
What would any reality TV show be without sabotage, hypocrisy and heated arguments?
And that's not just the likes of "Survivor" and "I Love New York."
Even the fashion-related reality programs serve up their share of salacious scandal, with millions of viewers tuning in regularly to witness people plucked from obscurity behaving badly as they compete in front of never-sleeping cameras for six-figure prizes and potentially life-changing exposure.
Conflict plus fashion equals good TV, and it attracts the curious to a growing list of style-genre shows such as "Project Runway," "America's Next Top Model," "Tabatha's Salon Takeover," "Stylista" and "The Rachel Zoe Project."
It would be unfair to summarily dismiss reality shows of this genre as trash or superficial fluff, or their contestants as desperate weirdos out for instant fame or quick money. Although some competitors are over-the-top and some shows are less substantive than others, beneath all of the drama lies something that can make contestants and viewers better people.
That may sound like a stretch, but such shows are culturally relevant. They deal with a universal concept -- personal appearance. That's why they're so engaging. They compel participants to assess what's going on inside themselves in order to address how it influences them externally -- and we, the viewers, get to look and learn.
From clothing to grooming, all of us make daily decisions about our personal appearances. And if we watch these programs closely, it isn't hard to find something of ourselves in that emerging designer, that aspiring model, that fledgling stylist or troubled salon owner -- even that person who badly needed a total style makeover and got a new lease on life in the process.
Subtly and sometimes not so subtly, fashion-related reality shows reinforce the idea that change is a fact of life, change can be good, and success in any endeavor comes with sacrifice. Probably the best example -- and, ironically, the least contentious -- is "Tim Gunn's Guide to Style."
As "Guide to Style" has shown in two seasons, the world is full of people who schlep around looking far less than their best. They care about their appearance, but they seldom understand why it's subpar and are always clueless about how to improve it.
Gunn has a knack for getting women to look honestly at themselves, and into themselves, to get an accurate sense of who they are, where they are, and where they want to go. He helps them understand how their appearance is key to all of this, and he knows how to make them look better and feel better without belittling them.
Although he works with women, there's some take-away for the male audience. Choosing the right underwear and dressing according to one's body type are important regardless of gender, and there are just as many men as women who need direction.
Gunn may be the most influential style expert on television, which makes sense, as he is chief creative officer for Liz Claiborne and former chair of fashion design for Parson's The New School of Design.
He pulls double duty on fashion reality TV, having served as on-air mentor to design contestants on the award-winning "Project Runway" each of its five seasons.
Both "Project Runway" and "American's Next Top Model" provide invaluable exposure to all of their contestants. Whereas "Guide to Style" focuses on transforming one individual, "Runway" and "Next Top Model" are competitions that, through process of elimination, result in one winner who gets a large cash prize and high-profile exposure to jump-start a career.
There's always scandal and suspense, but viewers can also get an education.
For people interested in becoming fashion designers, "Runway" sheds light on the importance of creativity, organization and technical training. For those seeking modeling careers, "Next Top Model" drives home the essential need for versatility, flexibility and self-awareness.
Even viewers uninterested in becoming a designer or model can appreciate the universal lessons of discipline, determination and good communication skills that these shows teach.
There's also the reality that fashion and beauty are as much a business as they are anything else. "Stylista" and "Rachel Zoe" make it clear that being a stylist is more than a notion. It requires hard work, attention to detail, and an ability to negotiate a range of relationships and personalities.
Sometimes the business aspect is the focus, as on "Tabatha's Salon Takeover." Tabatha Coffey, a top hairstylist and salon owner, assesses and overhauls beauty shops that are failing for any number of reasons: mediocre workers, inept management, unclean or inefficient facilities.
The draw is obvious. Who hasn't waited far too long in a salon, encountered an unprofessional stylist, had a hair disaster or had just been turned off by clutter or filth? Coffey metes out lots of tough love, but she invariably leaves a shop in better physical condition, more efficiently operated and ultimately better able to serve customers.
Americans seem almost obsessed with the idea of transformation, a fascination reflected in the current popularity of so many reality TV shows that offer the illusion of instant change. Add to that a nation's eternal optimism, and it's easier to understand why a new wardrobe or a shot at the big time is worth the trade-off of thrusting oneself under the merciless microscope of reality TV.