Mad Men has, to some degree, always been about transactions. More specifically, Mad Men is concerned with the buying and selling of happiness. Don Draper is a merchant of joy, creating desire where there is no need, and he’s the best at it, despite the profound unhappiness from which he can never free himself.
At least, he was.
This week’s episode of Mad Men, as per usual, followed a handful of different arcs: Megan is enlisted for a love scene, Joan takes a friend out on the town, Don is eclipsed once again by Peggy, and for the very first time Dawn, Don’s excellent secretary, has her very own plot line — a standoff with Joan. Each plot line was in some way concerned with value — of a service, of a body, of a life.
The show has been very upfront in addressing Don’s attitudes towards women this season — specifically, the way he treats virtually every woman he encounters like a whore (with the notable exceptions of Peggy and Joan … so far). “You kiss people. For money,” he spits at Megan, the same way he did at Betty so long ago. Despite the fact that Megan is a professional actress, she is treated as a prostitute, even by her co-workers, who imply that her career-advancing love scene was only given to her as compensation for a sexual act. Megan is dressed in shades of red throughout the episode, recalling Don’s formative first sexual memories in the whorehouse he grew up in (the prostitute on the red couch was dressed in a red negligee). Megan is laid down the exact same way that Don’s mother is laid down by Mack in the whorehouse, and even further, Don himself lays Sylvia down with the same motion. Even more obviously, Don presses a coin into Sylvia’s hand as he walks across her threshold to commit the adulterous act that he fallaciously accused his wife of committing.
Joan, meanwhile, despite her position as partner at SCDP, is still confronted daily with judgment and misogyny. Harry all but calls her a whore in front of the other partners when she attempts to fire his negligent secretary. The way that she got her promotion is public and very much held against her, and though we know that she is a highly valued executive at the company, we still see her performing what seems to be the same secretarial tasks that she once did (she is often positioned in front of filing cabinets or dealing with routine office operations). The difference from the old days, besides the raise in salary and title, is that she no longer uses her sexuality and beauty as a tool. When an old friend comes to visit and wants to go out on the town to a trendy psychedelic nightclub, she is completely out of place in her early-’60s bouffant and staid blue brocade, compared to her friend’s clean pink suit and blonde hair (again, blue seems to be an important color this season, drawing attention to elements that are out of place). Despite these disadvantages, however, Joan still inspires admiration from her friend (and later, from Dawn) for her professional success and self-care. Joan is the poster child for female independence in her day and age, if not ours — she is the beginnings of second-wave feminism, even when she’s hurt inside.
Peggy has continued to become more and more like Don on his better days. There was little focus on Ms. Olsen this week, but what we saw of her shows that she has very much hit her stride. Her ad for Heinz is high-impact, current, and worked with the clients’ desires (something that Don, even at his best, had trouble doing). Her use of Don’s line “change the conversation” visibly shakes Don, but, as Picasso said, good artists borrow, great artists steal. Peggy has evolved past protege — she’s the frontrunner. Gone are the days of schoolgirl pleats and floppy bow necklines — Peggy’s wardrobe has become structured, streamlined, and expensive.
Most refreshing of all, we got the chance to get to know Dawn, Don’s secretary, for the first time this week. As the only black individual (let alone black woman) in the SCDP offices, Dawn is in a unique and disadvantaged position. Although this is New York and not Alabama, racial tensions still very much exist. When Scarlet, Harry’s secretary, asks Dawn to punch her time card for her, Dawn finds it difficult to say no. Her friend teases her for it, but Dawn balks. “What am I gonna do, throw a brick through their window?” she says, exhausted. She is dressed well, but as inconspicuously as possible. Joan’s firing of Scarlet ultimately leads to a tenuous new alliance between Joan and Dawn: “I don’t care if everyone else hates me, as long as you don’t,” says Dawn when Joan gives her a promotion. “We’ll see,” says Joan, ever the big sister: just the way she was with Peggy so long ago.
