Mr. Speaker, I am very proud that Home and Garden Television (HGTV), one of the Nation's fastest growing networks, is headquartered in my hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. HGTV is a really outstanding cable channel with a wide variety of…
Mr. Speaker, I am very proud that Home and Garden Television (HGTV), one of the Nation's fastest growing networks, is headquartered in my hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee.
HGTV is a really outstanding cable channel with a wide variety of programs.
Unlike some of the trash that is shown on other networks, the programs on HGTV are positive and helpful and encourage people to improve their lives and their communities.
Joshua Green, Editor of the Washington Monthly, has written a humorous but very complimentary article about HGTV in the July/August issue of his magazine.
I would like to call this article to the attention of my colleagues and other readers of the Record.
[From the Washington Monthly]
Home Sick; The Addictive Allure of Home and Garden Television
(By Joshua Green)
Over the past two years, as the rest of the economy has
gradually tanked, one sector has stubbornly resisted: the
housing market. Despite layoffs, the weak dollar, the
moribund stock market, and all other manner of economic
calamity, house prices are climbing faster than George W.
Bush's negative rating in Iraq. In fact, economists credit
the housing market's continuing strength with keeping the
country out of recession. Much like the ``wealth effect''
created by the late '90s stock boom, rising real-estate
prices have made Americans feel rich enough to keep on
spending amply, regardless of the overall economic climate.
So the booming housing market is surely welcome news to most
Americans--except those, like me, who
would like to actually buy a house and are extraordinarily
piqued about this. If there were a Murphy's Law of Economic
Collapse, it would hold that as jobs disappear and wages
plummet, the price of your dream house will skyrocket.
Most economists attribute this phenomenon to historically
low interest rates, which translate into extremely affordable
mortgages. I have a different theory. I blame HGTV--the Home
and Garden Television channel--one of the fastest-growing
stations on cable and a certifiable cult phenomenon among
many of my peers.
For the uninitiated, HGTV is one of those niche cable
stations we all heard so much about back in the early '90s
that sounded preposterous at the time--who'd watch round-the-
clock gardening, remodeling, and house-hunting tips?--but
seems perfectly reasonable today alongside the dozens of
specialty channels devoted to cooking, pets, sci-fi, soaps,
books, and--on my cable system--one click below the NASA
channel, which on weekends broadcasts continuous footage of
the earth rotating. (Really.) Since its 1994 launch, HGTV has
grown from a tiny startup to a cable colossus that reaches
nearly 80 million households in the United States alone,
broadcasts its programs to viewers as far away as Latvia and
Brunei, and is even available to U.S. service personnel in
175 countries and on board Navy ships. The idea of rugged
naval aviators, fresh from sorties over Iraq or Afghanistan,
choosing to unwind before Home and Garden Television's design
and decorating tips is testament to the strange power this
channel holds over its viewers.
the home-shopping network
At first blush, HGTV is a benign--even an edifying--form of
entertainment that's centered on a can-do ethos for the
current or expectant homeowner. Instead of patrician
decorating tips, HGTV shows like ``Weekend Warriors''
champion a Calvinist work ethic in which determined
homeowners charge headlong into demanding-but-reasonably-
priced projects that typically leave them spent, but never
broke, and with a spectacular new veranda or stunning
hardwood floors to show for their efforts. There are shows
about improving your home's appearance (``Curb Appeal''),
tending to your home's yard (``Landscapers' Challenge''),
decorating your home cheaply (``Design on a Dime'') or even
more cheaply (``Designing Cents''), home-centric extreme-
sports knockoffs (``Winter Gardener,'' ``Extreme Homes'') and
others, like ``Help Around the House,'' that extol the life-
enhancing practicalities of previously mundane tasks like
caulking or grout work.
