LadyGhosts of TV Past

Mad Men: Marriage of Figaro and “I Don’t Like Your Tone”

Previously on Mad Men:

Betty killed a bird bath, Midge killed a television, Peggy killed Paul’s hopes and dreams of having a shag on his office couch, off-screen Pete killed any romantic notions I’ve ever held about Niagara Falls. Sal was never there; don’t tell anyone you saw him.

Don is on the train, staring contemplatively, cigarette burning in his fingertips, at an ad in a magazine depicting a blue Volkswagen Beetle captioned simply: “Lemon.” A man on his way up the aisle stops and says, “Dick? Dick Whitman!” Don is caught slightly off guard and stares agape at the fat man in front of him before saying, “Larry?” Larry announces that Dick hasn’t filled out at all and must be a bachelor still. Don/Dick simply says, “No,” but Larry continues to ask where Dick is working, makes passing reference to one of their old Army buddies, and asks him to give him a call. “Dick Whitman! What are the chances?” announces Larry as he leaves. The conductor stops to punch Don’s ticket and chuckles at the Volkswagen ad. Don glares at it.

At Sterling Cooper, the Smarmies all pile into the elevator, welcoming Pete back from his honeymoon. In one of his frequent disarming moments of sincerity, Ken says that the wedding was great and asks how things are going. Pete asserts that they are now talking about his wife and he isn’t sharing details, and the guys are like YEAH RIGHT, PETE CAMPBELL. Pete says that during the ceremony he felt a rush of calm and pauses looking as beatific as it’s possible for Pete to look. Harry: “So what you’re saying is a lot of missionary.”

They continue out of the elevator, and Pete allows the Smarmies that they certainly didn’t get around to doing any of the touristy things they had planned for their trip. Ken does not think these are details worthy of Peter “The World Is a Brassiere Strap Waiting to Be Snapped” Campbell, and says he could have gotten a story like that from his mom. Well, Ken, I guess that just means your mom is impressively open about sex for a lady from the generation before Betty Draper. A secretary beams, “Welcome back, Mr. Campbell!” and Harry says that a wedding ring is like catnip for ladyfolk. Yeah, right. I’m sure that’s how that worked for you, “I’m Married” Harry.

Pete babbles some facts about Niagara Falls as everyone greets him enthusiastically. Pete is somewhat befuddled by this because he’s not accustomed to people acting as if they like him, but he accepts it. Then he opens his office door to discover some chickens, and some Asian immigrants, which he identifies as “Chinamen” when everyone laughs. Well, I hope they’re being paid well because I can’t imagine that bringing chickens on the subway was any picnic.

Peggy lets Don in on the prank as she takes his coat and hat. Don remarks that it might mean someone’s doing some actual work in Pete’s office. I don’t know. It seemed like they were probably just sitting around with their chickens thinking, “White people are fucking weird.” Don gets settled inside and Peggy announces that the creative team (Sal, Paul, and Harry) are there for the meeting. Paul notices that Don is newly arrived and asks if he needs a minute. “Do YOU need a minute?” Don demands testily, and accuses Paul of continually pushing back a meeting for Secor Laxatives. They all file in and sit as Don expresses his displeasure with the way they’ve chosen to present the product: safe and reliable. Paul says, “I don’t know what to tell you; I’m blocked.” Harry says he told Paul that Don wouldn’t laugh at that one. Sal has a suggestion that I can’t understand despite rewinding several times to try to catch it. It sounds like, “Secor: Satis-spank-ulant,” but I’m pretty sure my brain is just making that up. Either way Don thinks Sal should not quit his day job. Sal says his point is that they can be funny, like the Volkswagen ad Don was giving the stink-eye on the train. Well, based on the material you’ve presented I’m gonna say you guys can try. Don doesn’t know what he hates more about Volkswagen: the ads, or the car. Harry mentions the company doing a similar stunt last year in which they put a tiny ad on a full page. None of them get it, but Don says it must be working because they keep doing it.

Roger pops in and demands that the “Chinamen” vacate the building by lunch. Don quips that he’s still waiting on his shirts. Gross. I’m making up a story for myself in which these people are professional pranksters who advertise their services in the finest trade magazines and live like kings with their chickens off the idiocy of rich white people. That is”¦ probably not how that works, though.

Don asks, “Have you seen this?” and Sal dutifully holds up the magazine with the Volkswagen ad.

