My Recent History, Portrayed as Music

by Jillian Butler, Ampersandology


What's happening in my corner of the world? Besides the obvious, I mean. Allow me the following indulgence. I WILL SHOW YOU IN SONG! 


New Projects and Preoccupations
As portrayed by Belle & Sebastian's "Wrapped Up in Books" 





What with school and words and the company I keep, this song is basically the anthem of the last six months of my life. Without the guy on the keyboard. And with considerably more berets. 


This is the portion of the self-indulgent post when I look longingly at my bookshelf, now offensively stuffed with titles; at this point, my apartment is basically the opposite of Ellis Island in the 1890s. There's no room for you, little immigrant books. And yet, instead of turning them away, I just push them against the wall and, with a sticky note, assign them a title that better suits my whims. Huh. Actually, that sounds a lot like Ellis Island. 


I, as usual, digress. In other news, Belle & Sebastian is the love that never ends in my heart. I first saw them in Glasgow. When I missed them here last month, my heart turned the color of sorrow that no detergent can remove. Every Belle & Sebastian song takes place either in: 


a) a bookstore
b) a bridge
c) the past


Because these places have a generic importance to me, I think they should in fact add me to their band. I can play the tambourine, and have sort of learned the ukelele. In addition, I have an excellent knack for earnestness when I'm permitted to channel it ironically. And remember before, when I mentioned berets? I really wasn't kidding. I have two. I'm so committed to this aesthetic it hurts. 


So in a nutshell, I'm working on a bunch of new project,s but I'm a miser of information and keep it hush-hush. Sometimes my mind thinks it's Soviet Russia and everyone else is the American people and what's at stake is the Iron Curtain. Hint: the metaphor only works if you accept it at face value. Moving on. 


A Musing on My Use of Public Transportation
As portrayed by Pulp's "Common People"



So I usually hum this to myself when I'm on the bus. Yeah. I've been driving since I was still jailbait, so my newfound dependence on public transportation is like an eye-opening montage. It keeps feeling like a lingering anthropological experiment--I see and learn so much about like, humanity and stuff. Did you know people think that trimming their fingernails on the bus is not only a time-saver, but also super pleasant to those around them? I did not until recently. 


I keep wondering if it's really offensive that this song keeps inserting into my iPod's shuffle. Then I decide that who cares, Pulp is awesome. First World Problem, 0. My sense of worth, FIVE TRILLION. Entitlement level unlocked! 


In all seriousness, travel of any kind always soothes me, and moreso in the last six months when I've become so dependent on it. There's a comfort in physically moving your person from Place Here to Place Else. No matter where you go, there you are. Plus, when you're not driving, yo, you can read. Is this situation made of win? I think I just answered my own question. (ps. THE ANSWER IS WIN)


My Super-Sneaky Shoutout
As portrayed by The National's "England" 





Wouldn't you like to know. 

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FUN ADDITIONAL FACT! If I woke up trapped in the video of Pulp's This is Hardcore on an endless loop for the rest of my natural existence, like you know in Groundhog Day, when Bill Murray keeps waking up in the same day, and eventually learns the secrets of the townspeople and robs banks and--well, anyway, if I was stuck in this video, that would be great. That would be the existential crisis to beat. 



The first time my brother saw this video, he was silent for a long time; then he said, in a quiet somber voice, "Now I finally understand. This is the language you speak, the shapes you see. This is the battery from which your brain saps its momentum. Now, finally, I can warn the others." 


I'm paraphrasing, of course, but you get the idea. 

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Gone With the Awesome

by Jillian Butler, Ampersandology

On the day the word "outstanding" was redefined, I simply stood in awe and watched. 





Like...okay. 


This is awesome. Today is a day I love people, espeically people who make fan vids of old 1930s epics with crappy pop songs. 


Intellectually, I know there are several things wrong with this video. One, Avril Lavinge. Two, Scarlet's inability to build a bridge and get over that foppish whelp Ashley Wilkes already. Three, not nearly enough Rhett. Four, Scarlet's such a fierce bitch, why does she even LIKE Ashley? Five, Rhett. Six, like seriously O'Hara, he's a hardcore ginger! And not the good kind. 


But intellectually don't get you squat diddly in the proud hall of the Pop Culture Unfortunates. For the record, Melanie Hamilton is like so whatever. What a do-gooder wet blanket. Stop wearing your hair like a helmet, Melanie. And stop marrying your cousin. 


