Den of Dreams

NY Times ^ | May 29, 2004 | DAVID BROOKS

[neverdem]

Older readers will remember the golden era, long before every show on television was a makeover show. But that was before "This Old House" begat "Trading Spaces," which begat "While You Were Out," which begat "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," which begat "Pimp My Ride" (fixing up cars and bikes).

Now the airwaves are filled with sexually ambiguous young male designers, bubbly female colorists in tight T-shirts, and sensitive but studly carpenters, who descend upon bland suburban rec rooms, closets and garages while the owner is away or in a coma. In a flurry of exuberance and flirtation, they transform a once normal if unremarkable room into the interior design equivalent of the old Funkadelic concert costumes.

These shows feature scintillating shots of trucks being unloaded, sewing machines humming along and paint rollers being pushed up and down walls. One would think shows like this would be as boring as watching paint dry since they sometimes consist of watching paint dry.

But viewers are enthralled! Most Americans are homeowners, and in a spirit of democratic fellow feeling, they want to be able to peer voyeuristically into other people's houses to make sure their neighbor's den is even uglier than their own. And they want to see that den instantly, magically, inexpensively transformed into the Den of Dreams — the sort of den to wash away care and herald the coming of paradise on earth.

So the shows proliferate. There are by now thousands of families — guided by the dictum that there is no zone of privacy we will not violate in our quest to become cable channel celebrities — who have allowed troops of former Club Med bartenders and high school Mean Girls into their basements to transform their drab little lives. Otherwise proud citizens meekly submit to their aesthetic superiors, who introduce them to ever-higher levels of vanity and shallowness.

These shows began in a fit of BBC/PBS high-mindedness. Rustic farmhouses would be patiently restored by squads of interior environmentalists while the rest of us gasped over the width and integrity of the floorboards. But, of course, all entertainment concepts must be run through the Vulgarizer, so faster than you can say particleboard, you had the instant home renovation shows up and down the TV dial.

It's practically inevitable that next season a new generation of makeover shows will emerge:

• "PIMP MY TAX RETURN!" Teams of comely accountants trick out your 1099 with chrome loopholes.

• "TRADING MEDS!" Hilarious mayhem ensues when lethargic depressives exchange pharmaceuticals with hyperactive psychopaths.

• "SURPRISE! YOU'RE JOAN RIVERS!" While an unsuspecting mom sleeps, she is transformed surgically into the home shopping diva.

• "EXTREME MIDDLE EAST MAKEOVER WITH GEORGE BUSH!" Explains itself.

• "GUESS MY TRANSPLANT!" Each contestant has a major organ transplant, and friends and family have to guess which one.

• "LAW AND ORDER: CABINET EDITION!" The team chases down ruthless kitchen renovators.

The secret of the makeover genre is The Reveal. That's the moment when the original owner, who had been happily enjoying a few days away, returns home to find that her comfortable old kitchen/closet/husband/St. Bernard has been transformed into a Vegas theme-restaurant version of itself. Confronted with this domestic invasion, and surrounded at the moment of discovery by TV cameras and squads of off-puttingly attractive young people, the victim inevitably still squeals with delight.

Ours is a culture built upon the dream of transformation — the idea that through some drastic change in your material surroundings, you can take a giant leap toward happiness.

Think of it! One day you're on the train to work, while back home, an R.V. pulls into your driveway and klatches of the peppy and sexually available young people start going through your collection of mantelpiece kitsch, accumulated over a lifetime of semi-inebriated vacations. While the nation watches, they will clean away the detritus of your former existence — and when you return, to the glare of the TV lights and the gaping millions, you will have been given a new existence! And such will be your delight at the prospect of change and renewal, you won't notice that the life you have been given is actually Liberace's.

[ETERNAL WARMING]

flurry of exuberance and flirtation

Hey! I love that flurry of exuberance and flirtation. But then I'm into decorating. I've been featured on Christopher Lowell Show 5 times. :0)

I must say, however, there is a true lack of talent out there. How they get their own shows, I don't know.

Even Christopher goes overboard.

But the Designer Guys and Candice Olsen of Devine Design can do my rooms anytime.

The worst of the worst however has got to be the Brits. Ground Force excepted, naturally. Nobody beats their gardens..nobody.

[CyberAnt]

"Candice Olsen of Devine Design can do my rooms anytime"

Wow! I love that show.

This may be weird, but when I have overdosed on all the Bush-haters, I find it soothing to watch a few decorating shows. I think what I like is there's a goal, there's a plan, and then there's a solution.

[WL-law]

I just realized -- the original "reality TV" show was "Queen For a Day"! It's all about transformation.