A rose by any other name: Snog, Marry, Avoid
I haven't done a post about TV for a while, so I thought I'd talk about the surprise gem that is Snog, Marry, Avoid on Friday nights on Ch11 (Perth).
For a start, that title, *shudder*. Snog is one of my least favourite words in the universe, but let's try to look past it.
The premise of the show is that British girls are overdoing the fakery in the quest for beauty, and in the process are losing sight of their own natural beauty. The show gives them a make-under, removing their heavy makeup, fake tans, false eyelashes, hair extensions, body glitter, and frighteningly skanky clothes. They occasionally tackle an alternative type to normalise them a bit if they're curious, but one of the nice parts of the show is that they don't force make-unders on people if they seem completely happy and comfortable in themselves. They get their little interview and if they're deemed happy they are released back into the wild unharmed and unmodded.
The title comes from the part of the process where members of the public are shown pictures of the girls (and sometimes boys, but mostly girls) in their best clubbing gear and asked if they would (a) Snog, (b) Marry, or (c) Avoid them. Naturally the majority of the results in the Before state are for Avoid, although there's often a healthy dose of Snog votes too. Excess Snog votes are seen as undesirable for girls who are attempting to attract nice men with a sense of humour. It turns out that dressing like a bimbo gets plenty of attention but not a lot of companionship or respect.
Other questions are thrown in, sometimes asking people to guess their age (their makeup usually adds about 10 years because they look like they're trying too hard). Or would someone buy them (a) a kebab, (b) dinner, or (c) jewellry. Other questions basically ask if the girl looks intelligent, thick, or a skank. It's a rough instrument I'll allow, so I try not to pay too much attention to this part of the production, but it does provide anecdotal insight to both participant and viewer.
The Before stories are sometimes quite poignant. Many of the girls featured have no confidence whatsoever in their own natural appearance and have moulded themselves into terrifying parodies of beauty and sexiness. One girl refused to answer her front door unles she was in full makeup. Others are quite convinced of their sexiness (if not their beauty) and are puzzled by all the Avoid votes. They wear terrifyingly skimpy outfits - G-strings and pasties, bits of tape, no underwear, scraps of tulle, a scattering of glitter. Pixellation is often required in the dancing sequences because bits of their anatomy frequently fall out.
In the studio the girls interact with POD (the Personal Overhaul Device), a faceless female computer voice who is firm but kind. She is frequently witty and harsh, but never cruel. Some of the participants give as good as they get, but at worst everyone agrees to disagree. It's terribly civilised. In season 1 the banter was a bit flat but it really picked up in season 2.
So, they're stripped of their slap (British for excess makeup), dressed nicely but still interestingly, made up subtly, are given hair that looks decidedly less plastic (a lot of harsh bright blonde gets replaced with mahogany brown), and look generally lovely. So many of them have gorgeous blue or green eyes that jusy pop once all the heavy makeup and pale hair is taken away. The Snog/Marry/Avoid question is repeated, with surprise surprise significantly more positive results.
Their reactions to their transformations are varied. Most like some things and dislike others, which is fair enough. Many have trouble recognising themselves at all. But the real payoffs for me are the ones who realise that they *are* attractive after all, and that they can still look sexy without letting everything hang out. That natural skin tones do look nicer than inches of foundation and orange fake tan. That more makeup does not equal more beauty. Sometimes eyes are brightened by tiny tears. Not the usual buckets of reality tv crocodile tears, but real expressions of relief. "Wow," they say, "I'm not ugly after all. I don't need all that makeup."
YAY!
In amongst the main action there are small segments collecting vox pop "beauty tips"--to avoid--such as spraying your face with hairspray to fix makeup in place, or shoving egg yolks up your nose 6 hours before partying to avoid heel blisters (I may have made that one up). The odd more sensible tip is tested out by the host - I like the sound of rapidly setting nailpolish by plunging your fingertips into cold water. That sort of thing. It all moves along quite snappily, although I confess I'm growing tired of the blaring theme music.