Outside Don’s office, Peggy is doing some typing as Pete saunters up. “I’m back now,” he states. Peggy smiles and acts casual, “I see that.” Pete says, “So”¦ I should be on the list for the meeting?” Peggy says she didn’t know when he was returning, and Pete again states the obvious that he’s back today. Peggy says that everyone is in the meeting and he is free to join. He starts to go in then stops, “Peggy.” He says he’s married, but not particularly firmly. Peggy says she understands, “It never happened.” And then Pete, I swear to god, straight-up Kanye shrugs at her. Pete. You are so bad at this game, but somehow that isn’t stopping you. Pete Campbell is an enigma. Peggy holds it together for a moment as Pete walks behind her, then her face splinters almost imperceptibly. It’s a fantastic moment from Elizabeth Moss.

In the office, they’re still discussing the Volkswagen ad. Pete thinks it’s a great angle, which is a nice little tidbit of character continuity that the show will take into further seasons of Pete having an unexpected eye for the new and different. Sal thinks the car is ugly, Paul thinks the ad is funny, Harry thinks it’s stupid, and Pete asserts again that it’s brilliant. Roger takes the moment to go on a tangent about how brilliance in advertising is “ninety-nine cents.” Don says the fact of the matter is that no matter what it is it’s a thing they’ve been discussing for ten minutes when they should have been talking about laxatives. Paul’s still got nothing to say. Roger says he doesn’t want to hear it and leaves. It’s unclear whether Roger doesn’t want to know that his Creative department isn’t doing their job, or if he just doesn’t want to talk about laxatives. Both? Paul is going to work on it. Everyone gets up to leave and Don reminds them that sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do. Sal mumbles something that sounds like, “Oh, stop it.” I don’t know if my television volume is being stupid again, or if Sal’s diction is particularly poor this episode, or if it’s just really hard to hear him shouting from inside that closet.

Sorry, couldn’t help it. He’s not giving me all that much to work with this week.

Pete lingers behind to do a little smarming. “Good to be back, Draper!” he says cheerfully. It’s really disorienting to hear anyone call Don “Draper” because I don’t think anyone but Pete does that. It’s usually Don or Mr. Draper, right? I guess Pete is still gunning for that military buddies angle. Remember how well that worked, Pete? Yeah. It didn’t. “I missed you!” he tries again. Don: “Then it wasn’t much of a honeymoon.” Remember how that trying to take Don behind the middle school and get him pregnant thing worked? Yeah. It didn’t. Pete’s face falls a little, but Don decides to be nice and continues, “I’m sorry. Welcome back. How’s married life?” Pete thinks it’s pretty swell. Pete swoops in from this new “old married guys” angle and starts to babble about Trudy. Don is strenuously avoiding eye contact and shuffling through a folder, so Pete takes his cue to leave, but throws out one last effort inviting Don for a double date some night. Don says, “Maybe we can!” in a tone that means “Over my dead body, my wife’s dead body, our children’s dead bodies, our housekeeper’s dead body, and the dead body of (spoiler alert) the puppy I’m going to ill-advisedly buy this episode in an attempt to be a good father, and maybe my wife’s friend Francine’s dead body, too.” Pete leaves.

Peggy and Joan are wandering off to the breakroom for lunch when Joan suddenly starts to make theatrical conversation about coffee. It’s a testament to both the writers and Christina Hendricks that Joan is the master of satirizing social graces when she’s making a point about something else. Turns out the something else this time is that “coffee” actually stands for “illicit literature,” and she passes a, uh, well-loved copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover back to (I think) one of the switchboard girls. “Good to the last drop!” the girl, who is wearing some spectacular cat eye glasses, quips. Joan drops her voice and says she can see why it got banned. Peggy looks on with interest. The other girl, who isn’t wearing spectacular cat eye glasses, says she doesn’t have to be shy about it, “It’s literature!” and remarks that Joan’s handbag is huge. Joan says that’s because it has a change of clothes and a toothbrush in it. The next shot, from farther back, shows that Joan’s handbag ain’t got NOTHIN’ on one of the honking rucksacks I haul around, just so you know. Cat Eyes starts to pass the book to Peggy, but Joan stops her and giggles, “I don’t think so,” and opens to a particularly perused section, “It’s got this word in it a lot.” Peggy’s tone hardens and she says she knows the word.

