Tag: Mad Men Week

Emmy Week 2011: Mad Men Week Roundup

Cast of Mad Men


YouTube Break: How to Drink Like a Mad Man

Hey, Brian McGreevy: Vampire Pam Beats Don Draper Any Day by Tami Winfrey Harris

McGreevy also conveniently forgets Anne Rice’s vampires. Lestat was in love with Louis, could wear the hell out of some breeches and was also dangerous as fuck. If, as McGreevy states, vampires are stand ins for the ideal man, it’s good to remember that some real men don’t wear tailored suits or chase skirt.
It’s a ridiculous notion, anyway—this “ideal man” business. It’s a good thing that we as a society, save McGreevy, Scott Adams and possibly some members of the men’s rights movement, are letting go of it. Women have undoubtedly been oppressed by the culture of manly manness, but the thing is, so have men—a lot of good men who don’t fit McGreevy’s paradigm. And I would venture to say that most men don’t. And thank goodness for that.

YouTube Break: The Mad Men School of Seduction

Things They Haven’t Seen: Women and Class in Mad Men by Lee Skallerup Bessette

Towards the end of the first season, Peggy Olson goes out on a date set up by her mother. The guy, Carl, drives a potato chip delivery truck, and makes it clear that he doesn’t think too highly of Peggy’s chosen profession. “You don’t look like those girls,” he tells her. Peggy storms off, snapping at Carl, “They are better than us. They want things they haven’t seen.”
I don’t agree, at least not when it comes to the main women of Mad Men. Joan and Betty are victims of both their class and their gender, and the only thing they would seem to aspire to is what they know and what they see: the comforts of an middle-to-upper class existence.
With the backlash writer Aaron Sorkin rightly received for the sexist portrayal of women as fuck trophies and sex objects in the film The Social Network, it’s an interesting question as to whether the time period and events portrayed are sexist or if the writers’ depictions are sexist. A writer does choose what to show (and not show). This has been one of the valid criticisms of Mad Men, that there are so few people of color on the show. But with regards to sexism, the writers (7 of the 9 writers are women) continually convey the feelings, attitudes and perspectives of how the female characters contend with their sexist surroundings, which invalidates the notion that the writers are sexist. If they were, they would never depict complex, fully developed characters; they would never let us see the thoughts, hopes and fears of the women on the show. 

YouTube Break: Peggy Olson Knows What She Wants

True Camaraderie: Don, Peggy, and Something to Prove by Katie Becker

It seems obvious to me that Don’s interest in Peggy is directly related to his own struggles with entitlement. Don wasn’t born with money or a name. He didn’t inherit his position in the company or marry into an account. He used his creative “genius” to con his way into a job and rise to the top of his field. This both limits him and gives him strength. He has less to lose, and that allows him to take greater risks. Don sees the way Peggy takes risks and admires her dedication to the work they do. In the episode where Marilyn Monroe dies, Don asks Peggy how she is doing and is surprised (if only for a quick side-glance of a moment) when Peggy responds, “It’s a good thing we didn’t go with Marilyn/Jackie ad. We would have had to pull everything indefinitely.” While others in the office mourn the loss of a role model, Peggy’s eyes are clearly focused on her career. She does not falter for a moment because she can’t afford it. Don gets that because he too knows that he can’t quit running. They share a common fear and subsequently, a common strength of self.

Mad Motherhood by Olivia London-Webb

Is that why we feel bad for Betty Draper? Because we know someone like her? Our own mothers? A sister? A friend? Or does she hit a little too close to home for some of us? It is the judgment of her that I have to wrestle with. Poor Pampered Betty Draper. A housewife with a maid and nothing to fill her days but shopping. High class problems indeed. Instead of dumping our kids in front of the black and white TV with three channels, we now have the Wii in monster 65-inch color, surround-sound, high definition. Is spending hours on Etsy so much different than at the department store? Hiding from our children. Hiding from who we are. Betty being so afraid of her own sexuality that her daughter ends up in therapy for “playing with herself.” I am sure all of us have had to confront some issue with our children that we have never anticipated. “Did you really just wipe boogers on the wall?” “Is that a fish stick under your pillow?” “No, I don’t know why trees don’t talk back.”

YouTube Break: Betty Draper’s Guide to Parenting

Mad Men and Sexual Harassment from The Sociological Cinema (submitted by Lester Andrist)

Cultural Anthropologist, William M. O’Barr (2010), notes of the popular television show, Mad Men, “[It] is a world of heterosexual, white, male privilege.” O’Barr further observes that “Gender displays recur. The social structure of the office—men in professional positions, women as their assistants—rings true of pre-Feminist Movement America in the 1960s. Every woman is either a Jackie or a Marilyn and every man wants them both—or at least most of the men. The admen direct the lives of women, not just those in the agency, but those in the entire society. It is a world in which men are dominant and women are subordinate and sexualized.” O’Barr draws on a number of clips to make his argument, but one in particular (Season 1, Episode 12, “Nixon Vs Kennedy”) struck me as a useful supplement to a discussion on sexual harassment. 

