Maidenforms & Mad Men Minutes: Something Doesn't Fit

O IF YOU COULDN'T GUESS BY THE TITLE ALONE, this week’s episode features BRAS. In spades.

You’ll actually find yourself tiring of funny boob puns, and possibly a little disgusted at the way men in a position of (perceived) power can act toward women that they feel pose a threat to that power.

I’m talking, of course, about Peggy, who seems to be getting bolder by the day, but let me back up a bit: Playtex wants to see some ads from Sterling Cooper that will rival the current Maidenform campaign. NOTE: for those of you too young to remember, Maidenform used to run a campaign that featured women in exotic locales and dream sequences conquering the world and stuff. The popular campaign was more fantasy than hard sell. So of course, the guys are more than happy to oblige, with Peggy resigning herself to the duty of copywriter. However, before she realizes what’s going on, the overzealous boys begin to shut her out of the whole process.

Meanwhile, Don’s still bored at home and banging Bobbie on the side. But this week there’s an interesting twist: we find out that she’s got kids. Teenage kids. That go to boarding school and otherwise avoid their parents. Can you even BEGIN to imagine how fucked up they must be? Ho-lee shit. This new info sends Don into a bit of a tailspin; he’s only competent when he’s totally in control, and not knowing about these kids, no matter how far away or grown up, means that Bobbie has the power to withhold info from him. So what would any Type-A control freak do when his mistress doesn’t spill her guts all over his bare chest after sex? Well, he goes off the kinky deep end, that’s what! There is a visible struggle between two dominant types here and it’s…um…

Oh! I forgot to tell you: We meet Duck’s sort-of estranged family. The ex-wife brings the kids and the dog to visit (and to tell Dear Old Dad the news that Mom’s getting remarried, and oh, can you take your damn dog back too?). The cold, hard facts hit Duck pretty hard and he considers returning to the bottle for a minute, but then decides to ditch his dog instead. I hate people who do this to animals. “Go, run free! Return to the wild!” How the fuck is a dog supposed to return to the wild in New York fucking City? And you call yourself sober…

Anyway, Pete’s working on Clearasil, and Peggy’s got a suggestion for a campaign: Two fresh-faced teens go to prom, with their former skin problems not even registering on their minds. Pete suggests “Thanks, Clearasil” as the tagline, and the “Are you serious with that line?” look on her face is priceless, as I’ve been down this bumpy road myself many a time. Naturally, Pete thinks it’s genius and plans to sell it in to his father-in-law at his Memorial Day barbeque. Of course. Because he’s Pete and everyone else is…well, everyone else.

Apparently, while all this drama is swirling around, Kinsey the poseur, er, I mean writer, is bursting at the seams with another brilliant Hemingway-esque idea that won’t make you gag on pretense: women have two sides, one Jackie Kennedy and one Marilyn Monroe. DING DING DING, Kinsey, COME ON DOWN, we have a winner in the GAME OF OBVIOUS. You win…Don Draper’s blessing? Meh.

Peggy is assigned to write the copy, and asks why she wasn’t around when everyone was coming up with this idea. The guys pretty much cop to hanging out at a bar and sorting out a gem from all the bullshit, and that she wouldn’t have wanted to be in the bar anyway. You know, because women and alcohol don’t really make for any kind of a good time. You can tell she’s pissed about being left out, and this kind of crap continues throughout the episode. But don’t worry, she gets the last word in the best possible way.

Draper and Duck have been ordered to bury the hatchet on the American Airlines kerfuffle (I’ve wanted to use that word all week!). But instead of going to lunch like Roger asked them to, they have a quick talk for a few minutes before Don ducks out (heh) to bang Bobbie all afternoon. This guy’s pecker is insatiable – you’d think he’d at least be able to feign interest in Betty once in a while. I think if she knew even half of what he was up to, her head would explode out of sheer jealousy. Time to cast the bra models! No wonder the office is pretty much deserted except for the secretaries – oh, and Peggy, who’s been left out again. She’s steaming and so am I.

Pete’s even in on it, and I don’t remember Playtex being one of his accounts. Naturally, he schmoozes one of the girls on the way out and follows her home like a lost puppy in spite of his efforts to act all suave. So this is how it’s gonna be, eh, Pete? You’re basically going to knock up every chick EXCEPT your wife. Okay. Good plan. Peggy talks to Joan about being left out of everything, and Joan tells her to “stop dressing like a little girl.” Which, yeah, I have to agree. Clothes say a lot, and hers say, “Let’s play dollies!”

It’s at this point that the Playtex guys decide to entertain the SC boys at a strip joint, and Peggy overhears the location (but again, isn’t invited). So she puts on her best slut gear and meets the boys. This pisses Pete off, because it’s a power play, even though it’s one that makes Peggy more uncomfortable than anyone else. I mean, really, who wants to hang out with their boss over some $5 wings and titty tassels? You can take THAT job and shove it (but let me get outta here first, because I don’t want to watch).

Remember how I said Don gets all kinky? He’s got this thing where he tells Bobbie not to talk, but she keeps talking anyway, and she says something about how she heard all about the full Don Draper treatment and then teases him about having “a reputation.” HA HA, Don’s a slut. I find this hysterical, but Chisel Cheeks doesn’t. In fact, he ties her up, gets dressed and says, “I told you to stop talking.” Dayum. That’s pretty harsh, but not harsh enough.

The next morning, as Don’s shaving, daughter Sally watches and says, “I won’t talk while you shave. I don’t want you to cut yourself.” The same words, this time from his sweet, innocent daughter. It’s enough to make him (and me) sick. End credits. I need another fucking drink.

Miz J, who works in advertising, has tons of opinions and a big mouth to broadcast them across the globe; however, the Internet saves her the trouble of yelling. Check out her blog at Miz J.

Posted September 1, 2008