Many HGTV shows feature a subtle, battle-of-the-sexes
leitmotif that adds to the intrigue, while reinforcing and
pandering to its audience's prejudices in a way that
surely boosts viewership. On the popular ``Designing for
the Sexes,'' most men are of the hapless variety, puzzled
as to why their wife is upset over the moose head they'd
like to mount over the dining room table; most women
display an alarming fondness for pink chenilles or French
country style of doilies. Viewers therefore identify
quickly, privately relieved to discover that their own
situation isn't nearly as outlandish as they'd first
imagined. They receive further encouragement from the
show's denouement, which invariably features a designer or
decorator of Christ-like patience who steps in to mollify
the warring factions by curbing even the tackiest excesses
and delivering a touch of class and taste that both can
live with. This men-are-from-Mars-women-are-from-Venus
format presents itself merely as decorating help. But the
effect upon the addled participants--and viewers, too--is
not unlike that of a good marriage counselor, convincing
couples that any problem can be overcome, I believe it is
no coincidence that HGTV is the one channel my fiancee and
I can agree on. It accomplishes a feat previously thought
to be impossible, bridging the chasm between ``Oprah'' and
``SportsCenter.''
Like any 24-hour-a-day cable station, not all of HGTV's
programming is what one would consider to be of Emmy Award-
winning caliber. I could do without a show called ``Simply
Quilts.'' Certain others likewise seem best suited to the wee
hours of the morning, such as ``Flea Market Finds with the
Kovels'' (which could have been titled ``Shopping for Junk
with Old People'') and ``Subterraneans,'' a recent promo for
which encouraged viewers to tune in and ``meet unique people
who make their home below the earth.''
But one show--the station's flagship--renders these others
mere trivialities. ``House Hunters'' is the source of my own
HGTV addiction and, the latest Nielsen ratings suggest, many
others' as well. It is HGTV's highest-rated show--and, I'm
convinced, the clue to the network's appeal.
The show's premise is a simple one. In each episode, a
friendly realtor helpfully accompanies a pair of prospective
homebuyers as they shop for a house or condominium. Cameras
follow them from room to room, allowing the viewer to examine
the various properties in what amounts to a vicarious trial
run for the potential homebuyer. The first time I tuned in, a
young newlywed couple wanted to move out of their cramped
apartment and buy their first home but clearly had no idea
what they were doing. These circumstances were reassuringly
similar to my own. I watched with growing appreciation as the
realtor listened patiently to their needs and then drove them
to one beautiful house after another. If a house was too
small, the realtor would smile and show them a larger one. If
a house lacked a pool, the realtor would find them one that
also had a jacuzzi. If a house was on a noisy street, the
realtor would show them one in an area so remote it probably
had not yet been mapped. And every visit was a leisurely,
pressure-free stroll that seemed not only easy, but fun.
The young couple soon found a perfect home, conferred
briefly with the realtor, and decided to place a bid on it.
``House Hunters'' cut to commercial. Despite having known
them for just 22 minutes or so, I was transfixed, and found
myself rooting vigorously for their bid to be accepted. When
the show returned, our prayers--theirs and mine--were
answered. As the couple sat emotionlessly in their worn
rental, the phone rang. It was their realtor, with good news!
I was privately impressed that HGTV had a camera crew on hand
to document this happy occasion. The show ended by flashing
forward several months to show the couple in joyously
possession of their new home. I stole a glance at my
fiancee--who looked exactly as she had at the end of
Titanic--and immediately began looking forward to my own
home-buying experience.
No Chase Like Home
It did not dawn on me until after I'd embarked on my own
search for a house how wildly fictional this portrayal had
been. But I quickly discovered that it was fundamentally
dishonest on several levels and bore no resemblance at all to
my own night-marish experience.
To begin with, ``House Hunters'' promotes the fantasy that
charming, spacious, reasonably priced homes are plentiful
and always available in even the most desirable
neighborhoods. Perhaps this is true in some distant corner
of North Dakota where sprawl and gentrification have not
yet driven up prices. but it is most certainly not the
case in Washington, D.C., where I live, or in any
surrounding suburb that I've been able to locate.
