Makeover shows
On those weekend days when I need to veg, nothing gives my remote control more of a rest than finding a marathon of fashion makeover shows: “What Not To Wear,” “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy,” “How Do I Look?” or “The Look for Less.” Watching lost souls discover some sense of style — and self — never gets old for me. I sit on my couch and pretend like I know my silhouettes and my cuts. Each subject has a personal drama. The soccer mom who wears only sweats suddenly realizes there’s a sexy woman hidden inside. A teenage girl whose boyfriend was deployed to Iraq and needs a last-minute prom gown ... can she pull together a J. Lo-esque outfit in one day? Of course, there are the entertaining moments at the subject’s expense: The Fab Five will poke fun at the straight guy’s bathroom, kitchen, and closet. In “How Do I Look,” friends will throw out one’s favorite clothes. And I often wonder whether or not the subject can really stop buying culottes and oversized plaid flannel shirts. Then again, now I have a reason to look forward to the inevitable reunion shows. —Jesamyn Go

"Lace"
LACE
Warner Bros.
"Lace" is, hands down,the worst made-for-television movie of all time. And yet, every time it’s on, I cannot leave the house until it’s over. Phoebe Cates is Lili, an international movie star who apparently got to the top doing softcore porn. Now she's on a mission to track down her mother — who is either a cancer-curing doctor, magazine editor, or a French aristocrat. Lili travels several continents as she searches, attempting to seduce the Frenchman who may or not be her brother and the Arab prince who may or may not be her father, all in the hope that her mother will stop her. I suppose in the days before DNA testing, flirting with incest seemed like an OK way to figure out one’s paternity. It’s not until the very end of the movie that Lili utters the film’s most (and only) famous line, but for that moment, I will sit through all five dreadful hours. I just don’t think there is a more exquisite trashy moment than when she gathers all three women together and asks, “All right. Which one of you bitches is my mother?” —H.M.S.

‘Match Game’
I’ve never been a big fan of ‘70s retro-chic, but there’s something about the delirious kitsch of the original that’s hard to resist. Watching “The Match Game,” now in endless syndication on GSN, is like taking a time capsule back to the land of bright orange carpet and wide polka-dotted ties. The rules of the game hardly matter — the contestants are merely a foil for host Gene Rayburn and a roster of B-list celebrities to throw sexual innuendoes back and forth. The clothes are a kaleidoscope of improbable colors: When JoAnne Worley shows up as a guest, she fits right in. It’s not just the women, either. A typical Rayburn outfit consists of a checked suit worn with a brightly colored striped shirt and a clashing tie in a third, completely different pattern. And then there’s Charles Nelson Reilly, whose flamboyant style makes Uncle Arthur look discreet. Reilly’s putdowns of fellow celeb regular Brett Somers (and if you just said, “Who?”, get used to it — most of the guests are the ‘70s equivalent of Kathy Griffin) are another highlight. Put it altogether and you have a hallucinogenic marvel of a show. —Lori Smith

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