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It's Memorial Day, and there's s big powwow going on at SC, as Playtex, an apparent longtime account, is suddenly jealous of Maidenform's ads. Paul, of all people, ends up spearheading the direction of the new campaign, and Peggy is bummed, since she wasn't at the boozing session at which the rather sexist Madonna/whore idea was hatched, nor is she included in the casting sessions for the pushing of said grotesque idea. In keeping with the episode theme, Pete's brother advises him to take a vacation, which he interprets as an invitation to cheat on his wife. Duck's ex-wife shows up with his kids and his dog, and Duck learns that a suitor is this close to wedding the mother of his kids.
Meanwhile, Roger orders Don to make peace with Duck, and Don comes in and tells Duck that he's been pushing clients' ideas on him rather than the other way around. Duck, however, thinks he's just been a good soldier, and seems to sell Don on this idea enough to achieve détente. Arthur sees Betty at a party, and the awkwardness gives way to some flirting. When Don ducks away to call Bobbie, she invites him to come spend some time with her, and lets him know of the existence of her college-age son and daughter. But the fact that Don's continuing to cheat doesn't stop him from telling Betty that she's desperate for male attention. However, when Don finds out that he's the one who has a reputation, he ties Bobbie up and leaves her there. Peggy takes Joan's advice, which entails dressing like a woman and showing up and the boys' boozing and burlesque session, and it seems like she and Pete might be conceiving another child soon. But in the end, Sally unwittingly makes Don see how he's been treating women, which results in a broody, if cinematic, ending.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!This is possibly the most textured episode the show has done. I'll try to do it some measure of justice.
The Decemberists' "The Infanta" plays over a sequence of women -- Betty, Joan, and Peggy -- getting themselves dressed. The music abruptly cuts off, however, as we get a closeup of an ad being tossed onto a desk, which depicts a woman standing in front of a locomotive with her blouse off, with the iconic copy reading "I dreamt I stopped them in their tracks with my Maidenform bra." Sue Ellen Mischke would be so proud. The ad, as it turns out, is the subject of a big powwow in the conference room, because even though, as Don points out, this ad's concept has been around for ten years, Playtex is an SC client, and they're suddenly unhappy with their brand's image. (Roger: "Someone has a wife with an opinion.") Ken asks Peggy if she wears Playtex and if so, why, and Peggy says she does, and she agrees with the women they surveyed that its fit is unsurpassed. After a little Duck-Don sniping of the kind that's become very frequent in this season, Roger tells Don to throw them a bone and show them that they're paying for Creative. Don is less than pleased, but the meeting breaks up without any casualties. However...
...in the main area, a nervous secretary babbles to Duck, eventually managing to convey that his ex-wife is there. Hopefully Joan didn't hear that performance, or Lois is going to have some company over at the switchboard. Duck's dog, "Chauncy," a beautiful Irish setter, comes bounding up, and Duck eagerly greets him as the ex watches disapprovingly. Duck comes over and greets his teenaged son and daughter, and then he and his wife allude to some apparently-quite-serious medical condition of her mother's before she tells him she'd prefer not to discuss it there. Duck tells her he can't leave at the moment, pointing out that she's early, but she counters, "Well, I know you're not good in the afternoons." I'm sure he at least admires her facility with words. Anyway, he firmly informs her that that's not true anymore, an assertion she ignores in favor of saying goodbye to the kids. He tells them that they're going to have a great time, adding that he got tickets for A Funny Thing Happened... The daughter uncertainly says they saw it already, but Duck replies, "Not from these seats." The ex makes her way out, and Duck leads the kids and Chauncy toward his office, telling them they'll have to wait a bit. Freddy intercepts them, and Duck introduces the kids as "Mark" and "Patricia." Freddy asks for a moment of his time, but Duck tells him to say what he needs to say, so Freddy spills it: "We're going to need another box of brassieres." He sounds slightly embarrassed, which is more than I would have expected from The Zipper Instrumentalist. Business finished, Freddy tells them to enjoy their Memorial Day, and Duck manages to resist bragging about the theater seats again.