My enjoyment of this wondrous video very much like my love of Gone for the Wind itself. Basically, my head says, "ooooh problematic romanticism of race and class!" and my heart* is all "wheeeeeeeeee curtain dresses and really big hats!" If it's on, I will stop everything and watch it, despite that I would put the gross estimate of my viewings thus far at ABOUT FORTY TIMES. For kicks, I quote obscure lines from this movie TO MYSELF constantly, despite the fact no one on earth (except maybe Spike Lee) will understand. What? I don't have a TV, okay? 


Look, I'm not saying two wrongs make a right. I'm just saying you're going to have to forcibly remove the part of my brain that loves everything about this crazy racist movie. 


The only thing I enjoy more than the above video is perhaps the suggestion that my beloved Tallulah Bankhead was considered for the role of Scarlett O'Hara:  





Then again, it seems every actress working in Hollywood at the time was considered during "The Search for Scarlett"--a very clever marketing gimmick for the studio to build excitement about a movie that wouldn't be made for years (and was plagued by trouble when it was). In truth, there were only three or four actresses that were ever seriously considered, but, the mythology surrounding the search is more than tempting--a cross-nation search with the old-fashioned grandeur of the 42nd Street Moment. How funny then, that the part went to a British actress. Still, Bankhead would have been INCREDIBLE as Scarlett. Absolutely wrong for the part, but INCREDIBLE. Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

Oh no. I just found the Lady Gaga remixes. There's no turning back now. 

*or the angry fist where my heart should be. Wevs!


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A Boy and his Ursine: Fictional Bears Throughout Culture

by Jillian Butler, Ampersandology

This post is dedicated to my friend Adam, whose love of bears and bears-related topics inspires me almost every day (...that he mentions this passion). 

While I never forgot that Lord Byron owned a pet bear, I did forget the reason he got it. 


It was because Cambridge wouldn't let him get a dog. Badass. He later suggested that the bear apply for a college fellowship. Badass. His ultimate goal was to make the bear his best friend. MOST BADASS OF ALL. 

Loose interpretation of the event. 

I wish Childe Harold's Pilgrimage had been about Byron and his bear roaming the English countryside and solving mysteries.  Not only would that make a much better poem, it has serious sitcom potential: like The Odd Couple, but with BEARS! 


Bears represent so much more than the last thing you'd want to meet in the woods. Especially in children's literature and film, bears become a great example of the place in the imagination where fear meets anthropomorphism: look no farther than the high quantities of "friendly" bears to tell us how much we like to paint the scary corners of our fears in bright colorful polka dots. 


Indulge me, if you will, to take a look back through the greatest bears of pop culture history. 

Baloo (The Jungle Book)

Troubling racial messages aside, Disney's The Jungle Book features one hep cat in the form of Baloo the bear. He sings, he dances, and BOY. Does he love honey. Some of the most bizarre imagery of my youth came from watching Baloo eat a mouthful of bees. Is honey delicious enough to warrant a tongue full of bee stings? The question haunted me so I didn't put on my food until age 17. Regardless, this laissez-faire attitude is what puts Baloo on this list: the "Bare Necessities" is less a runaway pop hit and more an anthem of a strangely-spartan hedonism.





In the original Kipling work, Baloo was basically the exact opposite of his screen portrayal. He was stern, and often used beatings and other punishment methods to get through Mowgli's thick human head. That backwards stiff has no business on this list. One stiff and disciplined, the other carefree and hip. Makes you think of the Wakefield twins, really. 

Paddington Bear

Let me tell you, it is HARD to pull off red and blue without looking like the political split down American soil. Paddington Bear does that and then some, managing to get himself adopted by humans and conforming to a charming British befuddlement. 

Smokey the Bear 

Did you YOU leave fire unattended in the forest? Yeah, I didn't think so. I sure didn't. Mostly because I don't ever go in the forest, but ALSO because of Smokey's simple, elegant threat against my well-being.

Fozzy Bear (The Muppet Show)

A beloved fixture from my youth, I still can't pinpoint why Fozzy Bear is so charming. Is it his fuzzy, over-sized digits? Perhaps it's his little cravat, making him both clownish and fancy in one fell swoop? Personally, I think it was the deep level of pathos he carried with every lame duck of a joke; he's a clown who's not funny, giving whatever laughter he earns the slight tinge of sadness. He's that one uncle who thinks you'll still laugh at the same joke you liked when you were two. Those guys are hard to shake. I know what a cow sounds like, Uncle Geoff. I'm 25. God.  

