You and Improved

That's the narrative cycle of TV's many, many makeover series, from Trading Spaces, What Not to Wear, and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to the great giant in its field, Buff Brides. Hosted by telegenic "experts," these reality shows promise to overhaul and upgrade every surface of your existence, to eliminate the embarrassing "before" in favor of the tasteful happily ever "after." They offer you a helping hand out of your big-nosed, tacky-shirted, ugly-couched, Charlie Brown-treed life, and into a gleaming fantasy of good taste and home entertainment.

The classic makeover process goes something like this:

(1) Scrutinize your home. Look closely. Is it an inelegant mess, with peeling wallpaper in the den and sour milk in the refrigerator? Are your kitchen cabinets stocked unimaginatively, lined only with macaroni and cheese and the poor man's protein fix, canned tuna?

(2) Criticize your appearance. Do you see a week of gray days under your eyes, and are you contemplating the sale of your skin to a leather factory? And your teeth: Does someone have a very special fondness for butterscotch? Have you considered becoming one of the 10,000 people who have applied to have their face rearranged on Extreme Makeover?

(3) Criticize your wardrobe, too -- the fraying khakis, the horribly saggy loafers, the ancient (but not "vintage") T-shirts. Are you actually going out in public in such infantile baseball caps? What will you wear to the holiday office party? And your white socks: How queer (and un-Queer) are they?

(4) Pause to revise, to rethink, to renovate. Is there a way out of this disgrace? What would the Fab Five advise?

Watch several of the more than 40 makeover shows on TV. Read a few remake-your-life books and scan the fashion magazines. Search high and low culture for a better-looking way to live in the world. Jot down ideas. Cut out photo fantasies. Feel the future.

Feel your wallet. Go to the beauty salons, the specialty-food markets, the furniture stores. Buy products -- especially the ones named on the shows. Deck yourself in layers of fashion.

Purchase the tickets to your happiness.

(5) And, finally, accessorize. Adopt the little flourishes that can make -- or break -- the whole gestalt. Are you ready to select a pocket square, more commonly known as a handkerchief, and casually stuff it in your pocket? Sartorial splendor is in the details.

Makeover mania. It's a definitively American phenomenon. While many of the popular makeover TV series originated in England, they naturally suit the traditional American hunger for transformation and self-realization. They are built for dreamers and yearners, for people who want to become something else, something better.

And there's nothing terribly wrong with making over, as long as you keep it in perspective. After all, you can alter every surface in your life, from your face to your coffee table, and still be unhappy. A flawlessly glazed turkey does not guarantee you'll have a lot to be thankful for at the Thanksgiving table.

Makeover shows may assert that if you heed their directives, you will find contentment and self-esteem. But, really, they don't address the insecurities that lead so many people to the makeover process in the first place. The exactly right scarf may look regal, but it will only make you queen for a day. It isn't going to fill the hole in the middle of your self-esteem, just patch it temporarily, in time for the New Year's bash.

And if you're not careful, the hunger for makeover information can lead you further away from self-realization. It can chain you to a standard of beauty and behavior that isn't right for you, one to which you will always compare yourself negatively. We are steeped in the tyranny of the glossy magazine spreads, which present models, interior designs, and cozy holiday images that are idealized and unreal. But in reality there is nothing absolute about attractiveness; it's subjective and personal. One man's ceiling mural is another man's bore.

So listen to the televised advice, collect the magazine clippings, and then throw it all out and do what you want. Develop your unique style, your particular vision of beauty, and not someone else's.