Sal and Peggy are in with Pete in his office on Clearasil business, and Pete isn't happy about the child photographs they've got on tap. "Compared to the kids on American Bandstand, they look miserable." I only saw one girl's picture, but she looked miserable even compared to the children on Kid Nation. Peggy pitches the idea of a print and TV campaign depicting two kids going on a date to the prom, with their skin not even being on their minds. "They're two kids who used to have a problem." Pete likes the idea, and suggests "Thanks, Clearasil!" for the copy. Peggy: "I'm gonna think about it." Heh. Sal's all over it, but Pete has to save some face by saying he'll "eventually" pitch it to his father-in-law. Once he "eventually" figures out how to take maximum credit for the idea, he does not say.
After an establishing shot of a random foursome on the links, we're in a clubhouse, where Don is mentioning to some guy that he doesn't play golf, while Betty's chatting with another couple about the Rosenberg execution and the potential for a mass Sing Sing escape. You have to keep it light at these things. Don's guy, who's in PR, pulls him aside for some shop gossip, saying that basically, his team got canned from his firm because the CIA hired them to push rebellion-themed propaganda on the Cuban people in the lead up to the Bay of Pigs. I feel like I should say something here, but it kind of speaks for itself, no? Like, I can't imagine anyone actually needed to state a reason at the firing, right? Anyway, Betty's couple leaves her to go talk to husbands and wives who actually hang out with each other, which gives Arthur, speaking of people who hate their significant others, the opening to approach Betty, saying he's been coming to the club since he was a kid. Hmm. I thought we were meant to think a silver spoon was absent from his childhood, but I suppose these things are relative, given that it sounded like his fiancée's family owns half the Eastern seaboard. Betty explains that they're guests of "the Patersons," who I suppose are the couple we just saw, and after an awkward pause and an equally awkward speculation by Arthur that Tara is "over there, I think," he tells Betty that he hasn't seen her riding, and worries that he's the reason she changed her schedule. Betty charitably tells him not to be ridiculous, but, as Don watches from across the room, Arthur tells her to please ride when she wants, and he'll stay out of her way. He starts to leave, but she calls him back and favors him with a big smile. "As we used to say in college, let's be friends." Arthur can barely contain his joy to be back on speaking terms, and tells Betty that she would have enjoyed seeing him get nosed into the trough the other day. Nothing against Arthur, but I certainly wouldn't have passed that one up. Betty giggles and hair-tosses for a moment, seemingly not so profoundly sad anymore, but then her kids rush up and wrap themselves around her. This makes it difficult for Arthur to continue picturing Betty as the college freshman he's about to bone, so he makes himself scarce. Back over with Don, the PR guy is bitching about how JFK is chasing starlets while his wife is smiling at people all over the world, and mentions that he's building a bomb shelter. "If you see Petra, don't mention it. She doesn't want anyone to know." Understandable -- the squatter situation could turn out to be exceedingly awkward. An older gentleman gets up to the mike and announces that it's a tradition that they have their "ribs and fashion show" (I... don't know) on Memorial Day every year, but they mean no disrespect to the many soldiers who are off serving their country, lugubriously adding, "many of whom will not be enjoying ribs this afternoon." That's one of the most unwittingly hilarious lines I've ever heard. Forget shrapnel and lost limbs -- it's the deficiency of pork that's a soldier's toughest cross to bear. The emcee invites all present servicemen to be recognized, and Don, of course, is forced to stand and receive his accolades, although if no one knew him there, he'd probably be not merely sitting but hiding under the table. Sally claps and regards him with such daddy-worship that it could make you cry, though, and Don looks not unaffected.
Pete and Trudy are hosting a little barbecue at their apartment with the huge terrace, although they're kind of missing the point by eating inside. In attendance are Pete's brother Bud and sister-in-law Judy, and they discuss their summer plans, with Pete, as always, saying he'll have to work, and Bud mentioning that their mother, as always, will expect him on Fisher's Island. Pete: "I see her crossing the Widow's Walk with an eye to the sea." Trudy reproaches him, and I like her, but honey, the only thing I can stand about your husband is his consistently and surprisingly amazing comic timing. Don't deprive me of that. Bud tells Pete than when he talked to their mother the other day, she wouldn't shut up about Pete, and Pete asks if that's really true. Bud's like, "You've met her, right?" They chuckle, because humor is the one of the two ways WASPs deal with familial dysfunction, and if they drank every time they talked about their effed-up mother, they'd pass out before the main course. Judy archly says she doesn't get what's funny, so Trudy ushers her off to the kitchen to withstand some story about how Judy's younger sister got all the attention or some shit. Bud asks Pete why he doesn't take a proper vacation, but he tries to claim that he's very important to the agency, even though last episode he complained to the fertility doctor that he was totally replaceable. "My absence is felt." I suppose savoring is a form of feeling. The women return, and Pete jovially declares, "Let's see how the Ottomanelli Brothers treated us." With great taste and high cholesterol, if my own experiences are any indication.