Sleeping Bear (Legends of the Fall)

Skip ahead to 1:20 to see the only bear that has EVER bested Brad Pitt. 

Bear Grylls

Convince me this man is real. You can't. I saw him use his own bloody fist as bait! BAIT! There is so much wrong with that sentence that it doubles back into right. Though I know at least one person that would disagree with me, Bear Grylls impresses me in the same moment I reach the dictionary to look up the definition of Batshit Crazy (verb, meaning to be foolish or impractical to the point of insanity; intensely involved with LAUGHING AT THE LIMITS OF THE HUMAN BODY). His mother was probably Hera or something, which makes him a demi-god, not a television host. Nice try, Discovery Channel, but you can't fool me twice! 

Wojtek the Bear 

Orphaned as a cub, this real-life bear was adopted by the Polish army and trained to transport ammunition, in addition to eating cigarettes, drinking beer, and --reportedly-- interrogating Nazis. Let me repeat that--this bear supposedly sat himself down across from Nazi spies and asked, "WHAT'S UP, BADDIE?" in Bear. To be fair, it's the move of a brilliant tactician--what wouldn't you tell a bear who's demanding a full confession? What a way to serve your country; did you hear that, Von Trapp family singers? Do re methinks you've been served. 

*

Got a favorite bear? Leave it. 

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Male Dopplegangers & Gender Bending Party Games

by Jillian Leigh, Ampersandology


For anyone who caught Conan O'Brien's last show this past Friday, you'll obviously know that the highlight was clearly the moment when Conan proposed that HBO make a movie about the whole debacle, and that he be played by Tilda Swinton. 

Now here is a true fact: I dig Tilda Swinton. She is a kooky bird! She makes bold choices in her career and admittedly odd ones in her personal life. But she rocks it! And Tilda, deciding that it wasn't enough to just have me admire her, has now set about earning my unfailing devotion by being ultra-boss. From Movieline: 

“I’ve heard about Conan!...I’m so thrilled.”

So would she be willing to take on the challenge of playing him? After all, Swinton has bent genders onscreen before, as anyone who’s seen her 1992 film Orlando would know.

“I would just be only too happy,” she beamed. “Yes, yes, yes, absolutely.”

Then, pondering the offer, she decided to return the favor and solicit from O’Brien. “What I really would love to do is get him to do some of the things I get to do. It would be nice if he were here at Sundance maybe, wearing this coat, talking about I Am Love.”

It might seem like a tall order for O’Brien, but he certainly has several months of unemployment to pull off such a switch. “And why not?” Swinton said. “Every girl should have a doppleganger.”

She's right, you know. Every girl should have a doppleganger, I firmly believe that. Mine is Jason Schwartzman. 

Anyone who reads this blog who knows me personally just went, "Ooooooh, yeah, he totally is her doppleganger." You know why? Because Jay-Schwartz and I rock the same sensibility; it's hard to explain, but it's there. In truth, he's not my doppleganger in the sense that we look anything alike. But trust me: our souls are the same flavour--too cool for school-berry. 

I feel like if we met on the street, we'd have all the same things in common and then suddenly realizing that we are each other's Platonic ideal....then, in my head, we start singing that most excellent song from The Parent Trap while the world slowly eats itself whole from some metafictional kind of mindblown-ness. 

Let me tell you, THAT is a fun party game: if you were an opposite sex celebrity, who would you be? Think about it. Get back to me. 

Neutraface.

by Jillian Leigh, Ampersandology





Good news, amazing people in this video: any one of you now have permission to court me. I'm not saying you're going to get anywhere, but the permission is really half the battle. Some people wait years for my half-hearted, "Okay, fine then. Just don't embarrass me." True story. 


Oh, who am I kidding. You all have beards and are wearing anachronistic neckties. You couldn't be more my type if you started quoting Henry Miller while discussing how Stanley Kubrick is both overrated and unsung. 

Trailers can be re-cut, so trailers can LIE.

by Jillian Leigh, Ampersandology


Looking up fake trailers on YouTube is a worthwhile pastime fun, but it sure can eat up your time! In the interest of the public good, I smoked out the creme of the crop. But less for the "public good" and more more because I didn't want to go all Sophie's Choice and pick my favorite. 


Here's the only thing I want you to take away from this: CONTEXT IS EVERYTHING. 








