5 lessons Mad Men can teach us in 2020

In-between learning how to bake focaccia bread and downloading different yoga apps, I spent much of my time in isolation binging all 7 seasons of the Showtime classic, Mad Men. When the show first premiered in 2007, I was but a young fresh faced 12-year-old. As such, a show about a New York advertising agency, and the serial philanderers who worked there, was of little appeal to my juvenile tastes.

13 years on and with somewhat more refined sensibilities, plus a roaming eye thanks to my newly acquired Stan subscription, I found myself devouring all 7 seasons in a manner of weeks. The show has become famous for its use of allegory and subliminal messaging and with so many juicy titbits to dissect it was rather a challenge limiting myself to a mere five enduring lessons from Mad Men. But here they are. For those who have not watched the show, be warned, there are spoilers ahead. Continue at your own peril.

The pursuit of perfection leads to misery

From the outside Don and Betty have the perfect 1960s marriage. Both exceptionally attractive, they live in a beautiful house in a quiet street with two cherub faced angelic children. Though Betty outwardly takes pride in being a housewife, in truth she finds the role isolating and un-stimulating. But because Betty has been raised to uphold domesticity as the archetype for female fulfillment, she is unable to get to grips with the cause of her own unhappiness.

Sauvé, sophisticated and blessed with devilishly good looks, Don Draper appears to be a god amongst men. Yet like Betty, he is living in a profound state of denial, though he goes to great lengths to mask this. Evidently charming, we all want the kind of confidence Don exudes but this image of the perfect, self-assured man is a façade. In truth, Don feels like a fraud and understandably so. Don’s entire identity is a lie. He assumed the name of another man after an accident in the Korean war, and it’s the exposure of this lie which eventually leads to the break-up of Don and Betty’s marriage.

Don’s experience debunks the treasured belief that anyone can ‘make it’ in America. He only achieves success through deceit, and despite his often-nonchalant demeanor, he is tormented by his past. Don lives in constant fear that his true identity will be exposed.  

We see comparisons of this dangerous game in today’s social media driven world, when we assume other people’s lives are so much better than our own. When we scroll through our social feeds, it is easy to feel overcome with a dose of the green-eyed monster. It is worth remembering however, that our digital selves are often curated polished versions of who we really are. We may not be living a lie as profound as Don Draper, but many of us still choose to conceal part of our identity or are at least reluctant to show ourselves at our most vulnerable. Mad Men reminds us that perfection doesn’t really exist and even when someone may appear to have it all, they almost certainly don’t.

Beauty isn’t everything

Throughout the series, Betty’s looks are the source of constant admiration. The audience is reminded that even in the glamorous world of 1960s advertising, Betty is considered beautiful beyond measure.

Though well educated, it’s clear that Betty considers her appearance to be her most important asset. In season 1 when she is in minor car accident with her children her greatest concern is that her daughter, Sally, may be left with a facial scar that would make her undesirable to men. Betty has been raised to believe that her purpose in life is to ‘find a man,’ yet despite having done so she remains deeply unhappy.

In season 5, Betty gains weight and her entire sense of self-worth is called into question because she has built her identity almost entirely around her appearance. No longer seeing herself as the beautiful, elegant, dutiful wife on the arm of her husband, she is embarrassed to go out and hides behind the walls of her home.  

When Betty is diagnosed with terminal cancer, the letter she leaves to her daughter Sally, far from a heartfelt final declaration of love, is a series of instructions regarding how she wants to be presented in her casket. Even when faced with the prospect of death, Betty’s primary concerns remain superficial and she continues to crave the approval and admiration of others. 

In our current image obsessed age, Betty’s tragic experience reminds us that achieving outward perfection does not lead to happiness. Perhaps Betty stands as a chilling warning to the Instagram generation and the proliferation of influencers who seek the approval and admiration of others. Using said approval as a measure of our own self-worth can be a toxic and hollow way to live. If our sense of self is so dependent on others, it becomes incredibly fragile and something as minor as gaining weight can leave us shattered.