“Limit Your Exposure”: Homosexuality in the Mad Men Universe by Carrie Nelson

Despite the complete lack of visibility of gay people in the early 1960s, there is a surprisingly high amount of explicitly queer characters on Mad Men. Only one—Salvatore Romano, Sterling Cooper’s Art Director—is substantially developed, but a half dozen gay characters have passed through the Mad Men universe over the course of four seasons. All of the characters are unique, with distinct personalities and significantly different approaches to navigating same-sex desire in a hostile climate. And while Mad Men steers clear of making profound statements about the nature of gay identity in the 1960s, the characterizations it does present do have a few interesting things to say about gender identity and the ability to out oneself.

YouTube Break: Every Cigarette Smoked in Mad Men

Mad Women: The Secretaries in Mad Men by Ivy Ashe

In the characters of Allison and Megan, we see flashes of both Peggy and Jane—Secretary 2.0. Allison was shut out of the Jane path by Don—although Allison’s affection for Don was genuine and idealistic until after the Christmas party fiasco; she was never as calculatingly feminine as Jane. Following the humiliation of being treated essentially as an office prostitute by Don, Allison does her best to cope, remaining in touch with her own complicated feelings and emotions only to have them shot down by Peggy, who’s channeling her inner Draper. Realizing the damage she’s doing to herself staying in Don’s SCDP, Allison seizes control of her life and makes the move to the “women’s magazine.”

YouTube Break: Mad Men in 60 Seconds

Mad Men and the Role of Nostalgia by Amber Leab

A major theme in Mad Men is gender, and it is one of the few shows on television that overtly critiques institutionalized sexism—and we can even, justly, call the show feminist. Here’s what I fear may also be happening: in a culture that claims to be post-feminist, post-ironic, and even post-racial, in which social justice movements lack unity, and even many educated people believe women have achieved “enough” equality (enough, at least, to no longer fight for our basic rights like access to health care and equal pay), aren’t people also maybe a little bit, even unconsciously, nostalgic for a time of clearer definitions? While I would never argue that anyone would want to return to gender and/or racial dynamics of the early 1960s, shouldn’t we attribute at least some of the show’s success to the conservative desire to ‘return to a simpler time?’ Is it not possible that we have an unconscious (or even subconscious) desire to return to a place where we can clearly point to a behavior and call it like it is: Sexist. Racist. Homophobic. Wrong.

Mad Men and the Role of Nostalgia

The cast of Mad Men — aren’t they lovely?
There are two significant moments in Mad Men when nostalgia is overtly discussed. The first comes in season one, episode thirteen (“The Wheel”). Don/Dick has just learned that his brother committed suicide, and he brings his feelings about his own past—particularly his strong desire to construct a past that erases the Whitmans—to sell a product. In a pitch to Kodak, for a campaign to sell a storage device that holds slides and allows you to click through them, he says, 

Technology is a glittering lure, but there’s the rare occasion when the public can be engaged on a level beyond flash, if they have a sentimental bond with the product. My first job, I was in house at a fur company with this old pro copywriter–a Greek, named Teddy. Teddy told me the most important idea in advertising is “new.” It creates an itch. You simply put your product in there   as a kind of calamine lotion. But he also talked about a deeper bond with the product: nostalgia.  It’s delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound.” It’s a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards… it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels – around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved. 

It’s a lovely pitch (which sends Harry, who was recently kicked out of his home for cheating, out of the room in tears) and an effective one: Don seals the deal. (Watch the clip here.)
In season four, episode six (“Waldorf Stories”), Don–drunk on booze and ego after his CLIO award win–recycles his “nostalgia pitch” for Life Cereal and the proposed “Eat Life by the bowlful” campaign. 

But I keep thinking about, you know, nostalgia. How you remember something in the past and it feels good, but it’s a little bit painful. Like when you were a kid. 

