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Today's Inspiration

October 13, 2010
Don’s first-season moments with Midge are as rosy as rosy can be—they listen to Miles Davis, smoke a little pot here and there, and go their respective ways—him back to Ossining, her back to Bob Dylan-types and ‘I love you, Grandma!’ greeting cards.

In Don’s mind, the women he medicates with never change. In reality, they stay in the Village too long and wind up slaves to the needle.
Yes, in a quickly decaying New York, it makes sense that counterculture rears its ugly head in the form of heroin-addicted Midge and her would-be pimp husband.
A year or so away from the Velvet Underground’s ode to the drug, Village heroin use was in full swing. A 1965 Life Magazine shoot takes us inside the claustrophobic world of two addicts—a young couple who steal and hustle to feed their collective habit and leave their squalid quarters only to score (don’t even get me started on how much like the recent activities of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce this is). 
Don tells Midge that he’s expected to see her in the Village, and of course he has! Don Draper knows nothing of what it meant to be an early bohemian woman—remember, Midge is living the boho life in 1960, a solid six years before little Peggy Olsen dares to venture over to a loft party. By 1966, Midge’s art career has gone nowhere, and the Dons of New York have moved on to younger and brighter things, and Midge’s flouting of convention has left her (literally) high and dry.
Destruction is on its way—to our SCDP heroes, to the women they throw money at, to the very city in which they all ply their trade. In a few short years, the Village will be uninhabitable for besuited businessmen like Don. The walls are closing in, and Don Draper’s only starting to notice.
*Footnote by- Angela Serratore

Don’s first-season moments with Midge are as rosy as rosy can be—they listen to Miles Davis, smoke a little pot here and there, and go their respective ways—him back to Ossining, her back to Bob Dylan-types and ‘I love you, Grandma!’ greeting cards.


In Don’s mind, the women he medicates with never change. In reality, they stay in the Village too long and wind up slaves to the needle.


Yes, in a quickly decaying New York, it makes sense that counterculture rears its ugly head in the form of heroin-addicted Midge and her would-be pimp husband.



A year or so away from the Velvet Underground’s ode to the drug, Village heroin use was in full swing. A 1965 Life Magazine shoot takes us inside the claustrophobic world of two addicts—a young couple who steal and hustle to feed their collective habit and leave their squalid quarters only to score (don’t even get me started on how much like the recent activities of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce this is). 


Don tells Midge that he’s expected to see her in the Village, and of course he has! Don Draper knows nothing of what it meant to be an early bohemian woman—remember, Midge is living the boho life in 1960, a solid six years before little Peggy Olsen dares to venture over to a loft party. By 1966, Midge’s art career has gone nowhere, and the Dons of New York have moved on to younger and brighter things, and Midge’s flouting of convention has left her (literally) high and dry.


Destruction is on its way—to our SCDP heroes, to the women they throw money at, to the very city in which they all ply their trade. In a few short years, the Village will be uninhabitable for besuited businessmen like Don. The walls are closing in, and Don Draper’s only starting to notice.

*Footnote by- Angela Serratore

4:12am  |  133 notes   |  Angela Serratore |  Bad Boyfriends |  Don |  Don Draper |  Heroin |  Midge Daniels |  The village |  Velvet Underground 
August 6, 2010
Another quick note on the Italian hospital posing as Roger Sterling’s office! His young bride might not know how to handle her liquor, but she’s clearly got an eye for architectural trends. His desk chair is an Eames, and the others are Eero Saarinen tulip chairs. Saarinen, a Finnish architect, is best-known for his simple, sweeping, arching structural curves—St. Louis arch, anyone?

He died in 1961, and a year later his masterpiece was open to the public—the TWA terminal at JFK airport, a structure Yale Architecture dean Robert A.M. Stern called ‘the Grand Central of the Jet Age’. 

One can hardly think of a designer whose ethos is more suited to support (literally!) our SCDP comrades as they march into the future.

*Footnote by Angela Serratore

Another quick note on the Italian hospital posing as Roger Sterling’s office! His young bride might not know how to handle her liquor, but she’s clearly got an eye for architectural trends. His desk chair is an Eames, and the others are Eero Saarinen tulip chairs. Saarinen, a Finnish architect, is best-known for his simple, sweeping, arching structural curves—St. Louis arch, anyone?



He died in 1961, and a year later his masterpiece was open to the public—the TWA terminal at JFK airport, a structure Yale Architecture dean Robert A.M. Stern called ‘the Grand Central of the Jet Age’. 

One can hardly think of a designer whose ethos is more suited to support (literally!) our SCDP comrades as they march into the future.

