We’ve seen him before as one-fifth of the Queer Eye For The Straight Guy fab five.

He’s also turned up in person at a few of our Melbourne Cups, all wing-tipped and interesting, to judge the raceday fashions on the field.

Now, Carson Kressley is back, this time as solo host of How To Look Good Naked (premieres tonight, Channel Ten, 8pm).

This evening’s episode was the most-watched series debut in the 24-year history of the American network (Lifetime Television) that first broadcast it in July this year.

It takes an unhappy and insecure woman who hates her body and brings her out of her shell of self-loathing through various confronting, supposedly cathartic, segments involving full-length mirrors and tears.

Here, happiness and self-esteem are promised without the need for drastic plastic surgery or weight loss … kind of like Extreme Makeover minus the horrific bruising, months of excruciating pain and bags of fluid draining from surgical wounds.

All the gain, with little of the pain previously thought mandatory for such a massive transformation that, in this case, culminates in a nude photo shoot.

Carson tells you in the opening sequence that body loathing is a national obsession and that he wants to begin a perception revolution, all while larger-than-the-stereotype women throw off robes and strut like supermodels in their underwear behind him.

The show begins with an introduction of the episode’s star, let’s call her Victim A, and then jumps to a segment where Carson hits the busy streets of California’s Santa Monica to ask unsuspecting members of the public to cast their eyes towards a particular building in the CBD.

There, illuminated on the building’s exterior, is a huge projected image of Victim A in her underwear. “What do you think of her body?” Carson whines.

Later, in a therapy-like Q&A segment that features a muzak backing track reminiscent of a ProActive infomercial, he shows a horrified Victim A an edited package of replies.

Although, as tonight’s first victim, perceptive Layla, points out: any or all negative comments could have been easily edited out, to protect her fragile ego. Carson dodges that bullet with a swish of blond hair, a flurry of dismissive hand gestures and a topic-changing question. Smooth.

It’s Queer Eye-esque: snappy theme music straight from the Mardi Gras parade to your lounge room; shopping trips shot like they’re music videos; funky furniture on set and much fanfare made of host and guest reacting to pre-recorded footage on a widescreen TV.

It’s funny – I love Carson’s bra whisperer line and its delivery. And if, like me, you get a giggle out of those uniquely American censorship quirks, look carefully for the smudged focus on Layla’s nipples during the bra fitting and butt crack during the photo shoot (a la Survivor). Gee, thanks, Uncle Sam, because I have no idea what a nipple or a bum crack looks like and even if I did, I sure as hell don’t want to see one on my TV. God Bless America.

Mid-way through tonight’s episode, Carson and Layla chat. Suddenly, Carson animatedly tells Layla that what you wear is so important because it tells the world who you are, what you do, how old you are etc etc. So, it’s all about image.

“Looking cute is feeling cute,” says Carson.

And then something about that “revelation” struck me as being very strange.

Here we are, in a reality show that has as its central character someone who is embarrassed and self-conscious about their body. (Who among us isn’t?) Someone who has Tony Ferguson shaked, Celebrity Slimmed and gym junkied away the decades with greater dedication than an athlete burning with Olympic desire.

But unlike those athletes, none of us ever gets to Beijing, because we are tirelessly pursuing an impossible ideal, a figment of some advertising executive’s imagination (bastard!) and an image that only exists in an airbrushed, made up world.

Some of us eventually realise it’s a myth, but that doesn’t stop it being churned out with sad, reckless abandon a million times a day in lingerie billboards, TV ads, fashion magazines, gossip rags and movie blockbusters.

All of these things, and more, perpetuate and glorify an impossible image. That’s right, image.

Exactly what Carson wants to change about these women so the world’s perception of them, and their perception of themselves, improves.

But the very thing that caused these women to have such a negative self-image in the first place was a perceived failure at being able to replicate an image they saw all around them.

Am I the only one who sees this vicious cycle and how stupid a premise this makes for a TV show of this nature?

What about exploring exactly what Layla’s mother was thinking when she put her daughter on a diet at the age of 12? What about addressing the deep-seated issues with food and body image and dieting and intimacy that Layla obviously has?

I’m no psychiatrist, but I know Layla would get much greater, longer-term benefit from a session with a shrink than a hairdresser and a masseuse.

Sure, a facial, some hair highlights, a new frock and a slash of racy lippy would inspire anyone to prance around in front of a camera wearing nothing but a thin ribbon of red chiffon (although I’d require at least 13 gin and tonics, as well as the makeover, before I slipped into my birthday suit under those lights).

But what happens when the cameras turn off, when the episode ends and Carson disappears? Poof! It’s all gone.

It’s all so superficial. Just like that other superficial thing we’ve been discussing: image.

This is hypocritical myth perpetuation dressed up as entertainment, albeit in a WonderBra and tummy control Nancy Ganz knickers. The only thing it really exposes is human nature’s image obsession humiliation.

But I’ll be watching every week. I love Carson. I love to compare thigh/boob/hips/tummy/bat wing/calf/neck/love handles/back flab sizes. And I love to see a shy girl smile when she puts on a pretty top.

Shallow, I know, but I also stubbornly stand by the above criticisms. What’s the point of a slice of superficial cake if it’s just going to sit there, projecting an image of deliciousness? I want to eat it too. So crucify me.

Yes, I’ll be watching. Carson might even have some tips on nipples and bum cracks.

- REBECCA MARSHALL