Full disclosure: I have already watched the following trailer five times today, and have no plans to abandon what I see as a worthy pursuit. In addition: PRINCIPAL FIREBUSH.






Man, would I ever watch 10 Things I Hate About Commandments.  Also: Yul Brynner can put the i in my king anytime.

Wait. That came out wrong. OR DID IT?

Oh whatever. He's outstanding, you see, is the real thesis of my thinking here. I had more puns but then I got discouraged.

Imitation = Flattery

by Jillian Leigh, Ampersandology





I thought my impressions were pretty good, but hey. I know when to bow to the Master. His Katherine Hepburn makes me die: "He writes letters and just goes on and on about himself and I just say, 'Good for you.' "





Also, this was the moment I realized I was in love with Matt Damon.

Being Shallow = Fun.

Pajiba's 10 Most Bangable Celebrities, 2009 edition. A holy rite, and sacred passage. These ain't your mama's celebrities. These are the geek celebrities, the smarty pants lusties, the thinking man's crush. That said, let's break it down.

10. Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Yeah. Sure. I still him remember him from 3rd Rock, so it's a little skeevy, but he'd treat me nice. So sure.

9. Zooey Deschanel. Absolutely. I think we're the same size, so maybe after we could swap clothes and go shopping. And compliment each other's side bang! Oh, that sounds like such fun.

8. Paul Rudd. Funny, cute and deadpan? Sign me up.

7. Rosario Dawson. Eh. Though she did make out with Clive Owen, so I'd only be like, one degree away from him then. Those are odds I like!

6. Christian Bale. Not my cup of tea. I fear he'd beat me up, and not in the sexy way.

5. Christina Hendricks. Oh hells yeah. ever since her days on Firefly, I have always maintained she has the most luscious natural breasts I'd ever seen on a skinny girl.

4. Ryan Reynolds. MINE. Everyone else, hands off. Step off, bitches. THINE HANDS BE ELSEWHERE. I SEE YOU, EMILY. I told you explicitly: NO TOUCHY.

3. Kristen Bell. Eh, less so. She's cute, for sure, and I do envy her bodacious side bang, but...I don't know. There's a but.

2. Robert Downey Jr. Mother, may I! ...no, seriously mom, can I? Would that be a mistake? I know what you always said about artists....but then again, my romantic track record makes it very clear I blatantly ignored your advice. So, I guess we have to agree to disagree. Trust me, everyone will be happier this way.

Especially me.

Because hello? Robert Downey Jr.

LAWYERED.

1. Nathan Fillion. Okay. While objectively, I understand, there's a part of me that just cannot get on board. He's like...5% too beefcake for me. I mean, I wouldn't say no, exactly. But it might be a begrudging yes.

I miss last year, when Tina Fey made the list. Good times.

Happy birthday, Nikola Tesla, oh rotater of magnetic fields and dreamer of things yet to be! 153 years young today!

Here's to being really, really, ridiculously good-looking.

The greatest landing page in the history of landing pages: Designer Slash Model. 

HAHAHAHAHA! I can't orient myself or try to understand its purpose because I am too busy finding it hilarious! Just when you think it has probably gotten less funny, you find yourself mistaken! Too cool for school hipster designers FINALLY admitting to the world that (quote) "you must be beautiful to make beautiful things"? My life has been a dream until this moment; to wit, I just WOKE UP.  I want that t-shirt. I want all the t-shirts. 

I just...I can't speak, because of the wretched desire that has overcome my soul. WHY AM I NOT ALREADY A DESIGNER SLASH MODEL? The absence of the slash from my decorative job title leaves me cold, bereft and shivering in the orphaned night. New life's ambition: to become a Designer//Slash//Model, and prove more ultra-mod than any of these mondo-yawn amateurs could ever be. 

In other news, Happy belated World Graphic Design Day, everyone! A day that graphic designers everywhere hope will promote "greater understanding between people and can help to build bridges where divides and inequities exist." Also, that normal people everywhere will wake up wanting to wear skinny jeans and a distressed faux-vintage rock tee to work, where they will argue about point size for headings all day. Because why not, you know? 

In conclusion: Pretty pictures are like a band-aid for the soul. 

Prepare to be Adorablfied.

A lone NYU student designed a little robot, called a TweenBot, to troll the pavement of New York City in search of a single destination. This robot could only travel forward, and had no other navigational systems on board that could help it traversethe perilous, cracked walkways of New York City. In other words, it had to rely on the kindness of human strangers, commencing what I like to call...