One can surmise, if at all familiar with Don’s state of mind and lifestyle at this point, that this pitch doesn’t go as well. The meeting is a mess, and Don inadvertently pitches someone else’s idea as his own. (I couldn’t find this clip available online.)
These are two brilliant, meta moments in a show that is, in some ways, all about nostalgia. If we think of the show itself as a product, it works on both levels described in Don’s eloquent pitch. For viewers who didn’t live through the sixties, the show provides a uniquely detailed window on an era we never experienced and may only vaguely know, and the culture has produced plenty of “calamine lotion” for this group. For those who lived through the sixties, the show itself can be the Kodak carousel–taking viewers to that place they may ache to go again: their own past. 
Surfaces are everything in Mad Men. In response to Mad Men’s critical and popular success, Brooks Brothers and Banana Republic have launched “Mad Men” clothing collections, so you can dress like Don or Betty. If you’re a woman with curves, you can buy the “Mad Men-inspired” bra to “banish those unsightly bulges” (not that the model pictured has bulges anywhere). You can style your hair like the characters of Mad Men and go retro. You can serve Mad Men-inspired cocktails or have an entire Mad Men-themed party (if you’re a guest, you can buy the host a Mad Men-inspired gift). If it’s the interiors that excite you, Woman’s Day magazine–which finds “the show’s visuals even more spectacular than its storylines”–will help you out with its “Mad Men-Inspired Home Decor,” and if you have money to burn, you can buy CB2’s Draper Sofa. If you’re the bookish type, here’s a Mad Men-Inspired Summer Reading List. If you really can’t get enough of the era, tune in this fall to The Playboy Club or Pan-Am.
The above barely scratches the surface of the cultural and commercial impact of Mad Men. You could virtually live your life as a Mad Men character. But why?
A major theme in Mad Men is gender, and it is one of the few shows on television that overtly critiques institutionalized sexism—and we can even, justly, call the show feminist. Here’s what I fear may also be happening: in a culture that claims to be post-feminist, post-ironic, and even post-racial, in which social justice movements lack unity, and even many educated people believe women have achieved “enough” equality (enough, at least, to no longer fight for our basic rights like access to health care and equal pay), aren’t people also maybe a little bit, even unconsciously, nostalgic for a time of clearer definitions? While I would never argue that anyone would want to return to gender and/or racial dynamics of the early 1960s, shouldn’t we attribute at least some of the show’s success to the conservative desire to ‘return to a simpler time?’ Is it not possible that we have an unconscious (or even subconscious) desire to return to a place where we can clearly point to a behavior and call it like it is: Sexist. Racist. Homophobic. Wrong.
In a culture where third-wave conflicts with second wave, where there is a conservative-led war on women’s access to health care and bodily autonomy that the liberal party largely ignores, in which the celebrity status of a couple of female politicians (who happen to hold extremely regressive positions on issues affecting women) passes as achievement of gender equality, in which women have suffered greatly in a recession dubbed the “Mancession” by media, wouldn’t it be nice if things were a bit clearer? Doesn’t our society wish we could call it in real life like we call it on that show? And don’t we also enjoy that feeling of superiority–that we’re oh-so enlightened compared to the barbarous behavior of those characters–when in reality things haven’t changed as much as we’d like to think? 
In a show that quietly argues that sexism and misogyny severely harm women and men, what do we make of all the damn cultural imitation? Where and how do we draw the line between admiring and desiring the surfaces (the clothes, the decor, the general air of coolness), and wanting what’s underneath?

Mad Women: The Secretaries in Mad Men

This cross-post originally appeared at Fem Threads.
Allison didn’t last long, but managed to
throw something at Don on the way out.
Ed. Note: This post is part of FemThread’s “Mad Women” series. We also write about Joan, Peggy and Betty. Enjoy! –TC
It was a code of Don’s from the very first episode of Season One: Don’t get involved with your secretary. Your daughter’s schoolteacher, clients’ wives, clients themselves (hello, Rachel Mencken!)—these are all fine flings to have, but not the woman posted outside your office. Peggy Olson learned this right away. Jane Siegel was on every other Sterling Cooper male’s radar, yet Don baldly told Ken Cosgrove that he’d never so much as look at a new secretary until they’d managed to last a month on the job.
And then we got to Season Four.
It almost felt as though Matthew Weiner has been building to this story arc since S1E1. We had Peggy, the off-limits secretary who rose to copywriter and Draper protégé, fighting for respect at every turn. At the complete opposite end of the spectrum we had Jane, the seemingly off-limits secretary who flirted her way into the hearts of the boys, out of the good graces of Joan, and finally into the heart (well, sort of) and home of Roger Sterling.
In the characters of Allison and Megan, we see flashes of both Peggy and Jane—Secretary 2.0. Allison was shut out of the Jane path by Don—although Allison’s affection for Don was genuine and idealistic until after the Christmas party fiasco; she was never as calculatingly feminine as Jane. Following the humiliation of being treated essentially as an office prostitute by Don, Allison does her best to cope, remaining in touch with her own complicated feelings and emotions only to have them shot down by Peggy, who’s channeling her inner Draper. Realizing the damage she’s doing to herself staying in Don’s SCDP, Allison seizes control of her life and makes the move to the “women’s magazine.”
Jane seemed like she always wanted to end up here.
I’m not sure this decision got the attention it deserved. Peggy and Faye have thus far been the poster children for the women’s movement, while Allison was written as a bit of a weepy yes-sir type. For her, of all people, to break out of the mold and stand up to Don and his asshattery (hurling the most succinct condemnation ever at him in the process: “I don’t say this easily, but you’re not a good person!”) is quite something. Plus, she got to throw an ashtray and break things on her way out. Nice!
The departure of budding feminist Allison eventually (rest in peace, Miss Blankenship) brings us to Megan, the Montreal beauty with the unfortunate teeth (although truth be told, I never noticed anything awry with her teeth until a male friend of mine pointed it out). Megan, who is taking the Jane route while apparently wanting more to do with the Peggy route. Megan, who hasn’t yet seen Don at his worst (as Peggy and Allison have), and loves the man she thinks he is and could be—and yes, I do think she’s in love with him (at least, the version of him that she’s familiar with). She seemed to genuinely enjoy being part of his life on the California trip, but from that slight look of panic in her eyes when Don proposed, she also knew (unlike Don) that vacation is vacation and that once the trip ended things should have gone back to normal. After all, Megan had already flatly stated before their first tryst that she separates work and personal life.
What does the future have in store for Megan?
Only Season Five will tell.
How could she say no, though? She’ll have financial security and, doubtless, job security as well–I don’t think Megan will be a stay-at-home wife. She’ll be with a man she thinks she loves, and that she’s been interested in for an eternity. If it weren’t so utterly warped (poor Faye!), this story could be a fairy tale.
And for his part, Don Draper will be with a woman who’s great with kids (she likes being around children! How strange for a Mad Men character…), fluent in French, attentive to everything (the Clio thanks her), humble (self-deprecating to a fault, actually), young, attractive…frankly, Megan might be too good for Don. The power dynamic between the two is a bit uncomfortable to watch, and I’m not sure what will happen should Megan discover Don cheating on her (as you know he will).
But then, there’s always the chance that Megan is in fact the most calculating of all the aforementioned women, playing a part to the hilt to get exactly what she wants—in which case she’d be the female Don Draper. Season Five just got a lot more interesting.







