Mad Men Marathon… Can I Call In Sick?

You are cordially invited … to an all day Mad Men Marathon!

AMC TV – shame on you! How many Americans will be calling in sick today to watch 13 hours of Mad Men Mania, in anticipation of next weekend’s Season 3 premiere?

OH, you say… that’s what TiVO is for?

And those of us who are sans TiVO, despite all sorts of other gadgets?

The dusty, ancient 20-year old VCR is long past working.

But, no matter… (cough, gasp)… I’m feeling a recurrence of viral pneumonia coming on. I may have to take to my bed in the quiet (with the remote nearby).

Really, AMC TV… you ought to be ashamed.

Some of us are, well… okay, I’ll just say it. Addicted.

You hooked us, and pouring over proposals or spreadsheets just doesn’t compare to character Don Draper in action. We can’t help ourselves… Gorgeous men with mysterious secrets. Crisp white shirts with a pocket square. Mmm. Memories of so many Cary Grant movies. Or Clark Kent! Our heroes, dwelling in suburban neighborhoods of brick, horizontal split-levels.

And the women… with their undercurrents of longing. Their denial. Their sexiness.

Those seemingly simpler roles that hold appeal in our gender-confused society, even if the appeal is mostly from a distance and through the mist of nostalgia. (The reality? Many of those women were choking in the constraints of “a man’s world” – or rather, a white man’s world.)

We may enjoy elements of peering through the peep hole into this particularly seductive (and deceptive) era, but not without awareness of the problems boiling under the surface, and the ways in which the world would change dramatically over the next four or five years.

Enough serious talk! More Sixties TV and Mad Men pics!

And  meanwhile, what to wear, what to wear…

Jackie Kennedy pillbox hat. White gloves, of course. The pocket book, perhaps brown crocodile (before we were enlightened). Love the way the little clasp clicks shut.

Breasts and hips are fine to accentuate, ideally with a cinched waist. A nice wide belt.

And tease that hair into a fashionable flip! (Thank you young Patty Duke, thank you Mary Tyler Moore). Maybe a nice, jingling charm bracelet, and of course the proper pumps, low heel for day, unless you’re trying to impress…

As for the sixties décor? Dark paneling and plaid, tones of olive, orange, yellow. Geometric sofas in chenille, leather arm chairs for the men, coffee tables; ashtrays are prominent and plentiful. A view to the black and white television, where the family gathers after the evening meal.

Remembering

Oh AMC TV – I’m mad for Mad Men and mad at you!

You’re taunting otherwise responsible viewers with 13 hours straight of Season 2. It’s maddening. And I doubt I’ll have the strength to resist…

I’ll hurry through my parental duties, distractedly… skip the dishes and the laundry, push aside the pressing projects, and (during a commercial break) rifle through the bottom bureau drawer looking for my grandmother’s white kid gloves from Bergdorf’s.

And maybe mid-morning, when I can take a small breath in the long day, I’ll have another coffee. But using a real cup and saucer.

Then I’ll take a few minutes to remember.

Laura Petrie (Mary Tyler Moore), who made it acceptable to do housework in capris. My grandmother, who wore a house dress by day and changed for dinner – a sweater set and skirt, her choker of pearls, and lips painted deep red.

I’ll remember her tiny kitchen of knotty pine and yellow linoleum, the magnificent meals that she served on an impeccably set table in the dining room. She never raised her voice, never contradicted my grandfather in public, but her word was law. She made everything seem beautiful and easy in those years; it was a different world, innocent and orderly, especially through a child’s eyes.

Yet occasionally, my lovely grandmother let down her guard, and something I couldn’t yet understand showed through her composure. Something wistful. Then she put it away, and went on about her daily duties. Quietly.

Images courtesy AMCTV.com. Read more Mad Men musings and recaps.

© D. A. Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy