It’s been a tough week in the land of television. Tina Fey is on strike, Steve Carell won’t cross the picket line, and “The Daily Show” has gone dark. The specter of eternal reruns looms uncomfortably close. The calamity is multiplied by the fact that we’re in the middle of sweeps month, meaning we should be drowning in all-new episodes of our favorite shows with special guest stars and dramatically dying regulars. Try not to think about it. Indeed, it’s in harrowing times like these that we Americans should gather together, bow our heads, and thank God for excellent reality TV.

“Project Runway,” the current cream of the not-as-bad-as-you-think crop, begins its fourth season tomorrow night on Bravo, and not a moment too soon. The New York-based show, which pits amateur fashion designers against one another in a season-long competition, is just what reality television should be: warmhearted and well-edited. Contestant Kit “Pistol” Scarbo sums up the show’s guiding ethos near the beginning of tomorrow’s episode: “Life is too short to have on a bad outfit.” But even if you’re the kind of person who suspects life is too short to worry about outfits at all, “Project Runway” is still a delight.

As usual, the season begins with 15 aspiring fashion designers. Each episode opens with an assignment: make a cocktail dress, use recycled materials, work in a team, etc. The contestants procure fabric (usually in the garment district), sketch out an ensemble, and build the dress in a communal workshop. The “challenge” ends with a runway show observed by a panel of judges led by the show’s host, the Teutonically adorable model Heidi Klum. After a lively dissection of the various looks — “This is so ‘dressed in the dark,'” or “Why is the construction so poor?” or “Her model looked like she was pooing fabric” — the judges rule, and Ms. Klum announces to the poor loser: “You’re out.” Unlike Tyra Banks’s lugubrious seriousness in eliminating contestants on “America’s Next Top Model,” Ms. Klum is efficient and cheerful. It’s deliciously chilling.

Tim Gunn, who acts as the contestants’ Virgil in Ms. Klum’s Hell, is an enormous element of the show’s appeal. Mr. Gunn exudes a kind of sincere compassion rarely seen on reality TV or, more to the point, in the kind of person who ends up on television of any variety. His catchphrases — “Make it work” and “Carry on” — are gently encouraging. His sweet and knowledgeable honesty is best used in counterpoint to the “Project Runway” judges’ cattiness, however. His own show, “Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style,” proves that intelligence and kindness alone don’t make good television.

In previous seasons of “Project Runway,” the first challenge has been outlandishly goofy. Contestants have had to make dresses out of groceries or materials torn from their own living quarters. This season, Ms. Klum and Mr. Gunn announced with great fanfare that the first challenge would be something different: The wannabes would use top-quality fabric to make an “outfit that expresses who you are as a designer.” Unfortunately, the catch never came.

As the show has grown more popular, the caliber of applicants has improved, and the current crop is the most accomplished of any season. Ramallah native Rami Kashou has dressed Jessica Alba and other celebrities for red-carpet events; costume designer Chris March has worked with clients including Cirque du Soleil and Madonna, and Parsons graduate Jillian Lewis has served as an illustrator for Ralph Lauren. None of them are well known — they wouldn’t be here otherwise — but they know what they’re doing.

Bravo has become known for reality shows that require real professional skills, and “Project Runway” is the flagship of the category. The restaurant industry stays home for “Top Chef” and decorating buffs are hooked on “Top Design.” These programs are not based on plying fame-hungry women with booze and throwing a dully attractive single man in their midst, or locking a dozen 20-somethings in a house. The challenges do not involve balancing on a log or eating rat brains. It might be uncharitable to say so, but if most reality television can be said to embody Los Angeles, Bravo’s shows are pure New York.

That’s a good thing. There is a danger, however, that relentless competence will keep out the crazies that make reality television — even “Project Runway” — a pleasure. This season’s contestants seem worrisomely functional, though tantalizing clips of future episodes suggest otherwise.

The most auspicious contestant in terms of entertainment value is Elisa Jimenez, who got into the business like so many tradeswomen before her: by building enormous marionettes for some vague artistic purpose and then learning to sew in order to dress the dolls. It’s not giving away too much to say that her inaugural dress is a mess, but she’s such a loon you can’t he lp but root for her to get more screen time. Where most of us would say, “The dress was way too long,” Elisa says, “The sculptural quality of the dress literally tangled about her.” She forgoes work time for a catnap, measures fabric with only her own hands, and makes design decisions based on her “intuitions.” As another promisingly kooky entrant says, “She’s, like, spiritual, and in the Himalayan Mountains.”

So here’s to another season of contestants both competent and “intuitive,” gowns both gorgeous and god-awful. For this fantastically pleasurable show to succeed, both types must be present. If the fourth season of “Project Runway” errs too much on the side of prim professionalism, Ms. Fey will have to hurry back even faster.

Ms. Graham is an editor at Domino magazine.