volunteered for the transformation--the subject is virtually forced into it, presumably for his or her own good. Each episode begins like this: A badly-dressed person, usually a woman, is recommended by friends, family, or co-workers to the network. With the help of hidden cameras, the unsuspecting naif is then surreptiously videotaped for two weeks as she runs around in flannel shirts and frumpy jeans, after which the show's hosts watch the videos, murmur their horror and plan an intervention. Together, the hosts descend upon their "victim" (as they call her) in some public place. When the cameras find this person, invariably sitting with the so-called friends who set her up, the hosts tell her that friends and family have selected her for a makeover on "What Not to Wear." When the victim hears the title of the show, she usually drops her head in shame and humiliation, until she hears that she will be given $5,000 to remake her wardrobe in New York City.

The hosts set strict rules for their victims: No pants that taper at the ankle, cashmere cashmere cashmere, think of brown as a neutral color, etc. For each person there is the tailored snide comment: The slut, for example, will be told not to show "it all," to keep some of "it" hidden, and not to go so tight, while the opposite rules usually apply for the housewife. Humiliated, the ill-dressed one then makes her or his way into the city for one day of shopping alone and one day of shopping with the hosts, armed with a fist full of cash. The camera pans up to big name stores--Barneys, Saks, Searle--as the victim is escorted in and out of fancy shops and the hosts coo in her ear about how much better she's looking already, just holding a $500 leather jacket. Following her shopping spree, the victim gets a cut-n-color and professional makeup application, after which she travels back to home for the traditional "reveal" moment before friends and family. In a video diary, the originally feisty fashion victim relays how she has come to realize the error of her old ways.

One can't watch the show without thinking that the "victims" really do benefit from a fashion makeover overall, and it's fun to watch it happen. Yet there's something fundamentally mean about the show, which is no surprise given its origins. Like so many other shows with a caustic attitude, from "The Weakest Link" to "Big Brother" and "American Idol," "What Not To Wear" is a British import. And like these other programs, it seems to be catching fire with the American public. "What Not To Wear" drew an average of 2.7 million viewers for each of its first 10 episodes, despite being tucked away at 10 p.m. on Saturday nights. The success of the show has prompted TLC to pick up the program for a second season, filming 45 new episodes and bumping it into a better time slot. Don't blame the producers for its brand of acerbic humor. The success of "What Not To Wear" indicates it is effectively tapping into changes in American culture. One is the spread of snobbery--once a characteristic relatively confined to the upper middle classes--down the income scale. Apparently, it is no longer enough to aspire to style; one must now look down on those without it. The other trend on which the show draws is the prevalent notion that any mild personality quirk can be deemed a condition requiring professional treatment. No longer a matter of personality or personal choice, idiosyncrasies from mild social phobia to excessive pessimism are now seen as abnormal tendencies, requiring quasi-medical intervention.