Ivy Ashe is thrilled to have moved on to the world of blogging after spending the past several months finishing a master’s thesis. When not working as a photojournalist for the Martha’s Vineyard Gazette, she spends an inordinate amount of time mapping out road trips she will probably never take and keeping track of Boston sports teams. Ivy is currently on a quest to own a pair of pants in every color in the Crayola No. 24 box.

"Limit Your Exposure": Homosexuality in the Mad Men Universe



This post contains spoilers about the first four seasons of Mad Men.

1960s America saw its share of emerging social and political movements—the civil rights movement, second wave feminism and anti-Vietnam activism, just to name a few. And in June 1969, the modern gay liberation movement was born. The Stonewall riots resulted in gay people rushing out of the closets and into the streets in the hopes of gaining equal rights. For the first time, gay men and lesbians were able to express their attractions openly, build communities and mobilize activist efforts. None of the recent advances in LGBT equality would have happened over the last four decades were it not for the bravery and chutzpah of the Stonewall Inn’s patrons on that fateful summer evening in 1969.

Unfortunately, in the world of AMC’s Mad Men, it is still the first half of the decade. There was no gay liberation movement between 1960 and 1965, the years during which the first four seasons of the series take place. On the contrary, homosexuality was still considered a deviance by mainstream society and an illness by the medical community. There was certainly no such thing as gay pride—the great majority of closet doors were locked tightly. This makes it harder for Mad Men to address the experiences of gay people than to address those of women and people of color, as it’s a challenge for such a dialogue-driven character drama to address a topic that was rarely discussed openly. But that doesn’t mean that the effort isn’t made.

Despite the complete lack of visibility of gay people in the early 1960s, there is a surprisingly high amount of explicitly queer characters on Mad Men. Only one—Salvatore Romano, Sterling Cooper’s Art Director—is substantially developed, but a half dozen gay characters have passed through the Mad Men universe over the course of four seasons. All of the characters are unique, with distinct personalities and significantly different approaches to navigating same-sex desire in a hostile climate. And while Mad Men steers clear of making profound statements about the nature of gay identity in the 1960s, the characterizations it does present do have a few interesting things to say about gender identity and the ability to out oneself.

To discuss the depiction of homosexuality on Mad Men, one first needs to look at Salvatore. To the 21st century viewer, Sal reads undeniably as gay, yet no one at Sterling Cooper seems to notice this. Certainly, he isn’t out, nor does he intend to be. In season 1, he is a bachelor; in seasons 2 and 3, he is married to Kitty, a sweet and completely naïve woman who is either unaware or in denial of her husband’s internal struggles. Though Sal is an outwardly confident, charismatic and good-looking man, one who attracts the attention of men and women alike, he constantly lives in fear of his identity and the possibility that someone might discover it.

Salvatore and the bellboy

For the most part, the only people who catch on to Sal’s secret are other gay men. He is sexually propositioned by men on three separate occasions: by Elliott, a representative from Sterling Cooper client Belle Jolie Cosmetics; by an unnamed hotel bellboy in Baltimore; and by Lee Garner Jr., the owner of Lucky Strike, Sterling Cooper’s most lucrative account. Only in the case of the unnamed bellboy does Sal decide to give in to his desires. In that instance, he is with a man who he doesn’t know in a professional context, in a city he is only visiting for one night. The stakes are minimal, and his arousal is palpable, so when the bellboy leans in for a kiss in the privacy of Sal’s hotel room, he gives in. The scene is short—Sal is only granted a steamy make-out session and a crotch grab before the hotel fire alarm goes off— but it serves an important purpose. It is the only moment in the series when the audience is able to see Sal authentically satisfied. As the bellboy removes Sal’s clothing, a leak from an exploded pen is visible on Sal’s shirt—as blatant a symbol of unabashed excitement and premature ejaculation as one is likely to get past network censors. As the bellboy kisses and caresses his body, Sal emits heavy, hiccuped breaths and repeated moans of “Oh, God” and “Oh, Jesus.” The intense degree of passion he exhibits makes it clear to the viewer that this is his first sexual experience with a man. Though we never see Sal in an intimate situation with a man again, this scene represents a clear turning point in Sal’s comfort with his own identity.

A layer of complexity is added to Sal’s tryst when Don Draper, evacuating the hotel after the alarm blasts, runs down the fire escape, makes eye contact with Sal and notices the bellboy putting his clothes back on. Sal quickly looks away, ashamed and perhaps even scared of losing his job. Don doesn’t fire Sal on the spot, nor does he even directly broach the topic with him. Instead, he proposes a new campaign for London Fog raincoats that uses the slogan, “Limit Your Exposure.” When Don says this to Sal, his message is clear. And, ultimately, it becomes his undoing.