Non-Cat Eyes says it doesn’t matter if it’s literature or not, men won’t read it and they really should. Joan says it’s just another testament to how marriage is a joke. One of the Eyes sighs that they rip a lot of clothing, while the other goes on that it’s a fantasy: everyone’s married and having desperate passions with everyone else. Yeah, based on the “desperate passions” we see later in the episode I’m going to agree and call that fantasy. Peggy is definitely sold. Joan downplays it because Joan kind of hates for Peggy to show spirit, which is something that I never really understood early on. I think it has something to do with the fact that Joan only retains her particular brand of power through the maintenance of a façade of “been there, seen that, seen his beach house” that she needs to remain unattainable to people like Peggy who, though we’ll see her grow and become significantly less naïve, retains the kind of earnestness that Joan probably never had, and if she did, she learned quickly to squash it like a little moth that might fly out of her armor. It’s hard to tell whether Joan senses that this intelligent earnestness of spirit is a challenge to her brand of authority in Peggy this early, but it seems like she might. The fact that this show doesn’t set up simple clichéd narratives of female relationships is one of the things I love best about it. Your thoughts are very welcome in the comments.

ANYWAY. One of the Eyes counsels Peggy not to read it on the train, as she might attract the wrong kind of attention.

In the conference room, with their handy pitcher of Bloody Marys, all the usual suspects from Creative and Accounts are listening to Harry tell some kind of misogynist joke that involves golf and doctors and people hating their wives. Paul lead Rachel Menken into the room, and she is wearing a fucking ridiculous pink feathered hat, but she’s Rachel Menken so she’s rocking it. She walks straight to Don, remarking that she’s pleased he didn’t flee after he cashed her check. Pete makes introductions including some guy from Research who has, “more degrees than a Russian protractor.” Now, I took math last period my senior year of high school–which is the last time I took a math class, and I chose to spend most of those hours at the coffee shop down the street or lounging scantily clad next to the reservoir across town and thus failed the final exam–but don’t all protractors have the same number of degrees? Like a circle is 360 degrees everywhere in the world, right? Your thoughts are welcome in the comments.

British Research Guy (wish you were here, Reigning Queen of Bitchface) is talking about how other high class establishments present their merchandise with a “less is more” aesthetic. Ken says that they even take the heads of the mannequins. I personally find headless mannequins a lot less creepy than the ones with heads and blank faces. BRG continues that other stores of the caliber they are aiming for provide boutique services such as personal shopping and designer collections. Rachel says that yes, their research is quite comprehensive, however, it doesn’t seem to have included anyone from her advertising team actually visiting the store to determine that they already provide these services. Pete makes excuses that he’s been away on his honeymoon while Harry insists that he’s been there and, “it’s a”¦ beautiful place!” Don rolls his eyes a little and assures her that no one has been to her store, but he will come this afternoon. Rachel stands to leave and Pete jumps to say he’ll walk her out, but Don insists. They leave and Pete starts to lay into Harry a little for being a failure of a human being.

Rachel and Don are doing a Sorkin-style walk-and-talk through Sterling Cooper, and Rachel compliments the way Don handled his team dropping the ball. She giggles when he characterizes it as “ineptitude with insufficient cover” rather than a lie. Somewhere in the office there are chickens clucking.

Pete and Harry appear to have made nice as Pete asks if Harry’s ever seen Don “turn that switch on” before and pour on the charm like he did with Rachel. Harry guesses Don likes her and says, “What would you do?” Well, Pete would show up drunk at her apartment, sleep with her, marry someone else, go on his honeymoon, and Kanye shrug her when he comes back. If you’re really wondering. Harry, in a hilarious parallel to Pete’s earlier efforts, tries to bond with Pete with the old married guys routine to significantly greater success. He is trying to explain how to “enjoy the company of women in the limited way a married man can” but allows that he isn’t very good at it. Yeah. I’m guessing. Harry says that these limitations are enough for him, and Pete agrees and says he always thought “Draper” was the same way. Harry says no one really knows anything about Don, “He could be Batman for all we know!” Pete giggles. Pete’s secretary pops in and announces that Trudy is on the phone. Harry is busy laughing at the fact that the chickens shit on Pete’s couch. Unsung heroes, guys. Let’s throw a party for the office couches at the end of this season. Though I’m not sure that the idea of parties doesn’t bring back some icky memories for them. Pete has a happy conversation with his wife about what he wants for dinner, hangs up, and brags to Harry about the conversation he just witnessed.

