Made you look...
Actually, I am going to talk about cleavage!
Oh, Mad Men, how I've missed you. The first of the last episodes aired last Sunday, and I'd say it was worth the wait if the wait hadn't been so ridiculously long. It's now 1970 in New York. The skirts are short, the suits are loud, and the moustaches are hideous. Roger looks like an anorexic Captain Kangaroo or Colonel Sanders, a crying shame, since John Slattery is so gorgeous under all that misplaced hair.
Hideous 70s fashion aside, the episode was fantastic, right? Don seems to be at a precipice (not literally; he's not falling off the damn building like the credits), at a place in his life where something has to give. His existence is empty and getting more so- work, nailing random women, and heading back to a dark, empty apartment. He wants more than that, I believe, but is he capable of having it?
Peggy had a good date. This is rare, for our Peggy. At first, she hesitated about being fixed up, but she went for it, and found herself a cute lawyer. She let her Elnetted hair down, but then regretted being frivolous with someone she might want as more than a fling. Let's see what she gets for making the effort Don seems unable to make.
And now, let's talk about breasts. Or, more accurately, Joan's figure in general, since there's more to admire than just the top half of her. Joan remained self-possessed and collected when the morons from McCann Erickson spent a business meeting making jokes too stupid for the average 12-year-old boy, but she let out some steam to Peggy in the elevator afterwards. Peggy had no sympathy, and told Joan she "can't have it both ways," meaning she can't dress the way she does and still be treated with respect. Joan's comeback was perfect "So what you’re saying is, I don’t dress the way you do because I don’t look like you. And that’s very, very true." Ba-zing!
I usually love Peggy, but I'm with Joan on this one. She is incredibly voluptuous- What's she supposed to do, wear a burqa to work? Even in Peggy's little bow-tied number, Joan would still look like Joan. I sympathize because I too have big boobs; not Joan big, but enough to feel the same pressure, even 45 years later. My problem is cleavage. In high school, my girlfriends and I joked about our cleavage, or lack thereof. We devised a scale to describe ourselves that ranged from 8-lane highway to dirt path. Guess which one I was? Apparently it's verboten in the workplace, at least if you're busty. I see plenty of low cut tops around the office on women with not a lot going on. How is that fair? I'm not wearing turtlenecks all summer because my body shape is different, I'll tell you that right now. I have a friend who used to work at an office with a strict "no cleavage" policy. Her manager would walk around checking out the female employees, making sure there were no violators. If I worked there, I would have made this guy's life miserable (or at least I would have done my best to.)
My point is there is a difference between dressing inappropriately for work, and having noticeable breasts. The only way to hide them is to cover up in a way that makes you seem ashamed of your body. That's so regressive I don't even know where to begin.
Joan made herself feel better with some retail therapy, and she looked amazing in the curve-hugging dresses she bought. I hope she keeps dressing however she wants, and maybe Peggy will learn to loosen her bow tie.
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| Shut up, Peggy. |
Oh, Mad Men, how I've missed you. The first of the last episodes aired last Sunday, and I'd say it was worth the wait if the wait hadn't been so ridiculously long. It's now 1970 in New York. The skirts are short, the suits are loud, and the moustaches are hideous. Roger looks like an anorexic Captain Kangaroo or Colonel Sanders, a crying shame, since John Slattery is so gorgeous under all that misplaced hair.
Hideous 70s fashion aside, the episode was fantastic, right? Don seems to be at a precipice (not literally; he's not falling off the damn building like the credits), at a place in his life where something has to give. His existence is empty and getting more so- work, nailing random women, and heading back to a dark, empty apartment. He wants more than that, I believe, but is he capable of having it?
Peggy had a good date. This is rare, for our Peggy. At first, she hesitated about being fixed up, but she went for it, and found herself a cute lawyer. She let her Elnetted hair down, but then regretted being frivolous with someone she might want as more than a fling. Let's see what she gets for making the effort Don seems unable to make.
And now, let's talk about breasts. Or, more accurately, Joan's figure in general, since there's more to admire than just the top half of her. Joan remained self-possessed and collected when the morons from McCann Erickson spent a business meeting making jokes too stupid for the average 12-year-old boy, but she let out some steam to Peggy in the elevator afterwards. Peggy had no sympathy, and told Joan she "can't have it both ways," meaning she can't dress the way she does and still be treated with respect. Joan's comeback was perfect "So what you’re saying is, I don’t dress the way you do because I don’t look like you. And that’s very, very true." Ba-zing!
I usually love Peggy, but I'm with Joan on this one. She is incredibly voluptuous- What's she supposed to do, wear a burqa to work? Even in Peggy's little bow-tied number, Joan would still look like Joan. I sympathize because I too have big boobs; not Joan big, but enough to feel the same pressure, even 45 years later. My problem is cleavage. In high school, my girlfriends and I joked about our cleavage, or lack thereof. We devised a scale to describe ourselves that ranged from 8-lane highway to dirt path. Guess which one I was? Apparently it's verboten in the workplace, at least if you're busty. I see plenty of low cut tops around the office on women with not a lot going on. How is that fair? I'm not wearing turtlenecks all summer because my body shape is different, I'll tell you that right now. I have a friend who used to work at an office with a strict "no cleavage" policy. Her manager would walk around checking out the female employees, making sure there were no violators. If I worked there, I would have made this guy's life miserable (or at least I would have done my best to.)
My point is there is a difference between dressing inappropriately for work, and having noticeable breasts. The only way to hide them is to cover up in a way that makes you seem ashamed of your body. That's so regressive I don't even know where to begin.
Joan made herself feel better with some retail therapy, and she looked amazing in the curve-hugging dresses she bought. I hope she keeps dressing however she wants, and maybe Peggy will learn to loosen her bow tie.
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