

Once the producer shaves his bushy goatee and puts on a polo shirt, he looks like a model from a Nordstrom's catalog: generically handsome.

Those under attack are often flabbergasted, wondering how a simple makeover show came to be so vitriolic. The producer's boss hints that unless he ups his wardrobe, his job may be at risk. On another episode, an easygoing radio producer who leans toward tie-dye is told sternly by a colleague - a shock jock, of all things - that his son needs a more dignified role model. An attractive young woman with a slightly punk style is told by her controlling husband that she is, essentially, an embarrassment to him because of her hardly offensive outfits. Considering how close they are to the makeover recipient, the abettors are unusually harsh. In each episode, a willing but unhappy victim is mercilessly critiqued by a pair of loved ones and a professional stylist. If "Clean House" is the Hallmark card of the Style Network, then "How Do I Look?" is the hate mail. His wife, eyeing him from a couple of paces away, seemed to realize that she was getting a gift, too. At the end of one episode, a decidedly eccentric husband almost collapsed in tears after seeing a long-slovenly room transformed into the studio space he'd craved for a decade. Parting is sometimes sorrowful - one man refused to give up his lava lamps because they represented his "independence," much to the consternation of his wife - but more often, the participants are grateful to lose the weight. Ad hoc therapy sessions unveil the trauma behind the mess a yard sale gives them a chance to reclaim both floor space and sense of self. On "Clean House," a trauma team is dispatched to help couples who've misplaced their connubial bliss under shockingly large piles of stuff. The Style Network, owned and operated by E! Entertainment Television, seems increasingly committed to exposing domestic idylls' fraying seams - emotional, psychological and even spatial.

Infidelity, of course, but also grooms-to-be who skip out on the wedding bills, and marriages on the verge of collapse because one partner refuses to let go of the Chinese-character lithographs. WHAT lurks behind innocuous suburban doors? More scandal than you'd think, actually.