The ribs have been served and the girls have been stripped to their two-pieces, and it's at this point that Don tells Betty he has to go. Betty points out that this is not the point at which most heterosexual men would leave, failing to realize that it's a perfect time for said men to take off if, as Don does, they plan to be having intercourse as soon as they reach their destination. He spins some yarn about checking in at the office, and bails despite his wife's obvious disappointment. He doesn't even say goodbye to their hosts, but manners sometimes give way to time concerns on television. Don leaves...
...and from a pay phone outside calls Bobbie, who tells him she has to change their plans, as she's spending the day at the beach with her eighteen-year-old son. "I don't know why I never brought him up." I'd suggest that it's because mention of family makes infidelity somewhat less appealing as a general rule, as Arthur so kindly demonstrated, but something in Bobbie's voice suggests that she's actually acutely aware of this. She mentions that Jimmy's going to be in Kentucky for the ten days, and offers to stay out at the beach house and have Don join her. "You never saw it." He tells her not to bring that up, and she's surprised that he doesn't think about the accident, as she does all the time. Don is not so much interested in these "feelings" that she seems to be having, and ends the conversation by saying he'll call her. Bobbie: "I'd like that." You know I've always hated this relationship, but it was never because I thought Bobbie was too good for Don. Until now.
Don arrives home, gets a drink out of the refrigerator, and looks out the window contemplatively. I thought he might have the decency actually to go to the office after his tryst plans unraveled, but if he had, we wouldn't have this cinematic scene.
The day in said office, Pete strolls in and jauntily tells Peggy he ran the "Thanks, Clearasil" idea by Trudy's dad, and he loved it. She takes this in stride, and they exchange small talk, with Pete saying that he and Trudy went to see "[The Man Who Shot] Liberty Valance." He gives away the ending, and then gets amusingly pearl-clutchingly "SPOILER!" about it, but Peggy doesn't care. He then, surprisingly, shows both enough awareness of the truth and enough respect for her to admit that he knows she doesn't like his line, but Peggy Mona Lisas him, saying that it's all about keeping the client happy. "I do my job; you do yours." He asks what that means, but she's disinclined to explain herself, so he inquires if she's still out in Brooklyn. This is far more potentially dangerous ground than the Clearasil stuff, as we all know what happened the last time Pete went to Brooklyn, but Pete doesn't seem to have an agenda -- he's probably just used up his quota of clues for the week. She tells him she's in Prospect Park now, and she spent the holiday with her family. Finally tired of trying to get her point across in body language, she tells him she has a lot of work to do, but once he's gone, she looks intrigued by his visit. Honey, don't do it. Anita's about ready to blow as it is.
Jane comes in with coffee for Don and brightly asks him how his day off was, and Don does not reply "Sexually frustrating," instead coming up with "Restful." Jane tells him she went to the beach, and he points out that the lobster makeup she's sporting makes that patently obvious. Roger enters as Jane leaves, and when the door's closed, he asks Don, "Has your wife seen that yet?" Heh. Roger then gets to the point of his visit, which is that he wants Don and Duck to have lunch and try to bury the hatchet, and not between the other's shoulder blades. Don tries to claim no hard feelings, but Roger's typically sugar-free: "I've been married for twenty years. I know the difference between a spat and spending a month on the couch." He makes to leave, but when he opens the door and sees Jane's shapely backside, he looks back to give Don a conspiratorial glance. A little Roger goes quite a long way. Much farther than a lot of him does.