Lee Garner, Jr. propositions Sal

Sal’s interactions with Elliott and Lee are less fruitful than his night in Baltimore. In both instances, as soon as Sal realizes that he is being propositioned, his body tenses, a look of terror and sadness crosses his face and he declines the gesture. With Elliott, there are no consequences—Sal merely excuses himself from the bar where they had been sitting together. With Lee, though, the rejection costs Sal his job at Sterling Cooper. Lee’s proposition to Sal is abrupt, almost threatening; when Sal bristles at being grabbed around his chest, Lee just smiles and says, “I know what I know.” Still, Sal rejects the overture; embarrassed by the rejection, Lee sees to it that Sal is fired. He meets with Don to try to win back his job, appealing to the fact that Don knows his secret. But it doesn’t work because, in Don’s mind, Sal has violated the only piece of wisdom he was able to give him.

After Don fires Sal, we see him talking to Kitty from a phone booth, telling her not to wait up for him. We are to infer that Sal is going to go off on a night of cruising in the park, and this ultimately reads as more troubling than liberating. We know Sal has only had one sexual experience with a man before, and he certainly doesn’t have the language for discussing his sexual desires, let alone his identity. He is taking Don’s advice to limit his exposure, but at what cost? This is the last time we see Salvatore, and it’s an unsatisfying ending for such a beloved, complex character.

Joan and Carol

Though Sal is the gay character with which the audience spends the most time, the two (briefly appearing) lesbian characters are just as nuanced as he. Those characters are Carol, Joan Holloway’s roommate in season 1, and Joyce, Peggy Olsen’s friend at Life Magazine in season 4. Unlike the gay male characters, who, with one exception [i], only voluntarily come out to other gay men, Carol and Joyce both come out to straight women. Carol confesses her love for Joan in a beautiful monologue before they go out on the town for a night to meet men. As they dress and put on jewelry and make up, Carol confides in Joan, “I did everything I could to be near you, all with the hope that one day you’d notice me…Just think of me as a boy.” Joan pretends not to understand what Carol is talking about, and she gently brushes her words off. As hurtful as that may be for Carol, it’s certainly not as negative a response as it could have been, given the era. And it’s clear by Joan’s soft, attentive facial expressions and the look of compassion in her eyes that, even if she doesn’t acknowledge it, she appreciates what Carol is telling her. It may confuse her, but it doesn’t scare her, and she won’t let it change her relationship with Carol, someone who has been her friend for years. Though sad, there is a bit of sweetness in Joan’s rejection of Carol.

Joyce and Peggy

Joyce and Peggy have a similar, if far less dramatic, exchange. After meeting in the elevator of the building where they work (Joyce works for Life Magazine), Joyce visits Peggy at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce and invites her out to a party. At the party, Joyce kisses Peggy on the side of her face. Peggy giggles and backs away, leading her to tell Joyce that she has a boyfriend. Joyce responds, “He doesn’t own your vagina,” but Peggy counters, “No, but he’s renting it.” Joyce laughs—she takes this as a perfectly reasonable response, even if she did have designs on Peggy. Although Peggy rejects Joyce, it is not (or, at least, not directly) because she’s a woman. Peggy might very well be willing to reciprocate Joyce’s interest, but not while she’s in a relationship.

Both Carol and Joyce are able to say things to their straight love interests that Salvatore can’t say to his. In season 2, Sal develops a crush on Ken Cosgrove, going so far as to invite him for dinner in his home. Though he spends dinner hanging on to Ken’s every word and completely ignoring Kitty, Sal never dreams of explicitly coming out to Ken (or coming on to him). By contrast, Joyce is a blatant flirt. In addition to crushing on Peggy, she loiters by secretary Megan’s desk, chatting her up just like any of the men in the office would do. And during the season 4 finale, she visits Peggy’s office with another friend—a beautiful model named Carolyn. Though they aren’t a couple, Joyce and Carolyn have a definite butch/femme dynamic, as evidenced by the way they sit together and the way Joyce chivalrously puts her arm around her. It doesn’t matter to Joyce if it’s obvious what she’s doing— she is self-confident enough to own her sexuality, even if it isn’t socially acceptable for her to do so. Joyce hasn’t been a part of Mad Men for very long, and I certainly hope she’s back in season 5, continuing to make straight women blush wherever she goes.

It remains to be seen how far into the 1960s Mad Men will travel. Perhaps it will go all the way through 1969. Perhaps we will see a Stonewall episode, in which Peggy and Joyce are caught up in the riots, and Peggy sees Sal with another man somewhere in the crowd. Perhaps we’ll see less gay content, and homosexuality will take a backseat to other social issues, particularly as the Vietnam War heats up. But if the first four seasons are any indication, we’ll continue to see gay characters pop up every now and again, and while their full political and social histories may not be documented, we will continue to see the ways in which they limit—or, in some cases, enhance—their exposure.

[i] That character is Kurt, a member of Sterling Cooper’s art department during season 2. The scene in which he comes out in front of the likes of Ken Cosgrove and Harry Crane is rather funny, but due to space constraints I won’t get into it here.

Carrie Nelson has previously written about Precious, Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire and The Social Network for Bitch Flicks. She is a Founder and Editor of Gender Across Borders and works as a grant writer for an LGBT nonprofit organization in NYC. Her favorite Mad Men character is Sally Draper.