Don gets out of a cab at Menken’s. He walks in and the first thing I notice is that the Menken’s mannequins have creepy heads. Rachel is talking to a floor manager who is apparently trying to mediate a skirmish between Housewares sales girls. “Why do I hire young girls?” asks Rachel. Don answers because they take low wages and you can sexually harass them for fun. But only the first part. Rachel starts to give Don the history of Menken’s. Don points out that it’s crowded, but probably because of the sale they’re having, and that in order to gain the customers she wants Rachel will have to lose the customers she has. She was planning to start by raising prices.

They meander up to a counter where a girl dressed as I imagine a young Dolores Umbridge might (sorry, I can’t help myself with the Harry Potter references, but seriously she’s wearing what appears to be a bubblegum pink doily fashioned into a cardigan) asks, “How may I help you?” Rachel smirks that she makes them say that. While I really like Rachel Menken’s character and I like her as a foil for Don, on my latest viewing I guess I’m a little more weirded out than I have been before about them bonding over AHAHA MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE and such. But I do think that it certainly makes sense that two people who have had to fight their way up tooth and nail would interact in this self-consciously arrogant way.

Rachel asks to see a tray of cufflinks from behind the counter, and picks out a pair of medieval knight cufflinks for Don. For Rachel, I assume that this is about as close as it gets to throwing her panties at someone.

They wander into the bedding department, where the saleslady is snoozing in an armchair. Rachel and Don make some banter about how it’s a pity they’ll have to chop everyone’s head off to attain the minimalist aesthetic and move on. Entertainingly, the saleslady wakes up right after they leave and smoothes her dress so she can look alert.

Back at Sterling Cooper one of the secretaries invites Pete out for drinks with them, but Pete says he has plans. He pauses to tell Peggy she looks nice. What Peggy looks right now is totally awkward about that.

At Menken’s, Don and Rachel are up on the roof. Rachel says she is taking him to her favorite part of the store and adorably greets some German Shepherds in big cages, explaining that they patrol the store at night. What an awesome job for a dog, right? They were her friends as a child, and though they’re a couple of dog generations past that now she is very fond of them. It’s all very cute. The gist of it is that she has led a lonely life and the store is what she has. Don stops her and says, “What is this? Don’t try to convince me you’ve never been loved,” and they make out a little. Rachel doesn’t know what to say. The dogs are whining the background. It’s probably a warning, lady. Just sayin’. They stand for a while with their foreheads together. Don apologizes, he’s married, and Rachel says he must think she’s stupid. “I guess that’s over.” She asks what, is she just supposed to live some life running alongside his? Are you new here, Rachel? She makes an excuse and leaves.

Don collapses into a seat on the train. A male voice from behind says, “Excuse me,” and Don jumps a little, perhaps expecting, “Dick Whitman” to follow. It’s the conductor giving him back his paper, though. He lights a cigarette and puts his head in his hand.

In the morning, Betty is bustling around the bedroom in an angelic floofy white dress with curlers in her hair while Don sleeps. Sally comes rushing in wearing adorable striped pajamas and shriek-whispering, “Daddy! It’s my birthday! It’s my birthday!” Don scoops her into the bed and clarifies that it’s the day of her birthday party. Betty says brightly that he has to get up and put together the “P-L-A-Y-H-O-U-S-E,” and Don misdirects Sally by interpreting this as “pony.” Sally’s pretty thrilled that she’s getting a pony, and Betty suggests that it may not have been the wisest thing to say. Don thinks she’ll get over it when she sees the playhouse. That shows what you know about little girls and ponies, Don.

Outside, a while later, Don is looking very manly in a white undershirt and seems to be aiming to drink as many beers as he hammers nails.

Sally and Bobby come bounding out of the house and Sally announces her enthusiasm that the playhouse has a red door like theirs. She ends her announcements with, “DADDY,” and Don makes the executive decision to send them to play elsewhere so that he doesn’t have to have all of his thoughts punctuated this way.

We get a closeup of Betty spreading dip on a celery stick. She still has her curlers in, she wonders, “Capers?” aloud, and Francine (Francine!), also wearing curlers, says, “You wanna pick those out of your carpet?” Francine: so wise.  Francine: very pregnant. They talk about that a little bit, and Francine announces that all she wants to eat is raw hamburger. Okay, show. We get it. It’s the ’60s. People don’t know shit. The conversation turns back to the party, and Betty admits that she invited Helen Bishop, known last week as divorcée struggling with boxes, because ran into her while she was buying party supplies and felt bad. Francine would not have done it. Francine is suspicious of Helen because she sees her out walking: “Where the hell is she walking to?” I feel the same way about people who are running, Francine.