Duck pushes hot chocolate on his kids despite his son's lack of enthusiasm: "It's good when it's hot to drink something hot. If you'd continued with the Scouts you would have learned that." Mark does not point out that Duck's imbibatory education was perhaps carried a bit too far, but that's what his mother's for, I guess. He tells Patricia that she can use the phone but can't monopolize his secretary, and leaves them money for the food cart: "No scraps for Chauncy." I'd feel bad for the dog if I thought there was the slightest chance that the kids were going to listen. Mark, however, is pissed that he's being forced to burn his mouth on hot chocolate at the end of May, so he pipes up that he's got plenty of money -- a hundred and fifty bucks, to be exact. Patricia shushes him, but is then forced to admit that the money came from a "Mr. [Franklin] Reeve," who's apparently greasing the kids so there will be no resistance when he marries their mother. Duck chokes back some vomit as he says they all want the kids to be happy, "and whatever his intentions, it's very generous." Mark confesses that Reeve already asked her, and Duck sucks it up and says she has the right to start a new life, especially now that Mark is at boarding school and "she's lost her man of the house." Mark seems more like a Man of the West Village to me, but unless Sal's into the May/December thing I doubt it's going to be explored. Duck's equanimity is finally shattered, though, when Patricia tells him her mother's going to stick him with Chauncy, and Mark adds that they're supposed to say goodbye to him. Duck tells them that even though Chauncy was his, he's learned to live without him so they could have some consistency, but Patricia puts paid to any further discussion: "Frank's allergic." There's nothing for everyone to do but turn and stare at Chauncy, who untimely yet hilariously slobbers water all over at that moment. Duck, beaten, tells the kids that their mother will be back in half an hour, and leaves, possibly to drink something hot, like Irish coffee.
Freddy, Sal, Ken, Paul, and Peggy file into Don's office, and Don asks what Paul's doing there, as he's not on Playtex. Ken laughs that Paul wants to get credit for his idea, and Don asks, "You sure about that?" Heh. Paul's not his usual overly sensitive self, though, merely explaining that the boys all went out the other night after their last meeting, and he looked around the bar and realized that American women have a fantasy right here -- Jackie Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe. "Every single woman is one of them." He opens the door and starts pointing to the women around the office, labeling them each as a Jackie or a Marilyn. Don loves the idea, because there are few bigger fans of the Madonna/whore dichotomy than he, but Peggy pipes up that she doesn't think all women fit one of the two categories. "Maybe men see them that way." She's got a point, but it's coming from insecurity both about her own looks and the glass ceiling she keeps bumping her head against, the latter of which is underscored by her non-presence at the bar meeting, but the real tragedy is that no one even seems to consider any of this. Instead, Paul simply declares that women want to see themselves the way men see them, so Peggy elects to go down with the ship, asking which one she is. The boys, however, being the giant wusses they are, refuse to tell a woman to her face whether she's a Madonna or a whore, so they compromise, eventually coming up with Irene Dunne. Don then tells Peggy that she's going to have company on the campaign, and congratulates Paul on forcing his way onto this account. Paul beams, and Peggy glowers at him. She only has time to formulate the barest-bones plan of genocide, though, before Duck enters with Chauncy and apologizes for being late. He asks when he thinks he can bring in the Playtex people, and Don, in a much better mood than the last time the account was discussed, says that the day should be fine. Duck asks if he can "drop some crumbs," so Don tells him about the two sides of one woman idea. "Jackie by day, Marilyn by night." Which didn't sound to me exactly what Paul pitched, but I guess we needed a thematic reason for Peggy to dress in eveningwear at the end of the episode. Don hears me, saying that maybe it's two girls, and Duck thinks it sounds good, and then says that Jane tells him Don's free for lunch. Don acknowledges that, and dismisses his troops as Duck presumably goes to get rid of Chauncy. I'd suggest giving him to Ken -- it seems like they'd have the most in common.
Outside, Peggy catches Freddy and says she would have liked to know about the after-hours meeting, as now she's not even a part of the campaign. Freddy's dismissive (though not meanly) of her concerns, saying the work's already done, and she can just concentrate on the "titillating copy." You do your job and I'll do mine. He pats Peggy on the hip with a folder for good measure, and it's a testament to her self-control that he doesn't enter his office with one fewer arm than he left it.