Mad Men and Sexual Harassment

This cross-post originally appeared at The Sociological Cinema

Click here for video

Summary:  Cultural Anthropologist, William M. O’Barr (2010), notes of the popular television show, Mad Men, “[It] is a world of heterosexual, white, male privilege.” O’Barr further observes that “Gender displays recur. The social structure of the office—men in professional positions, women as their assistants—rings true of pre-Feminist Movement America in the 1960s. Every woman is either a Jackie or a Marilyn and every man wants them both—or at least most of the men. The admen direct the lives of women, not just those in the agency, but those in the entire society. It is a world in which men are dominant and women are subordinate and sexualized.” O’Barr draws on a number of clips to make his argument, but one in particular (Season 1, Episode 12, “Nixon Vs Kennedy”) struck me as a useful supplement to a discussion on sexual harassment. The clip features an adman chasing and wrestling a woman to the ground during an office party. Pinning the woman to the floor, he demands to see the color of her panties. The scene is a relatively unambiguous example of sexual harassment, but students might object that the woman who was tackled seems to be participating and even laughing. Here, it might be helpful to note the two women in the clip who were uncomfortably observing the incident and to encourage students to think about sexual harassment as a form of gender discrimination, which creates an unequal work environment for all women. Irrespective of the tackled woman’s outward expression, the incident clearly reinforced for everyone the ideas that women in the ad office are first and foremost valued for their capacity to sexually titillate, and they can be made to submit to the demands of their male colleagues.

Submitted By: Lester Andrist

Mad Men Week: Mad Motherhood

I used to think that I would be the type of mother like Claire Huxtable from The Cosby Show. Calm and together. Beautiful and smart. Making time for a fulfilling career and still having an impromptu musical number complete with costumes in order to illustrate an important life lesson. If my life were a musical I would feel more like Miss Hannagan from Annie. Everything around me is little…

I would like to think that I will never be like Betty Draper from Mad Men. We look at her through our take on modern feminism and feel bad for her. Poor bored Betty. Thank God that we have all been liberated from only having such choices. Betty Draper going to therapy because she can’t talk to anyone about how trapped she feels. How alone. How bored and guilty she feels about the role she has no choice about in her own life. Everything from the way the birth is treated to daily choices within the home. The constant undercurrent is that of limited choices. This is not an antiquated idea. As a mother, I know how it feels some days to count the hours until bedtime. Or to not be able to wait until my husband takes two steps in the door before I am telling him about the terrors our offspring have been that day. Yes, like Betty Draper I relish having a glass of red wine at the end of the day and talking to my friends. Other mothers and caregivers in the trenches with me.

Is that why we feel bad for Betty Draper? Because we know someone like her? Our own mothers? A sister? A friend? Or does she hit a little too close to home for some of us? It is the judgment of her that I have to wrestle with. Poor Pampered Betty Draper. A housewife with a maid and nothing to fill her days but shopping. High class problems indeed. Instead of dumping our kids in front of the black and white TV with three channels, we now have the Wii in monster 65-inch color, surround-sound, high definition. Is spending hours on Etsy so much different than at the department store? Hiding from our children. Hiding from who we are. Betty being so afraid of her own sexuality that her daughter ends up in therapy for “playing with herself.” I am sure all of us have had to confront some issue with our children that we have never anticipated. “Did you really just wipe boogers on the wall?” “Is that a fish stick under your pillow?” “No, I don’t know why trees don’t talk back.”

Parts of my life are not that different from what I can imagine for a 1950s or 60s housewife. Yes I am from the Midwest. Yes I got married at 20. Yes I was pregnant at said event. I still do laundry almost every day. I still wash dishes. For the most part, I have stayed home with my children. But I like being with my kids. I like who they are. I enjoy just being with them and seeing them discover how to navigate this world. The difference now is that so does my husband. He makes more dinners than I do. It is the expectations that are different. Not the reality. I think he would fear for his life if he came home and demanded his dinner. Our house will NEVER be as clean as the Drapers’. We don’t have a maid. We can’t afford it. The choices we have made allow me to stay home. Would we be more financially secure if we had two incomes, of course. Are there mothers out there who do not have this option, absolutely. But more and more I realize that it is other women who are our greatest obstacles. No matter what a woman’s choice is, it should be supported as valid by other women. Too frequently it is not. Working mothers think that stay-at-home-mothers are lazy or spoiled, and stay-at-home-mothers think that working moms are selfish or should be riddled with guilt.

Women are our own worst enemies. Inside our own heads and out. We hear our mothers, our friends. We feel judged as mothers from the time we discover we are pregnant. Keep the baby, or not? Home birth? Water birth? C-section? You will be judged. Breastfeed? Co-sleep? Crib? You will be judged. Vaccinate? Circumcise? You will be judged. Cloth diapers or disposable, home school, or public. You will be judged. Having these choices to begin with is what we should be thankful for. I get it. But that is only half of the equation. Having choices has to be balanced with having the freedom to get to be happy with the consequences of that choice. As Don Draper put it, “If you don’t like what is being said, then change the conversation.”

Look at Peggy. Was it her choice to have a baby? Was it her choice to give it up? Was she allowed to be, if not happy, at least at peace with her decision? She was pushing so hard against the idea of being a woman that she ignored the ultimate difference between men and women: our ability to give birth. Her birth experience was glossed over and not unlike Betty’s out-of-consciousness birth, we are left amazed. We have all known someone whose birth did not go as planned. A home birth that was transferred, or a vaginal birth that had to be a c-section. Women carry around those scars, physical and emotional, for the rest of their lives.