Francine and Betty carry the plates of appetizers to the table and pause to stare admiringly out the window at Don, who is looking very manly indeed, drinking a beer and working up a bit of a sweat in his undershirt.

Inside he zips up his fly, washes his hands, and seeing that Betty has the guest soap and towels out elects to wipe his hands on his shirt. Betty catches him walking about the bathroom, but he insists that it will appear untouched. Betty suggests he shower before their guests arrive. Francine: “Want company?” Love you, mean it, girl.

Outside the house with the red door, Betty has put up a giant bouquet of balloons and the guests are arriving. Inside, she is dumping three quarters of a bottle of liquor I can’t identify into a punch bowl. Dark rum? This is my kind of child’s birthday party. Betty offers an array of appetizers, and apologizes for not being able to book the clown that everyone was expecting. He found a job in an off-Broadway show. People make some jokes at the expense of clowns and Broadway. Oh, in a total side note that has nothing to do with Mad Men, but relates to clowns and Netflix, you should definitely check out the PBS documentary series Circus.

Don offers Francine’s husband something “a little stronger,” which is hard to imagine considering the amount of alcohol we just saw Betty pour into that bowl. Francine vetoes this plan. Another couple says that they were just talking about Don because they saw a “cute” commercial about a man flying in a hat. Don’s like uh, no. Francine and Betty go off to serve the kids some food, and yet another nameless husband tells a joke that closely echoes the one Harry told earlier. His wife is embarrassed.

Don starts to walk away, but Francine’s husband catches him and asks how things are going on Madison Avenue. He wants to engage in some AHAHA MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE bonding, but of a different stripe. Don’s not as interested because this seems significantly less likely to result in a make-out session. I do think it’s interesting to watch the men in his life try and fail to make inroads with Don when similar tactics work so much better for women–a certain kind of woman, that is. I think on some level this insinuates that Don, who, as established in the first episode, knows and privately acknowledges that he is an outsider, sees a lot more of himself in the women he sees jockeying for a place a the table than in the men who are already eating.

Speaking of women, more specifically of women whom Don will not be letting into his life any time soon, in the kitchen, Betty and the others are catching up on their kids. The doorbell rings, and Helen Bishop lets herself in. She is wearing pants. She is also wearing a mustard mohair sweater that I totally want. She apologizes for being late and for wrapping Sally’s present in Christmas paper. Betty says that it should be Christmas all year. Coming from Joan that comment would register like a backhand across the cheekbone, but Betty’s employing the same kind of social theatrics in a different way, though ultimately her end is the same. While Joan relies on being the most worldly, the quickest wit, Betty relies on being the most gracious, the best neighbor. Same song, different verse. A little bit quieter and a whole lot worse.

Betty leads Helen and her son Glen into the dining room, and introduces her to the husbands. Don takes Glen off to meet the other children for “peanut butter sandwiches and a BB gun.” Like I said, my kind of party.

Betty asks to speak to Don and reminds him to pick up the cake and take some movies since he bought a camera to do just that and always forgets. Then she takes Helen to the kitchen to make introductions among the other mothers.

Across the house, the men malign Helen, who is apparently a slut because she drives a Volkswagen. Who knew? In another scene of domestic bliss, my upstairs neighbors have taken a break from dragging their furniture around to have a very loud argument. Oh. Nope, now they’re yelling and dragging their furniture around. Kanye shrug.

The ladies are discussing vacations and honeymoons Francine makes some messed-up comments about Jews in Boca Raton. Oh, Francine. I still love you, but fuck off. In an attempt to include Helen in the conversation, Betty turns to her and asks about her honeymoon, “Where did you go?” Helen gives her a really? look and Betty apologizes. Helen says it’s okay, they went to Paris. Well, at least you could come back with Paris. That has to be better than saying Niagara Falls, right?