Don appears at Duck's office and tells him he wasn't planning to come back after lunch, so he's wondering if they can chat now. Duck elects to keep the truth under the surface for the moment, half-joking that Roger told him it was just a friendly lunch, but Don's side-eye pretty much tells us all we need to know. Duck talks obliquely about his office and Don's secretary, taking the long way to get to the point, which is that it's been hard for him to figure SC out. Don thinks it's odd that he feels that way after eighteen months, missing the point that Duck, a divorced reformed alcoholic, is going to have a different perspective on things that just about anyone else, but then gets to the crux of his problem, which is that Duck has been pitching more to Don than he has to clients. In other words: You do your job and I'll do mine. Duck requires further explanation, though, so Don gives it to him: "You've been selling their ideas to me more than mine to them." Completely true, from what we've seen, but Duck is still more about speaking cryptically, as he tells Don about his time in the Marine Corps, and how he refused to let his squad leader help him out in a couple situations where he really needed it. "That's not the situation I want to be in here." Don prickles at the suggestion that Duck is covering for him, but Duck expresses his gratitude to Don for bringing him in in the first place before saying he did everything he could on American Airlines, and it was a risk worth taking. "People think of us differently." He adds that he's the scapegoat, and that the whole fiasco hasn't hurt the company, before asking if they can move on. Don, probably appreciative of the value of a good scapegoat in light of the conversation with the PR guy, responds, "Of course we can," and seems to mean it. He adds that he'll "tell Roger [they] had lunch," which Roger will no doubt understand to mean they kissed and made up, and then shakes hands with Duck and leaves. This is where a woman observing would roll her eyes about how silly men are, and she would be right to do so.
Bobbie's lying face down in bed with Don on top of her, in a dreamy state until she realizes that she has to get ready, as she's going to see her daughter, who's attending Sarah Lawrence, in a play. Don: "Daughter? Is that everyone?" Heh. He asks how much preparation she needs, but when she calls him a "lion" and tries to get him to admit they're forming an emotional bond, he of course pulls back. She reads him well enough, however, not to take that personally, instead inviting him to stay, and adding, in regard to the lion comment, "Believe me, I'm the same way. It has to come out somewhere." Don looks a little freaked out by this analysis of their affair, but then again, analysis of any kind can reliably make him squirm.
Peggy rounds a corner at SC to find a bevy of girls sitting outside the casting office, waiting to audition for the ads. She's of course peeved, as no one told her about it, and she feels that she has "an eye for this." Ken tells her he won't let Paul put anything together without her, and Peggy looks about as happy as you'd think she'd be at having her fate in Ken's hands.
Pete comes across Chauncy sitting in the main area: "Hey, girl!" Take two. Duck appears and lies that he made his wife give Chauncy back, as he missed him too much. "Dogs are better than wives. Never a problem communicating." Chauncy's like, "You should hear the bon mots your wife came up with at your expense over the last two years. No problem communicating that I could detect." Pete approves of having a dog at the office, as he thinks it makes them look more easygoing and friendly to clients. I've heard worse theories. Especially from Pete. He goes on that maybe he'll bring one in, but when Duck asks what breed he has, he clarifies that he doesn't -- he was going to get one for the office. Duck: "I don't think that's a good idea." So the man can make himself plain when he wants to. Duck heads for his office, so Pete takes off for the elevator...
...where he runs into a "Marilyn" who just apparently finished auditioning. Inside, he asks about the "bra-ditions," proving that silly portmaneaus long predate the internet, and proceeds to hit on her and give her his card. She's impressed by his Account Executive title, a sentiment that almost costs her her life when his instant boner almost impales her.
Atypically, we stay with the same pair after the commercial break, as Norma Jean Faux-erty has agreed to have Pete over for some adultery. What she didn't tell him, though, is that she lives with her mother, and when she goes to have a brief chat with her behind closed doors, I'll admit that I thought Pete would beat a hasty retreat, because as I mentioned earlier, familial thoughts and cheating usually don't mix. But since Pete's a completely different kind of sociopath than Don, one that's actually willing to own many of his sociopathic tendencies, he's unaffected by the revelation, and soon the girl, with a practiced air, has turned the TV up and the lights down and is getting down to business with Pete on the couch. Of course, the volume means Pete won't be able to hear her say arousing things like "Who's a big account executive," but that would probably about kill her mother anyway, so it's just as well.
Later, Pete arrives home stealthily. Without turning on a light, he looks in a mirror, and I'd love to know what's going through his mind if I weren't afraid it would render me unable to sleep at night.