Then Joan. We all want to be more like Joan. She is much easier to take. More modern. Career woman. Waiting until her 30s to get married. Even her physical appearance is more realistic than teeny Betty Draper. But even with all of those curves, she has chosen to be childless. With all of that sex, and two “procedures,” she is still living on her own terms. Fertile. Ready for anything. Her femininity a blatant contrast to all of the men around her.

The female characters of Mad Men bring up feelings for everyone who sees them … either we envy or pity them. Or both. But until we realize that either emotion has validity and is mirroring something about our own mothering, history is bound to repeat itself. Women need to strive to respect one another and support one another. Only then can we feel less isolated like all of the women in the show. Then we can show our children that we are the mothers they want us to be.


Olivia London-Webb writes for herself as therapy. When not writing she likes to cook, drink, stare at art, and chase her children.

True Camaraderie: Don, Peggy, and Something to Prove

Don Draper and Peggy Olson
For me, the most endearing element of Mad Men is the humorous and detailed portrayal of developing friendships. Amidst the drinking, cheating, and general woes of the ad agency is the story of office camaraderie.  There have always been back stories on different relationships that developed at Sterling Cooper, such as the friendship between Roger and Joan, but season four spends a great amount of time further delving into those relationships. It paints a picture of a time where business loyalty meant a commitment from both sides.
Now that the operations are smaller, there is an even closer knit of relations in the office. Season four gave us such delights as Don and Lane taking in New Year’s Eve, as well as offering a closer look into the drunken camaraderie between Don and Roger. Indeed, Don is a man of many women and men, but of all his office friendships, none compare to his kinship with Peggy. From early in the show, Don and Peggy had a professional and personal spark. Don gave Peggy an opportunity to nurture her talents, and while their story isn’t always happy, they are able to understand each other in a way that surpasses all other office duos. In spite of their differences, Don and Peggy share a common fight to be where they ought not be. It is in this fight for survival that the two trade-off dishing out tough love and gentle support.
Don and Peggy’s friendship did not develop overnight and there are clear and present power dynamics that complicate affairs. There are the obvious gender roles at play and the fact that Don is Peggy’s superior. Don also has a short temper and a tendency to project onto Peggy a lot of his own feelings of inadequacy. And while Peggy is hurt by Don’s verbal outbursts she is engaged in self reflection, and mostly welcoming of his mentorship.
It seems obvious to me that Don’s interest in Peggy is directly related to his own struggles with entitlement. Don wasn’t born with money or a name. He didn’t inherit his position in the company or marry into an account. He used his creative “genius” to con his way into a job and rise to the top of his field. This both limits him and gives him strength. He has less to lose, and that allows him to take greater risks. Don sees the way Peggy takes risks and admires her dedication to the work they do. In the episode where Marilyn Monroe dies, Don asks Peggy how she is doing and is surprised (if only for a quick side-glance of a moment) when Peggy responds, “It’s a good thing we didn’t go with Marilyn/Jackie ad. We would have had to pull everything indefinitely.” While others in the office mourn the loss of a role model, Peggy’s eyes are clearly focused on her career. She does not falter for a moment because she can’t afford it. Don gets that because he too knows that he can’t quit running. They share a common fear and subsequently, a common strength of self.
From the moment Don appears at Peggy’s bedside, the two have shared a level of intimacy that isn’t mirrored in any other professional relationship on the show. In fact, the only time we’ve seen Don be this honest with someone is in his relationship with Anna, and Don turns to Peggy when mourning that loss.  In “The Suitcase,” Peggy is the only one in the office brave enough to confront Don’s destructive path. She walks into his office and, with concern asks, “How long do you intend to go on like this?” Moments later she reassures him that he didn’t lose the only person who knew him. Don and Peggy have provided each other with gentle support in a violent world and that support will surely be needed again as the company hangs by a thread. And even as the future of the agency hands in the balance, Don and Peggy march on. While the other partners and employees of Sterling, Cooper, Draper, & Pryce cry into their highballs, Peggy and Don put their nose to the ground and keep fighting for accounts and taking risks.
As the show progresses, I expect to see more conflict between Don and Peggy’s friendship. Peggy has thus far tolerated Don’s destructive side out of admiration and loyalty. I am curious to see how the quickly changing world of the sixties will effect her perceptions of the friendship. I am also curious to see how Don’s engagement will affect the level of admiration that Peggy has previously given him. In “Tomorrowland,” Don proposes to his secretary and we have yet to see what that means for his developing character, but one thing is clear: neither Peggy nor Joan is the least bit pleased about the engagement. As the progressive movement of the sixties marches on, the unspoken gender issues in the office are coming full head. Don and Peggy share the same drive and are invested in the friendship, but they still stand on different levels of the patriarchal power structure. Can their friendship sustain the changing social climate? What will happen as Peggy continues to embrace the rebellion of the sixties youth movement? I am certain that whatever happens, Don and Peggy will continue to be deeply passionate characters whether they have each other’s support or not. I once wished for the destruction of Don Draper. Now, I only want him to be saved. I’m just not sure that it’s Peggy’s (or any other woman’s) responsibility to save him, and I’m not certain that Don isn’t just chasing another dream.
Katie Becker studied at Luther College where she earned a Bachelor’s degree in Communication Studies. She loves saying what’s on her mind and asking inappropriate questions. She recently found the time to start writing again. 

