Why Americans long to live in an HGTV home

Home & Garden Television is the mac and cheese of cable - video comfort food. And, like that perennial favorite, it sells very well. Last year, HGTV was the third-most-watched cable network after ESPN and Fox News.

In a recent feature on the company, Bloomberg's Gerry Smith attributed the network's success to the "escapist appeal of looking at other people's beautiful homes" in a year rife with conflict. "The relentlessly pleasant programming is a comfort, especially in hard times," he wrote.

But there's more to HGTV's appeal than mere blandness. "It's not easy to create content that people are passionate about and somewhat addicted to that is somewhat repetitive," Ken Lowe, chief executive of parent company Scripps Networks Interactive Inc., told Smith. HGTV's shows succeed because they tap deep longings.

For starters, they're intriguing. Rather than rely on conflict to engage viewers, they offer a small mystery: Which place will the house hunters choose? How will the renovation turn out? They keep you hanging on until the big reveal. The formula draws the viewer into the story, inviting speculations and judgments.

Then there's recognition. Watching HGTV, you see a broader swath of North Americans (including Canadians) than you usually encounter on mainstream TV: youth ministers and medical sales reps, black marketing managers and South Asians who don't work in tech, lesbian farmers and home-schooling moms, people who live in Fargo, North Dakota, or Pensacola, Florida, or Waco, Texas, home of the hit show "Fixer Upper." They speak with regional accents and come in all body types. And they're all presented respectfully, as fine people the viewer can identify with. It's the opposite of schadenfreude-driven train-wreck TV.

It's uncynical. What makes HGTV feel so wholesome isn't merely its lack of profanity but its lack of snark. Everyone is sincere and polite, sometimes obstinate but never mean. Writing about "Fixer Upper" hosts Chip and Joanna Gaines for Texas Monthly, New York journalist Taffy Brodesser-Akner marveled at their authentic humility and humor. "They're like that in person, funny and unguarded and with no fast answers," she wrote. No wonder they easily weathered a brief controversy BuzzFeed tried to gin up over their pastor's views on gays. They just don't seem like haters.

On HGTV, optimism and love abound. Those qualities reflect the fundamental appeal of the network's formula: It reverses entropy and celebrates home.

Although budgets feature prominently, the network's house-flipping shows aren't really about money. Rather, they offer the thrill of watching something deteriorated revive. Replacing corroded pipes and shoring up sagging foundations is as important to the drama as ripping out hideous wallpaper or installing new countertops. The makeovers aren't merely cosmetic. Something deeper than fashion is at stake. On HGTV, decay isn't a permanent condition, and anything can be repaired. Things get better.