MARK HILL - writer guy
Trading spaces while you were out changing rooms with Teresa Strasser
Originally published in
The Ottawa Citizen
Trading spaces while you were out changing rooms with Teresa Strasser
by Mark Hill
If you can figure out how someone who considers his room decorated if there's a sleeping bag on the bed gets addicted to home renovation TV, please let me know. This is a serious inquiry. I'm a guy whose bathroom contains six copies of Maxim and a Victoria's Secret catalogue, but no clean towels. Yet I've spent the past three weeks glued to my television devouring an endless parade of interior design makeover shows.
It all started on a recent Saturday when my sister, her best friend and I gathered to redecorate Mom's bedroom. TLC was running a design marathon — alternating episodes of Trading Spaces and While You Were Out. To put us in the mood, I switched it on. At first I watched only because my sister was doing all the work, I had nothing much to do, and both shows featured nubile young hosts whose decorating duties occasionally required them to bend down and pick things up. But by the end of the night I was a changed man. The old Mark was gone, replaced by a guy who looked like me but held strong opinions about pastels, was violently opposed to painting over brickwork, and felt it was really important to start with a primary colour and add accents.
From then, I was hooked. And TV was more than happy to feed my addiction. I flicked through the TV Times and discovered there really was no end to these shows. You could switch homes with a friend and renovate. You could send someone away and secretly re-do their room. You could get a designer in and do the work yourself or invite in a whole team to do the job for you. TV offered every possible combination on the reality makeover theme and I watched them all.
As the days progressed, patterns emerged. While each show varied slightly in basic premise, certain elements were common to all. As the demand for these shows appears limitless and you may want to kick off an exciting new career by producing one of your own, I've noted the key ingredients here.
First, you need a host. She must be cute and female. I don't know why since, to my knowledge, men don't watch these shows, but it's important for the program to be fronted by an attractive young woman. The job of the host is to build tension, to make you think it's all going to go horribly wrong. Hosts say things like "When your husband gets home, do you think he's going to like the pink walls and gold lamé curtains in his home office?" or "We've got twenty-six minutes left and you've still got to paint the ceiling and build an armoire, how do you feel?"
And the guests always fall for it! They panic and go all wide-eyed and nervously say things like "it's so different." It makes you wonder if they've ever actually watched the show. If they did, they'd certainly know that problems always get fixed, the job always gets finished, and most husbands secretly have a thing for gold lamé.
Your show also needs a male carpenter whose job is to cut wood, build things, and be really good-looking (an exception to this rule exists in shows from Britain where there are no good looking men so the job of the carpenter is to be funny). In both Trading Spaces and While You Were Out the carpenters are actually former models and, according to my sister and her best friend, it's impossible to say which is the cuter. Ever the hard-working journalist, I brought this dilemma via e-mail to the attention of the host of While You Were Out who responded that "both are talented and handsome, why choose just one," which is the sort of thing you can only say when you look like Teresa Strasser.
Finally, you need a team of designers. The designer's job is to sell his concept while still maintaining the myth that the homeowners are actually part of the decision making process. It helps to be able to sound believable saying things like "You said you wanted a warm, traditional, Victorian-era look, which is why I brought plenty of day-glo paint and orange satin seat covers."
With these elements, a reality makeover show can be interesting, exciting and even motivating. I, for example, am now seriously considering re-doing my bedroom. In fact, I've already picked out a lovely sleeping bag that will be perfect for my warm, traditional, Victorian-era look.
Now if I could just find a nice place for the gold lamé.
— 30 --
Ottawa writer Mark Hill applies paint evenly using short, smooth strokes.
The Ottawa Citizen
Trading spaces while you were out changing rooms with Teresa Strasser
by Mark Hill
If you can figure out how someone who considers his room decorated if there's a sleeping bag on the bed gets addicted to home renovation TV, please let me know. This is a serious inquiry. I'm a guy whose bathroom contains six copies of Maxim and a Victoria's Secret catalogue, but no clean towels. Yet I've spent the past three weeks glued to my television devouring an endless parade of interior design makeover shows.
It all started on a recent Saturday when my sister, her best friend and I gathered to redecorate Mom's bedroom. TLC was running a design marathon — alternating episodes of Trading Spaces and While You Were Out. To put us in the mood, I switched it on. At first I watched only because my sister was doing all the work, I had nothing much to do, and both shows featured nubile young hosts whose decorating duties occasionally required them to bend down and pick things up. But by the end of the night I was a changed man. The old Mark was gone, replaced by a guy who looked like me but held strong opinions about pastels, was violently opposed to painting over brickwork, and felt it was really important to start with a primary colour and add accents.
From then, I was hooked. And TV was more than happy to feed my addiction. I flicked through the TV Times and discovered there really was no end to these shows. You could switch homes with a friend and renovate. You could send someone away and secretly re-do their room. You could get a designer in and do the work yourself or invite in a whole team to do the job for you. TV offered every possible combination on the reality makeover theme and I watched them all.
As the days progressed, patterns emerged. While each show varied slightly in basic premise, certain elements were common to all. As the demand for these shows appears limitless and you may want to kick off an exciting new career by producing one of your own, I've noted the key ingredients here.
First, you need a host. She must be cute and female. I don't know why since, to my knowledge, men don't watch these shows, but it's important for the program to be fronted by an attractive young woman. The job of the host is to build tension, to make you think it's all going to go horribly wrong. Hosts say things like "When your husband gets home, do you think he's going to like the pink walls and gold lamé curtains in his home office?" or "We've got twenty-six minutes left and you've still got to paint the ceiling and build an armoire, how do you feel?"
And the guests always fall for it! They panic and go all wide-eyed and nervously say things like "it's so different." It makes you wonder if they've ever actually watched the show. If they did, they'd certainly know that problems always get fixed, the job always gets finished, and most husbands secretly have a thing for gold lamé.
Your show also needs a male carpenter whose job is to cut wood, build things, and be really good-looking (an exception to this rule exists in shows from Britain where there are no good looking men so the job of the carpenter is to be funny). In both Trading Spaces and While You Were Out the carpenters are actually former models and, according to my sister and her best friend, it's impossible to say which is the cuter. Ever the hard-working journalist, I brought this dilemma via e-mail to the attention of the host of While You Were Out who responded that "both are talented and handsome, why choose just one," which is the sort of thing you can only say when you look like Teresa Strasser.
Finally, you need a team of designers. The designer's job is to sell his concept while still maintaining the myth that the homeowners are actually part of the decision making process. It helps to be able to sound believable saying things like "You said you wanted a warm, traditional, Victorian-era look, which is why I brought plenty of day-glo paint and orange satin seat covers."
With these elements, a reality makeover show can be interesting, exciting and even motivating. I, for example, am now seriously considering re-doing my bedroom. In fact, I've already picked out a lovely sleeping bag that will be perfect for my warm, traditional, Victorian-era look.
Now if I could just find a nice place for the gold lamé.
— 30 --
Ottawa writer Mark Hill applies paint evenly using short, smooth strokes.