After the make-under the girls (mostly) are then filmed meeting up with their loved ones for the reveal, and then a followup 3 months later to see if they've stuck with the changes. Again there's a wide variety of reactions after that three months. While some completely reject any changes basically because they refuse to change, others revert to their original look but feel more secure in their own identity. They might still have frightening style, but at least they've tried something different and are now more confident about their own choices.
There's the odd really sad case (I'm thinking of a particular person under media scrutiny who gets put on worst dressed lists and the like) where the participant just can't see how much better they look afterwards. They remain convinced that they are ugly when in reality they are utterly gorgeous. The show has both light and shade.
Not many completely take on the new look, and I imagine it would be quite difficult to maintain the momentum of a look kicked off by a team of style professionals. The most common response is to take on board some percentage of the make-under and to modify their style in a positive way. That might be switching from using SIX sets of false eyelashes at once to only using one pair. Or it could be a change from always getting both legs and tits out to being a bit more selective. People dedicated to wearing only a single colour are coaxed into intruducing something new now and then. The difference after this time is that it's voluntary. Foundation might not disappear, but it's certainly not plastered on.
Sometimes people take part as a favour to families and friends who miss the real them. There's also a healthy dose of impatience at massive amounts of time taken to go out. Results for these girls (and this category is almost exclusively girls) tend to be more varied, but it's sometimes even nicer to see positive long term changes when the girl went in without any intent to change permanently. They've ignored the advice of family and friends that they don't need all the makeup, and go in with no plans to change their minds, but then they're pleasantly surprised; they're true converts.
I'm not sure I've sold this properly, nor do I have the energy to convey how positive the experience looks for the majority of participants. I actually saw season 2 before the current repeats of season 1, and the show definitely matured and settled in the second season, so I started at the right end.
I like to watch people grow in confidence, and for the right reasons. You don't see a lot of that on reality tv.
(PS Husband refuses to be in the house when I watch this. He'll reluctantly accept all the science, dancing, explosions, cycling, murder, and violence I want, but this he cannot bear. Fair enough - it looks utterly appalling on the surface and the music *is* grating. We have a reciprocal agreement for unacceptable viewing subjects so it goes both ways.)
For a start, that title, *shudder*. Snog is one of my least favourite words in the universe, but let's try to look past it.
The premise of the show is that British girls are overdoing the fakery in the quest for beauty, and in the process are losing sight of their own natural beauty. The show gives them a make-under, removing their heavy makeup, fake tans, false eyelashes, hair extensions, body glitter, and frighteningly skanky clothes. They occasionally tackle an alternative type to normalise them a bit if they're curious, but one of the nice parts of the show is that they don't force make-unders on people if they seem completely happy and comfortable in themselves. They get their little interview and if they're deemed happy they are released back into the wild unharmed and unmodded.
The title comes from the part of the process where members of the public are shown pictures of the girls (and sometimes boys, but mostly girls) in their best clubbing gear and asked if they would (a) Snog, (b) Marry, or (c) Avoid them. Naturally the majority of the results in the Before state are for Avoid, although there's often a healthy dose of Snog votes too. Excess Snog votes are seen as undesirable for girls who are attempting to attract nice men with a sense of humour. It turns out that dressing like a bimbo gets plenty of attention but not a lot of companionship or respect.
Other questions are thrown in, sometimes asking people to guess their age (their makeup usually adds about 10 years because they look like they're trying too hard). Or would someone buy them (a) a kebab, (b) dinner, or (c) jewellry. Other questions basically ask if the girl looks intelligent, thick, or a skank. It's a rough instrument I'll allow, so I try not to pay too much attention to this part of the production, but it does provide anecdotal insight to both participant and viewer.
The Before stories are sometimes quite poignant. Many of the girls featured have no confidence whatsoever in their own natural appearance and have moulded themselves into terrifying parodies of beauty and sexiness. One girl refused to answer her front door unles she was in full makeup. Others are quite convinced of their sexiness (if not their beauty) and are puzzled by all the Avoid votes. They wear terrifyingly skimpy outfits - G-strings and pasties, bits of tape, no underwear, scraps of tulle, a scattering of glitter. Pixellation is often required in the dancing sequences because bits of their anatomy frequently fall out.
