Mad Men is back and I am loving life. And by love, I mean am enthralled by the bad, awful, bad, astoundingly bad behavior. Ever since I saw Betty allow her daughter to play with a dry cleanig bag over her head, I’ve been lost in the madness.
Not only is each episode a wonderful escape from a world of seat belts and responsible drinking, there is all kind of Mad Men culture to consume as well. There are Maureen Dowd articles in the New York Times to ponder, there are parties to attend, there are sixties clothes to buy. . . I might not have time to even finish this season. Thank goodness for Google.
It makes me smile when I hear people talk about the good old days and how jaded we are now. Are you kidding? The victors write the history books! Anyone could only think the feeling evoked by Norman Rockwell (who has a very nice show at the Portrait Gallery right now, in fact) paintings resembles reality because he wasn’t there at the time. Morality is in the eye of the beholder. And so is that amazing style.