Betty lets Helen’s topic guide the conversation, and brings up that she went to Italy after she graduated from college. Francine brings it back though, with, “You must have loved Paris, all that walking?” Helen is confused, and Francine clarifies that she’s seen her walking around. Francine, you magnificent bitch. One of the other women asks where she’s going when she does that. Helen says nowhere, which is a concept that the other ladies do not understand at all. You’d think with the pervading sense of purposeless in their lives they’d appreciate walking nowhere. But they haven’t been to therapy yet.

Don is taking video of the kids running through the house. The sound cuts out as we see the kids through his lens, followed by Helen Bishop. We get the episode title a little bit more sneakily than last night as music from Marriage of Figaro plays over Francine’s husband worming his way up to Helen and offering to take Glen to a ball game someday. Helen is like, yeah, and eventually? I would join you at the beach? And some day you’d walk me in with an umbrella? And stay late? And laugh on my couch? No. SHUT DOWN. Francine’s husband drops his bullshit and says he doesn’t want her to suggest to Francine that he said anything of the sort. We cut back to Don’s silent view through the camera as they notice him down the hall and wave animatedly. Smile pretty for the camera, suburbia!

Don’s having another drink outside watching the kids play in the playhouse. Said play involves suggestions to sleep on the couch and the phrase, “I don’t like your tone,” which is understandably disturbing to Don. Helen remarks that the crowd inside the house is “interesting.” Don: “Same crowd out here.”

Inside the ladies get their bitch on about the state of Helen’s clothes and children. Betty stands up for her saying it’s probably hard to have a job. Most gracious, best neighbor, hottest husband. Power comes in all forms.

Glen comes in looking for his mom, and Betty suggest the dining room, but one of the other moms points out that in fact she’s outside talking to Betty’s hot husband. Betty goes out to tell Don to get the cake.

Inside, one of the little boys runs by and knocks a plate off a side table, breaking it. He gets a slap from the nearest dad, and his own father offers to give him some more where that came from. “Go get your mother in here to clean this up.” Smile pretty for the camera, suburbia.

But Don has given up camera duties for the day. He returns with the cake, but elects to drive right past his house instead. The balloons in front reminding us that this is his child’s birthday party he’s skipping make this particularly sad.

Betty gets off the phone with the bakery, where she has confirmed that Don picked up the cake more than an hour before. She wonders if he’s had an accident. One of the men makes gestures to leave, but his wife protests they haven’t done birthday cake. “There’s not going to be a birthday cake. Am I the only one that knows that?” the man protests. He salutes Don for being a first class heel and guides his wife out the door with a, “Swell party, great food.”

Helen offers that she might have a Sarah Lee cake in her freezer and Betty thanks her. Down a Best Neighbor and Hottest Husband, she’s trying to hold onto what little prestige Most Gracious can afford her. Fathers not her own sing “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow” to Sally as Betty cuts into the freezer cake with a giant knife.

Don is smoking in his car, watching a train go by.

Betty is smoking at the sink in big, yellow rubber gloves when she hears the door open and a dog barking. Her hands start to shake as she tries to pull the gloves off, and she decides to leave them on Don is sitting on the floor of the living room with the kids and a Golden Retriever. Sally announces, “Daddy got me a dog!” Betty’s face says, “Of course he fucking did,” but her mouth says, “I don’t know what to say.” She walks off still wearing the gloves. I never realized until this viewing how this ties back to Rachel, who said earlier that sometimes all a girl needs is a dog. I’m reasonably sure that she would also like a father who does not become conspicuously absent from her birthday parties–and a pony.

Don, having effectively stripped Betty of Most Gracious, wishes his daughter a happy birthday and leans back into the couch. We cut to end credits. Worst party in which three quarters of a bottle of rum was poured into a punch bowl in the middle of the afternoon I’ve ever been to, I don’t know about you guys.

Next week: life is hard for Pete!

By (e)Kelsium

Kelsium lives in Southern California with her partner and collection of almost (almost!) kill-proof plants. She enjoys the beaches, but finds the lack of acceptable bagels distressing. She considers herself an expert in red lipstick and internet rage.

2 replies on “Mad Men: Marriage of Figaro and “I Don’t Like Your Tone””

Great recap.

The parallel between Don’s conversation with Rachel Menken and his bringing a dog home for his daughter is exemplary of why I love this show, especially when you consider the persistent father-daughter bond that shows up in later seasons of the show.

Also, I hadn’t thought if it before, but your point about Don feeling like an outsider and therefore somehow relating to women more easily than men, though with the superiority attendant to his masculinity, is well made.

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