*Footnote by Angela Serratore

4:48am  |  29 notes   |  Decor |  travel |  design |  Roger Sterling |  Angela Serratore 
August 3, 2010
Betty Draper loves a makeover. She’s redone her home, her hair, and her wardrobe, all in attempts to be her own woman, and yet! Betty’s reinventions are all tied (like she’ll always be tied!?) to Don, and this latest incarnation of Elizabeth Francis nee Draper nee Hofstadt? No different than the rest. 

As Don’s wife, Betty was Grace Kelly at her height. Like a movie star dropped in Ossining, her wardrobe, hair, and makeup all served to enhance her youthful yet polished beauty. She looks like a living, breathing Barbie Doll, ready to be shown off at industry events in Manhattan.  
As her first marriage starts to disintegrate, Betty, no fool, has her second lined up—and a new look to go along with it. If Betty is some 6 or so years younger than Don, and Don is at least 6 years younger than Henry (based on greyness of hair and age of adult children, approximately), then she’s at least a decade younger than her new husband. Unlike that strumpet Jane Siegel Sterling, Betts realizes the gravity of her situation—now the wife of a respected lawyer/political figure in the Republican Party, she’s going to dress the part.
You can see her transformation begin in Season 3—by the time Margaret’s wedding rolls around, Betty has swapped out her trademark candy confection-gowns for an icy blue suit (a suit!) with a fur collar.

Dancing with Don and gazing longingly at Henry, she’s already beginning to look the part of Mrs. Francis, and not unlike Grace Kelly post-addition of royal husband. 

When we meet again in Season 4, Betty’s overhaul is even more striking. At Thanksgiving Dinner, 1964, she looks, well—old. Her brocade suit is mother-of-the-fall-bride, and her hair and makeup are pure Lady Bird Johnson, the First Lady after the Most Fashionable First Lady of All Time.  

The funny thing about Betty’s new looks? They never seem to stick. Not a moment after her fancy (and expensive) decorator placed 42 Bullet Park road in the ‘success’ category, her id went and put a fainting couch right in front of her hearth. The Anita Ekberg Betty of Rome was left behind in the Hilton courtyard, but her resentment at being forced to give it up somehow made it past airport security. 
Only time will tell if Betty’s new look (and the marriage that inspired it) will last.
*Footnote by Angela Serratore

Betty Draper loves a makeover. She’s redone her home, her hair, and her wardrobe, all in attempts to be her own woman, and yet! Betty’s reinventions are all tied (like she’ll always be tied!?) to Don, and this latest incarnation of Elizabeth Francis nee Draper nee Hofstadt? No different than the rest. 

As Don’s wife, Betty was Grace Kelly at her height. Like a movie star dropped in Ossining, her wardrobe, hair, and makeup all served to enhance her youthful yet polished beauty. She looks like a living, breathing Barbie Doll, ready to be shown off at industry events in Manhattan.  

As her first marriage starts to disintegrate, Betty, no fool, has her second lined up—and a new look to go along with it. If Betty is some 6 or so years younger than Don, and Don is at least 6 years younger than Henry (based on greyness of hair and age of adult children, approximately), then she’s at least a decade younger than her new husband. Unlike that strumpet Jane Siegel Sterling, Betts realizes the gravity of her situation—now the wife of a respected lawyer/political figure in the Republican Party, she’s going to dress the part.

You can see her transformation begin in Season 3—by the time Margaret’s wedding rolls around, Betty has swapped out her trademark candy confection-gowns for an icy blue suit (a suit!) with a fur collar.

Dancing with Don and gazing longingly at Henry, she’s already beginning to look the part of Mrs. Francis, and not unlike Grace Kelly post-addition of royal husband. 

When we meet again in Season 4, Betty’s overhaul is even more striking. At Thanksgiving Dinner, 1964, she looks, well—old. Her brocade suit is mother-of-the-fall-bride, and her hair and makeup are pure Lady Bird Johnson, the First Lady after the Most Fashionable First Lady of All Time.  

The funny thing about Betty’s new looks? They never seem to stick. Not a moment after her fancy (and expensive) decorator placed 42 Bullet Park road in the ‘success’ category, her id went and put a fainting couch right in front of her hearth. The Anita Ekberg Betty of Rome was left behind in the Hilton courtyard, but her resentment at being forced to give it up somehow made it past airport security. 

Only time will tell if Betty’s new look (and the marriage that inspired it) will last.

*Footnote by Angela Serratore

5:06pm  |  90 notes   |  Betty Draper |  Fashion |  Grace Kelly |  Makeover |  Angela Serratore