In the morning, Sally is sitting at the table as Betty pours cereal for her. Don enters and notices Betty's new outfit -- a dark yellow two-piece bathing suit with a see-through shawl of the same color. She says she got it at the auction, presumably after he left, and he asks to speak with her in private. They step out of the kitchen, and he asks where she's going dressed like that and when she tells him she's going swimming, he lectures her about how everyone's going to be ogling her, and when she tries to explain that everyone bought one, he labels the outfit "desperate." In other words: "Despite your blonde hair, I have to think of you as a Jackie in order to rationalize my serial cheating, so please don't turn my world upside down by dressing like a Marilyn." Or, more succinctly: "Madonna, don't dress like a whore." This is not a week in which Betty is willing to take Don on, so she simply tells him, "I didn't know that," and this is enough for him to kiss her (on the forehead, just to underscore the non-sexual way in which he's thinking of her) and say he'll see her that night. When he leaves, she heartbreakingly pulls the shawl close around her, even though no one's there to see it. God, this show is so good, even when it makes me want to hit it.
Joan is making some tea in the break room when Peggy sails in on a head of steam and asks if she's aware that Peggy's on the Playtex account. Knowing from Peggy's agitated tone that she already has the upper hand here, Joan gives a noncommittal reply, so Peggy asks her to please instruct the girls that she's to be included on all relevant memos. Joan: "Sure! For a moment there I thought you were just another person coming to ask me about my brassiere." It's okay to love her again, right? Peggy then asks why she isn't on the list, and Joan tells her she doesn't know, and isn't involved in that. However, Peggy, unlike Betty, is ready for some truth, so she asks Joan why she's not invited to these after-hours business meetings. "I'm a good drinker." The price of Joan's advice, of course, is that she has to get in a dig about how she's never had Peggy's job, and she's never wanted it. "And honestly, you've never listened to a word I've said." Peggy doesn't deny this, which is enough for Joan to counsel her to learn to speak the boys' language. "You want to be taken seriously? Stop dressing like a little girl." Point made, Joan strides out, leaving Peggy to contemplate a shopping excursion.
Don gives the pitch to the Playtex people, and it's all stuff that's been explicitly said in this episode already, so let's skip to the part where he says the bra should be called the Harlequin, and should come in both black and white. He flips over the photo, and on the left side we have our Jackie, wearing the black against a white background while holding a teacup, and on the right is the Marilyn with the colors reversed, clutching a cocktail. It turns out they did end up going with the same model for both pictures, so I guess that means it's okay for women who are not his wife to fit into both boxes, as evidenced by the copy: "Nothing fits both sides of a woman better than Playtex." The Playtex guys' response is basically: "Great idea, but we were totally kidding about changing our strategy." I'd like to hear Roger's take on why. Don has no problem rolling with this punch, even managing to avoid being decapitated by Paul's lower lip, and he says they'll keep the campaign on file for them should they change their minds. Of course, it will probably lose a lot of its appeal in about three months, when Marilyn becomes less sexy and more, you know, dead. The room clears, and Duck mutters that it was a waste of time, as they made up their minds on the way over. Don intends for the détente to stick, though, as he assures Duck it wasn't his fault, and tells him that they at least bought a couple years worth of security...
Freddy to the Playtex execs: "If we were to take you to see some girls in their underwear, would you feel like you're at work?" Everyone guffaws, and, as Peggy appears within earshot, they make a plan. Hilariously, a total Marilyn walks up to Peggy right before she flounces away.
Duck and Chauncy go in to see some random guy, saying that they need artwork for the evening papers, and no one gave it to him. The guy goes rushing off to oblige, and when he's gone, Duck shuts the door and goes over to the bar, picking up a bottle with an "Oh, my nemesis, we meet again" look on his face. He's about to take a swig when he looks over at Chauncy and hesitates. At first I thought that concern for Chauncy's well-being stopped him, but given what's about to happen, it seems more likely that he realized he's got to purge the reminders of his old life if he wants to stay sober. Either way, it's made all the more sad and poignant by the fact that the Irish setter is a breed that thrives on love and attention more than just about any other, a touch you'd expect from the show, but also still appreciate. Duck leads Chauncy out...