In the studio the girls interact with POD (the Personal Overhaul Device), a faceless female computer voice who is firm but kind. She is frequently witty and harsh, but never cruel. Some of the participants give as good as they get, but at worst everyone agrees to disagree. It's terribly civilised. In season 1 the banter was a bit flat but it really picked up in season 2.
So, they're stripped of their slap (British for excess makeup), dressed nicely but still interestingly, made up subtly, are given hair that looks decidedly less plastic (a lot of harsh bright blonde gets replaced with mahogany brown), and look generally lovely. So many of them have gorgeous blue or green eyes that jusy pop once all the heavy makeup and pale hair is taken away. The Snog/Marry/Avoid question is repeated, with surprise surprise significantly more positive results.
Their reactions to their transformations are varied. Most like some things and dislike others, which is fair enough. Many have trouble recognising themselves at all. But the real payoffs for me are the ones who realise that they *are* attractive after all, and that they can still look sexy without letting everything hang out. That natural skin tones do look nicer than inches of foundation and orange fake tan. That more makeup does not equal more beauty. Sometimes eyes are brightened by tiny tears. Not the usual buckets of reality tv crocodile tears, but real expressions of relief. "Wow," they say, "I'm not ugly after all. I don't need all that makeup."
YAY!
In amongst the main action there are small segments collecting vox pop "beauty tips"--to avoid--such as spraying your face with hairspray to fix makeup in place, or shoving egg yolks up your nose 6 hours before partying to avoid heel blisters (I may have made that one up). The odd more sensible tip is tested out by the host - I like the sound of rapidly setting nailpolish by plunging your fingertips into cold water. That sort of thing. It all moves along quite snappily, although I confess I'm growing tired of the blaring theme music.
After the make-under the girls (mostly) are then filmed meeting up with their loved ones for the reveal, and then a followup 3 months later to see if they've stuck with the changes. Again there's a wide variety of reactions after that three months. While some completely reject any changes basically because they refuse to change, others revert to their original look but feel more secure in their own identity. They might still have frightening style, but at least they've tried something different and are now more confident about their own choices.
There's the odd really sad case (I'm thinking of a particular person under media scrutiny who gets put on worst dressed lists and the like) where the participant just can't see how much better they look afterwards. They remain convinced that they are ugly when in reality they are utterly gorgeous. The show has both light and shade.
Not many completely take on the new look, and I imagine it would be quite difficult to maintain the momentum of a look kicked off by a team of style professionals. The most common response is to take on board some percentage of the make-under and to modify their style in a positive way. That might be switching from using SIX sets of false eyelashes at once to only using one pair. Or it could be a change from always getting both legs and tits out to being a bit more selective. People dedicated to wearing only a single colour are coaxed into intruducing something new now and then. The difference after this time is that it's voluntary. Foundation might not disappear, but it's certainly not plastered on.
Sometimes people take part as a favour to families and friends who miss the real them. There's also a healthy dose of impatience at massive amounts of time taken to go out. Results for these girls (and this category is almost exclusively girls) tend to be more varied, but it's sometimes even nicer to see positive long term changes when the girl went in without any intent to change permanently. They've ignored the advice of family and friends that they don't need all the makeup, and go in with no plans to change their minds, but then they're pleasantly surprised; they're true converts.
I'm not sure I've sold this properly, nor do I have the energy to convey how positive the experience looks for the majority of participants. I actually saw season 2 before the current repeats of season 1, and the show definitely matured and settled in the second season, so I started at the right end.
I like to watch people grow in confidence, and for the right reasons. You don't see a lot of that on reality tv.
(PS Husband refuses to be in the house when I watch this. He'll reluctantly accept all the science, dancing, explosions, cycling, murder, and violence I want, but this he cannot bear. Fair enough - it looks utterly appalling on the surface and the music *is* grating. We have a reciprocal agreement for unacceptable viewing subjects so it goes both ways.)