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The first season of Netflix’s reboot Queer Eye (originally Bravo’s Queer Eye for the Straight Guy) was charming – and popular enough that season two followed only four months after the premiere of the first. This time around the Fab Five stepped away from their ‘straight guy’ legacy and “did their first ever woman,” prompting several obvious jokes on their car ride to Gay, Georgia – no, really. Season one made various efforts to pull at viewers’ heartstrings, including with the memorable conversation between Karamo, who is Black, and their police officer client (Cory) regarding the institutionalised violence and racism within American law enforcement. Though something about the scene did not, to me, feel entirely organic, the conversation was a valued edition to the episode. Karamo approached the discussion with delicacy and composure and Cory followed suit by openly condemning the actions of his fellow officers; the scene was emotional without the defensiveness of typical ‘Blue Lives Matter’ discussions. Queer Eye has made an name for itself for its Emmy-worthy handling of difficult discourse, though the Fab Five’s second outing was more successful and more sincere.

Despite its raison d’etre being extensive makeovers, Queer Eye is far from superficial. This series’ highlight was when Skyler, a transgender man recently post-surgery, finally succeeded in having the gender marker corrected on his driver’s licence. The show has delivered several touching transformations but few have been as simple and powerful as this, which reaches well beyond any cosmetic change. To have a show centred around the friendship and collaboration of five gay men does more than just improve televisual LGBT representation: Queer Eye is made great through its unscripted interactions and genuine on-screen friendships.

We supposedly live in the Golden Age of Television and yet I can’t remember the last time I saw an advert for a decent personal makeover show. They were a kingpin of Noughties television. When I was younger I adored shows like Gok’s Fashion Fix, How to Look Good Naked and 10 Years Younger. Nowadays, it seems like viewing choice is non-existent. Netflix chose to revitalise the original, cliched show and suit it (and boot it) perfectly for contemporary audiences. Modern viewers no longer see gay men merely as sources of great fashion advice or as feminized, theatrical drama queens. This is how and why Queer Eye’s reboot has outgrown its hackneyed roots. Tan, Karamo, Antoni, Jonathan and Bobby all spend time creating connections with those they help. Where the original focused on a dichotomised dynamic of what these ‘stylish gay men’ could offer hopeless heterosexuals, Queer Eye round two focuses on the individuals. Sexuality is not thrown around like a fun accessory and the constraints of toxic masculinity and the real-life prejudices men experience are exposed. Many of the men, who the show proclaims as its ‘heroes’, are seen at their most emotionally vulnerable, and the Fab Five shows the viewer that this is okay and offers them unflinching support.

Finally, Queer Eye season two offers us a greater glimpse into the lives of the cast itself and offers something the initial programme neglected: intersectionality. The original Fab Five had only one member with non-white ancestry, but this season the show tackled far more complex issues and explored how the experiences of all gay men are not identical. We see how being black and gay, for example, means that Karamo’s experiences have been different to his friends’, a factor highlighted in a conversation he has in episode one with the son of Tammye (the woman who is being made over), who struggled coming to terms with his homosexuality while also being the victim of racially-charged prejudice as a Black man in the American Deep South Similarly, Tan – who has English and Pakistani parents – converses with young ‘hero’ Ari and the pressures of a middle-Eastern upbringing, an issue which was also alluded to in the first season when we met Neal.

Netflix’s triumph retains the original’s humour and flamboyance but ditched the “stereotypes on parade” of the noughties original. The second season capped off every episode with a hip tip, whether it be fashion advice or culinary ideas. Queer Eye encourages healthy eating, self-love and great style all in one juicy, fun installment. The all-new Queer Eye isn’t just feel-good TV, but TV that does good. It doesn’t skirt around important issues and its success is clearly reflected in its four Emmy nominations and swift renewal for its upcoming third season.