...to the front door, where he removes his leash and puts him out on the street. Chauncy barks and wags his tail, but Duck marches away without looking back. It's too bad his squad leader isn't around, because Duck could really use a hug.
Don's with Bobbie again, and as he disrobes, she tells him that it's flattering to be able to keep him interested. He lets that one slide with only a mild admonition to stop talking, and they move to the bed, where he ties one of her wrists to the headboard. Bobbie, however, doesn't see the concrete wall she's speeding toward, and moans that she wants the full Don Draper treatment. "I wanted it, and I got it, and it's better than they said." This gets Don's attention, and she goes on that he's known as a connoisseur. "You have lots of fans." She doesn't know the half of it. Don wants to know who was talking about him, because that pushes his buttons even more than his wife showing skin, and Bobbie gives up the name of some woman at Random House. Don professes not to know who she's talking about, but Bobbie doesn't realize how important it is that she not lead this dance, instead breezing that he has a reputation, thinking he'll be flattered. For someone who was so interested in what he likes, she sure seems to be clueless as to what he doesn't. He pushes her down, and breathes, "Does it make you feel better to think that I'm like you?" She's a little confused, because they are alike in a lot of ways, but the difference is that he can't stand to hear that he's like anyone, because ultimately he doesn't believe he actually exists, just like Patrick Bateman. Don finishes tying Bobbie to the bed, but she still doesn't get it until he gets dressed, at which point she clues in that he's leaving. She asks what he's doing, and he replies, "I told you to stop talking." He does not add, "Now you think about that," because she really has no choice in the matter.
At the Tom Tom Club, the SC and Playtex men are enjoying what's on display when Peggy appears, hair down, made up, and wearing a cleavage-showing sleeveless blue dress. Paul and Freddy are warmly welcoming, as is the older Playtex guy, who spins her into his lap. Pete, however, gets a look even more sullen than Paul's at the earlier meeting, for which there are two obvious reasons: One, he doesn't want her upstaging him in the schmoozing department, given that that's the purview of Accounts people, and two, much more unconsciously, he doesn't want her being a Marilyn for anyone but him. Peggy looks slightly embarrassed in the face of Pete's staring, but, knowing her, it won't stop her from doing what she came to do.
Betty has just gotten out of bed and is putting on a robe over her already-conservative nightgown (nice touch, again) when the alarm goes off and Don wakes up. He coughs heavily, which could just be a touch of realism but would be interesting as a plot point, but for now he just heads into the bathroom...
...and shaves, clad only in a towel. Sally enters and sits on the closed toilet while greeting him brightly. He doesn't pay much attention until she chimes, "I'm not gonna talk. I don't want you to cut yourself." Given how deeply you just cut him, you might as well not worry about it. Don tries to go back to shaving, but, as we push in on the mirror's reflection, the revelation that he's visiting his twisted views of how women should behave on his own daughter becomes too much for even him to bear, and his stunned silence isn't lost even on little Sally, who asks if he's okay. He admits that he's not, and asks her to leave, a request with which she unhappily complies. When she's gone, he miserably takes her place on the toilet, and we see that women aren't the only ones with divided selves when we pull back to see him and his reflection, sitting side by side, before we go to closing credits. Phil Abraham, director of this episode, stand up and take a bow.
Betty has just gotten out of bed and is putting on a robe over her already-conservative nightgown (nice touch, again) when the alarm goes off and Don wakes up. He coughs heavily, which could just be a touch of realism but would be interesting as a plot point, but for now he just heads into the bathroom...
...and shaves, clad only in a towel. Sally enters and sits on the closed toilet while greeting him brightly. He doesn't pay much attention until she chimes, "I'm not gonna talk. I don't want you to cut yourself." Given how deeply you just cut him, you might as well not worry about it. Don tries to go back to shaving, but, as we push in on the mirror's reflection, the revelation that he's visiting his twisted views of how women should behave on his own daughter becomes too much for even him to bear, and his stunned silence isn't lost even on little Sally, who asks if he's okay. He admits that he's not, and asks her to leave, a request with which she unhappily complies. When she's gone, he miserably takes her place on the toilet, and we see that women aren't the only ones with divided selves when we pull back to see him and his reflection, sitting side by side, before we go to closing credits. Phil Abraham, director of this episode, stand up and take a bow.