Things They Haven’t Seen: Women and Class in Mad Men

Towards the end of the first season, Peggy Olson goes out on a date set up by her mother. The guy, Carl, drives a potato chip delivery truck, and makes it clear that he doesn’t think too highly of Peggy’s chosen profession. “You don’t look like those girls,” he tells her. Peggy storms off, snapping at Carl, “They are better than us. They want things they haven’t seen.”
I don’t agree, at least not when it comes to the main women of Mad Men. Joan and Betty are victims of both their class and their gender, and the only thing they would seem to aspire to is what they know and what they see: the comforts of an middle-to-upper class existence.
One element that has always fascinated me about Mad Men has been the element of class mobility and class-based constraints. The women, in particular, embody the opportunities and limitations of class during the 1960s. Looking at the characters of Peggy, Joan, and Betty, it becomes clear that if the people who live in Manhattan want things they haven’t seen, they are limited in being able to attain those goals by their class and class constraints.
Peggy Olson
From the beginning, Peggy is presented to us as a girl in her dress and her manners. She tells Joan that she attended “Miss Devers Secretarial School,” and while Joan reveals that it is one of the best, it isn’t a college education. We also see her small and simple apartment, later learning she is from the Bronx and, during the second season, Catholic. Her sister’s husband has been hurt on the job and unable to work, and their rather large family is living in a small apartment. All of this indicates that Peggy comes from a working-class background.
The episode mentioned above is an important moment for Peggy; in the same episode, Peggy has a successful pitch for the “Electrolizer.” Peggy is able to somewhat comfortably talk about the fact that the machine is a vibrator. Juxtapose Peggy’s ability to articulate the benefits of the Electrolizer versus Betty’s experience with the washing machine in the same episode. One embraces the freedom the machine can/could provide for women, while the other has to make do.
Betty Draper Francis
Betty came from both class and means; her family is wealthy, and from the descriptions of her mother, quite proper in terms of gender and class norms. Her mother disapproved of her brief career as a model after Betty had graduated from Bryn Mawr College. All of her married friends seemed to have attended one of the “Seven Sister” schools and traveled extensively in Europe.
For her, her marriage is her goal. She was raised to want to look pretty in order to attract an acceptable husband. She might be unhappy in her marriage to Don, but she has no idea how to escape or to fulfill herself. I saw her holding a rifle, smoking a cigarette, and shooting her neighbors birds not as a symbol of a woman rising up to defend her family, but of a woman who couldn’t bear even a reminder of freedom. Like the birds, she, too, would always come home.
Joan Holloway Harris
Joan, too, is the picture of elegance. She has gone to college and has moved up as far as she can professionally, enjoying being single while looking for a husband. She finds (and problematically marries) an aspiring surgeon. While it isn’t clear what kind of background Joan comes from, it is clear that she possesses the proper credentials for a woman who came from class or means.

Joan’s rape has, obviously, generated a lot of debate. I read it, however, as a type of class sacrifice; in order to “keep” her professional and respectable husband, she has to stay silent about her rape. It is never made clear if Joan truly loves Greg, or views him as her last chance at class respectability. Joan also quits her job at Sterling-Cooper once she is married because it is no longer necessary, but also no longer socially acceptable. But it isn’t just that. When she has the opportunity to read scripts and make valuable contributions to the newly-formed television department, Joan doesn’t speak up when an inexperienced man receives her job. Contrasted with Peggy’s courage to ask for Freddy Rumsen’s old office, Joan would seem to be trapped not just by the constraints of her gender, but the constraints of her upper-class upbringing.
One could also read the competition between Joan and Peggy as a competition between two women from different socio-economic class; Peggy doesn’t know the rules, doesn’t “look” the part, and Joan tries to help her “fit in” as an women with middle-class aspiration. But Peggy isn’t interested in marrying up; her ignorance of the rules is her biggest strength as she is not limited by the gender pressures of middle and upper-class expectations.
Peggy, in her quote about wanting things they haven’t seen yet, could be referring to the women that Don Draper consorts with throughout the first two seasons. Midge Daniels is a bohemian, for class seems to hold no allure or power. Rachel Menken has managed to transcend class (and racial/religious) boundaries and become a power-driven professional woman. The same goes for Bobbie Barrett, who manages her husband’s show biz career with savvy and ruthlessness. Each of these women is successful at eschewing the limits placed on them by class expectations.

It is interesting that when Don is faced with a choice between a non-traditional woman (Dr. Faye Miller) and his secretary (Megan), he chooses the latter. Faye and Peggy are, ultimately romantically punished for their non-traditional interpretations of class and gender norms. It remains to be seen how Faye bounces back from Don’s rejection, but Peggy is certainly doing better than either Betty or Joan when it comes to personal and professional success.
Call it the limitations of an upper-class upbringing; sometimes we can only want what it is we see.
Lee Skallerup Bessette has a PhD in Comparative Literature and currently teaches writing in Kentucky. She also blogs at College Ready Writing and the University of Venus. She has two kids, and TV and movies are just about the only thing she has time for outside of her work and family.