Here's why it's Don Draper fall

I'm in my masculine and it's all your fault

Me watching Real Housewives of Potomac

I’m watching Mad Men right now and I’m captivated by the protagonist, (m)ad man Don Draper.

I went through my Tony Soprano phase already, and in many ways will probably never leave it, but this fall calls for something a little more… aspirational.

I’m not one to pit two beautiful fictional men against each other, but Don is played by Jon Hamm who I’ve been in love with from afar ever since I was told by my old boss that he regularly saw Jon grocery shopping at Gelson’s in Silverlake a few years ago. I just think that’s the mark of a well-rounded wealthy man, and picturing him reaching for a box of cereal and clenching his jaw while he reads the ingredients list under fluorescent lighting amongst the normals made me feel like he’s the kind of person I could fall in love with, so he has the unfair advantage. Both Tony and Don by virtue of their bad behavior expose the fatal flaw running down the middle of the American dream, with Tony subverting it by making his way illegally to the white picket fence and Don showing ethics aren’t much better at the top of the ivory tower.

Don was basically born on a dirt floor and bootstrapped his way to boss status, which isn’t something we have anymore. Now men commute to a WeWork in Midtown 3 days a week and act like it’s the gulag. They haven’t earned cheating or wet lunches. They’re not barging into a meeting hungover, going off nothing but days of sleep deprivation and decades of repressed trauma. They’re asking Chat GPT to make a limp tagline “punchier” and getting overstimulated.

You might be saying, But Sarah, you don’t want to be like him! Don Draper is a capitalistic womanizer who cheats on his beautiful blonde wife with beautiful brunette whores constantly and he’s really deeply unhappy – that’s the whole point of the show! And to that I say, let’s fucking goooo!

A friend suggested I watch Mad Men a few months ago when I was in a particularly misandrist place — “for the way Don treats women”, which so far is badly, suffice to say.

I’m only on season 4 or something right now, and I have to say our boy is getting more worser every episode. I just saw him in a tartan suit, a clear sign that the 60s have taken hold and Don is growing more and more radical and self-actualized at every turn. I found myself saying out loud to an empty apartment, Wow – He’s finally living for himself.

Why do I superimpose myself in the shoes of Don Draper types? I’ve always done this. I remember sneaking into the theatre to see The Wolf Of Wall Street in 9th grade, popcorn falling out of my mouth at the sight and sounds of Margot Robbie as Jordan Belfort’s wife despite his horribleness. I reference Goodfellas like I’m somebody’s boyfriend. My profile picture for the family HBO account is Christopher Moltisanti of the Sopranos. I spent crucial formative years getting close to and trying to understand disobedient and emotionally stunted men, and why they thought they could be so awful and still be loved. I think Freud had a name for all that…

Fictional women are not embraced like this. Actually, they’re crucified for just being annoying, cringe, and a bit of a bitch, which NEWSFLASH – I literally don’t know any woman (or man) who isn’t that once in awhile, sometimes even all at once. So yeah, the Carrie Bradshaw haters doth protest too much. She’s never even come close to killing anyone just because she was in a bad mood. The real-life non-fiction man in nearest physical proximity to you right now at this moment can’t even say that.

Another one of my crucial points. Also, *it’s.

But I’m proving my own point. I don’t yearn to be like Carrie the way I do Don, at least on an esoteric level. I’m a writer which, if you hadn’t noticed, means I’m a very keen observer and that I can make almost anything about myself. Don commands a mixture of fear and respect at the office but the audience knows he enjoys getting slapped during sex by busty redheads in a nice hotel room. That’s what we literary types call a juxtaposition. Don is a walking contradiction. He contains multitudes. He’s quite literally self-made, does whatever he wants and he looks good doing it. Kinda like a girl with a lower back tattoo marrying into crazy generational wealth. Hmm…

I’m into the tangible lately. I’m reading a hardcover book and running 10 miles a week. I’m drinking only natural wine. I got a new laptop. I manipulate people. I’m being creative director. I do something naughty and debased once every two weeks so I feel in control of literally everything that happens to me.

I’m having a Don Draper fall!

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