Ideas will flow when you let it go….

Don Draper is an expert salesman and this can be attributed to his ability to tell a good story. Don understands that he isn’t selling products but feelings. Any copywriter worth their salt understands that good advertising is about satisfying a need or desire. Don’s creative genius springs from his ability to tap into the emotional longing of others.

Unlike most of his male colleagues who have been born into wealth and privilege, Don’s impoverished childhood and experience of war left him with an acute sense of his own mortality. His upbringing has not lulled him into the delusion that the world is a beautiful, happy place. As a result, Don is often cynical about the nature of his own profession. Despite this, he understands the world in a way few people do.

However, Mad Men seems to ultimately reject the popularised idea that inner turmoil, unhappiness and substance abuse are a conduit for creative genius. It is only when Don confronts his past in the final few episodes of the series, that he seems to find a measure of inner peace and a great revelatory breakthrough occurs.

Mad Men’s finale implies that Don is the creator of the iconic Hilltop Coca Cola ad. The timing of this revelation suggests that in order to unlock our full potential, we need to confront the cause of our own unhappiness. 

Know when it’s time to bid adios

When your competency is not only questioned but openly ridiculed, this is a fairly telling indication that it’s time to leave. In the final season, we see Joan, a woman who possesses an unwavering talent for self-composure, calling it quits when she finds her new work environment intolerably chauvinistic. After Sterling Copper & Partners becomes swallowed by the mammoth bureaucracy of McCann and Ericson, not only are Joan’s skills and experience not valued by her new colleagues, but she is not taken seriously as an individual. Joan’s position as an account executive is offered begrudgingly after the two companies merge and though her title conveys a degree of prestige, it comes with no autonomy or respect.

Through Joan’s experience we’re reminded of the impersonal nature of corporations, where individuals become viewed as disposable cogs in a machine, their skills often going unrecognised or undervalued. Joan is not naive about the world and is able to navigate the parameters of 1960s sexual harassment better than anyone else. Much like Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, she eviscerates subordinates with a mere stare of dissatisfaction.  When her final attempt at workplace diplomacy aka male ego coddling is thwarted by her repugnant boss, she has at last reached her threshold of male douchbaggery, and bids them a not so fond farewell, leaving the den on inequity in her wake.

Know your worth even when others don’t

Joan leaves, taking her rolodex with her and launches her own production company, something that would have been unthinkable in season 1. Joan is one of the most transformative characters in the series. When we first meet her in season 1, she seems desperate for the security and respectability of marriage. She clings to this idea of an idyllic, conventional existence so fervently that she agrees to marry a man who raped her. Her later disillusionment with marriage proves that the image of a perfect heteronormative life is a lie. At the end of the series Joan is not in a relationship, yet for the first time, seems completely self-assured and content. She has at last realised that she needs to stop asking for acceptance from the patriarchy and has given up trying to satisfy gender expectations that devalue her. Mad Men’s conclusion sees Joan as her own boss, a position she was always capable of yet didn’t even think to dream of when we first met her. Joan surpassed her own expectations and in doing so teaches us to expect more of ourselves and not hold our sense of self hostage to the approval for others.

Mad Men: the timeless classic everyone needs to watch.

The modern workplace has undergone significant transformation since the days of Mad Men. Drink carts in the office and workplace sex aren’t exactly met with the same grin and nod of approval they once were. Thankfully women are deemed worthy of a little more responsibility than answering phones and typing correspondence.   

Though I’m grateful to live in a time where gender equality isn’t deemed a radical or subversive idea, so many themes of Mad Men have a timeless resonance that modern audiences can relate to, all of which makes the series infinitely worth watching. 

Have you devoured what is arguably one of the greatest 1960s-set dramas? If not, I encourage you to add Mad Men to your pandemic crisis viewing schedule.