Goth teems drenched in black become teeny-bopper darlings in pink dresses and platform sneakers. Male couch potatoes in flannel shirts become debonair gentlemen in tuxedos. Scantily clad women popping out of halter tops and leather mini-skirts become responsible women in business suits and subtle make-up. The make-over is a popular talk show tool used by everyone from Oprah to Jenny Jones. These transformations embody Lancaster's argument in "Guto's Performance" by demonstrating how we are all participating in one big drag show, presenting our gender through our dress, our play. We construct our genders, moment by moment, through our performance, fluidly moving from one to the next. On "Oprah," an over-worked single mom in sweat pants who devotes all her time to working outside the home and raising her children (in a combination of constructed masculine and feminine gender roles) sits slumped in her chair. Soon, lipstick and sequins transform her into a confident, sensual woman, strutting across the stage ready to take the arm of the handsome, well-dressed man chosen to take her out for an evening on the town (she now takes on a different, more feminine, gender role).

But there is underlying tension in Lancaster's argument and make-overs on talk shows. Instead of made-over guests choosing their type of dress and performance, they are usually shuffled into these roles by a team of television producers, make-up artists, stylists, family and friends, and audience members. Often, talk show make-overs reinforce our rigidly constructed ideas of what is "masculine" and "feminine" by highlighting the taboo of stepping out of these roles and re-constructing a person's performance to fit the correct social mold.

A recent episode of "The Maury Povitch Show" featured make-overs of women who worked in "manly" professions. There was a tow-truck driver, a car mechanic, a bike messenger, an electrical repairperson, a firefighter, a "pooper-scooper," a zoo-keeper, and a lumberjack. Each of the guests made there entrance dressed in their working clothes, some with appropriate props, strutting to the tune of "She Works Hard for the Money." After each guest had the opportunity to talk about her job, she was whisked away by stylists with makes-up brushes and blow-dryers only to be returned in fancy ball gowns to work the runway for the approving audience, pausing for a brief moment to pose beside their "before" photo.

These women were in jobs traditionally occupied by men. Most of the women spoke fondly about their job, expressing their feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. (The woman who "scooped poop" is an exception, but it is interesting to note that she was previously homeless and was offered a job as a secretary, which she declined in favor of cleaning up after dogs.) Most of the women were the only female among their male colleagues. Maury probed the women for signs of dissatisfaction. They complained to him about the annoyance of having to prove oneself in a job because of one's sex. The car mechanic shared a story of a man not believing that she was really a mechanic.

Maury ignored these comments about the sexism they faced on the job and instead encouraged them to talk more about how their femininity disappeared in their job. He asked them how it felt to be dirty and smelly and brought the car mechanic's boyfriend on to discuss his problem with his partner's dirty hands. He also asked them, "Don't you want to feel sexy?" Don't you want to feel like a woman?" or "Don't you want to feel natural?" Obviously he feels that the way these women dress, and in conjunction, the occupations they occupy, are not sexy, are not womanly, and are not natural, but tabooed, and he is prepared to change them accordingly. The women are put into ball gowns and mascara, a type of drag that is more in line with the dominant gender ideology.

When the women came out in their new drag, some of them looked very pleased, but some of them were visibly uncomfortable. Maury raved, "You were really women under there!" The audience applauded, the male partners and bosses who brought the women on the show beamed, the women paraded, and the show was over. The guests went home and eventually washed the hairspray out of their hair and put on their taboo "masculine" drag for another day of work."

Whenever I see a talk show make-over, I am reminded of a "Jenny Jones" episode in which Goth and Punk teenage women were made-over in the latest teen fashion trends. Their leather jackets, ripped jeans, black eyeliner, and, Doc Marten boots were replaced with little pastel sweater sets, pink tights, blush, and chunky high heels or platform shoes. At the end of the show, the young women sat defiantly, still wearing the new clothes, but every one of the had kicked off their "fashionable" shoes and slipped back into their boots or worn sneakers. It reminded me that no matter what style of drag our society tries to put us in and the gender role that goes along with it, we can subvert it somehow. Sometimes starting from the bottom, up.