This shortage gives rise to another phenomenon that ``House
Hunters'' does not acknowledge--the ``open house.'' These are
the overly brief weekend showings in which sellers open their
homes to potential buyers--but which in today's hot real
estate market quickly come to resemble cattle calls of
anxious couples who strenuously avoid making eye contact with
you as they rush around sizing up the house and potential
competitors for it. Nor does ``House Hunters'' accurately
depict the mood and temperament of these people, who tend to
look wild-eyed and tormented and would probably arouse
concern among security personnel if transported to any other
setting. In the open houses I've experienced, the naifs who
appear on ``House Hunters'' would be tramped and devoured
like the herd weaklings in a pack of wildebeest on the
Discovery Channel.
After awhile, once we had acclimated to these laws of the
jungle, my fiancee and I found a cozy brick rowhouse that
seemed perfect. As we elbowed past the other prospective
buyers and walked from room to room, I felt that small shiver
of excitement I had seemed to detect when couples on ``House
Hunters'' had finally come upon the home they would buy. That
evening we filled out a mountain of paper-work at our
realtor's and submitted our bid. The next day I blew off work
and sat expectantly by the phone about to be educated in yet
another way in which ``House Hunters'' differs from reality.
By this point I had become an avid fan of the show, but it
had still never occurred to me that each episode's happy
ending might not mirror reality. When my phone rang, I leapt
for it. It was my realtor, who informed me that we had not
gotten the house--that in fact 22 others had bid on it and
driven the sale price more than $100,000 above what
originally had been asked.
Soon after, I became well acquainted with the concept of
the escalation clause, the inspections waiver, the failed
bid, and generally competing like gladiators for any property
deemed livable and available. I also realized that ``House
Hunters'' is totally staged--the couple always gets the house
they want, and the show's producers are probably wise to
steer clear of markets like Washington, D.C., which would
terrify viewers anyway and kill their ratings. I angrily
swore off HGTV and the cheap fantasy it peddled, and
sheepishly sought out my copy of Home Buying for Dummies.
Rooting for the Home-buying team
Yet, strangely, life without HGTV did not improve--at least
not for the six days that I held out against watching it.
Houses remained overpriced, realtors unscrupulous, buyers
frenzied, and I was no closer to escaping my one-bedroom. I
found myself longing for familiar comforts. In the end, the
siren call of reasonably priced homes and pressure-free
bidding that always has a fairy-tale ending proved too
powerful to resist. I cracked a beer and submitted to the
evening's ``House Hunters.''
Only then did I truly understand the lure of HGTV--of what
it is that grips me, and my addict-friends, and all those
naval aviators overseas who are stressing about the
availability of three-bedroom colonials in neighborhoods with
decent schools. It's not the reality television that HGTV
pretends to be, but an escape from our own real-estate
reality into a soothing world where things are different and
better; a place to retreat to after those greedy sellers pass
on your bid, where one will always find sustenance and
encouragement; it's what excites people to keep marching out
and buying new homes.
My story has a happy ending, though not the type you're
likely to see on HGTV. Several weeks after our initial bid
fell through (it seemed like years) our excellent realtor
Vince--who, incidentally, could eat the realtors on ``House
Hunters'' for breakfast--found us the perfect home and
shrewdly snuck us in before the open house, preempting a
bidding war by submitting a take-it-or-leave-it offer that
cut out the competition. (I expect Vince will be surprised to
learn he's been nominated for a Congressional Medal of
Honor.)
Impending homeownership has brought with it complicated new
challenges, so I've turned to my wellspring of wisdom for
guidance. I now possess a master gardener's understanding of
landscaping, and I'm confident that I can parry most of the
feminine-looking accoutrements with which my fiancee seems
intent upon decorating our new home. In fact, there's only
one area where I've come up empty. I've searched in vain for
a show called ``Mortgage Hunters,'' but none seems to exist--
perhaps there are aspects of home buying that even HGTV can't
spin into fantasy.