The Most Adorable Social Experiment Ever. 

Like the article says, you'd expect a little robot, no matter how precious, to roll through the streets of New York at its own risk. Think of all the Sharpie markers, hot coffee and heels that little guy will encounter in the run of a day! I shudder to think. But instead of being kicked, sabotaged, defaced or otherwise harmed, this robot was adopted by the secretly nicest city in the world!! 

Watch the accomplying video and feel your heart grow three sizes (which, coincidencely, put me at a size two heart--we're out of the negatives, guys!) as pedestrians take a moment out of their busy, importnant lives to help a little cardboard robot make it over a crack in the pavement. IN FACT!:

Often, people would ignore the instructions to aim the Tweenbot in the “right” direction, if that direction meant sending the robot into a perilous situation. One man turned the robot back in the direction from which it had just come, saying out loud to the Tweenbot, "You can’t go that way, it’s toward the road.”

THAT MAN IS A HERO. A HERO WHO TALKS TO WEE LITTLE ROBOTS WITH THE WISDOM OF A GRANDFATHER. Seriously. If you're having a bad day, or you're a little angry at the world, I dare you to look TweenBot in the eyes, tell it that you hate it, and refuse to help. You will FAIL in this pursuit. The TweenBots' journey is supposedly meant to symbolize something greater than its tiny, adorable parts, and basically be a PERFECT METAPHOR FOR THE HUMAN CONDITION.: 

The journey the Tweenbots take each time they are released in the city becomes a story of people's willingness to engage with a creature that mirrors human characteristics of vulnerability, of being lost, and of having intention without the means of achieving its goal alone.

In other words, while that spin is all well and good, let's face it: we're not coming back to read about more conjecture about the metaphysical ancestry between man and machine. We're all coming back to see more adorable paper robot hijinks, hopefully next time with a little insect sidekick! OMG! YES!

Countless sci-fi novels, action films and anedoctal evidence from Morgan Freeman have tried to convince us that our reliance on technology will lead to our doom. But the most adorable social experiment ever has proven that someday, robots and humans may well live in precocious unity. 

 

BREAKING NEWS.

THE HIPSTERS HAVE TAKEN OVER SESAME STREET . 

I knew they were all about discovering unknown neighbourhoods to gentrify, but this is ridiculous. Never have the words, "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street" sounded so sinister...now that they're followed by, "I hear there's a great used vinyl store on the corner."

Citizen Kane posted an event...and nobody came.

Why do I get the terrifying feeling that if Citizen Kane was remade today, the bulk of the investigation into the life of Charles Foster Kane would take place...online? 

I mean, obviously, Citizen Kane will never be remade. It can't exist outside of its perfectly preserved bubble of time. Also, I'm pretty certain that Orson would literally overcome death to make sure that never happens...or at least, to get first crack at the director's chair. 

But I get scary close to visualing it...Charles leaves an omnious status update on Facebook in his last moments: '...rosebud...' With the help of the servants, the faceless reporter (played by Shia LeBeouf) hacks into his account and discovers the dark truth. The interviews with those who knew Charles best are, naturally, conducted on MSN. 

The entire plot could honestly condensed into the Facebook universe: 

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Charles Foster Kane left the group Opera Lovers of New York. 

Charles Foster joined the group Opera Lovers of New York. 

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Emily Monroe Kane left the group C.F. Kane for Governor. 

* 

Susan Alexander and Charles Foster Kane are now in a relationship. 

Susan went from "in a relationship' to "it's complicated." 

Susan is now listed as "single."

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Jed Leland left the network The Chicago Inquirer. 

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Charles Foster Kane became a fan of Being Alone. 

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And if Google enters the picture, I'm afraid all bets are off. 

Know your Ascenders!

And now...the subliminal messages your font choice sends (courtesy of Typocalypse, a Flickr set made by the guy whose parents knew he'd turn out to be either an evilgenius or some kind of font savant and named him accordingly: Lars Willem Veldkampf. I yearn to know more about this man: What is his story? What is he like? If I say his name three times, and my aim is true, will he appear and take me away to another time, another place? IS HIS HEART WHERE ALL THE FONTS LIVE?).

Ahem. I digress! 

Haha! Fair. See, it's funny because it's mostly true, AND it's kind of mean AND it only sort of applies to me. ONE TIME does not a Jenson user make. Plus, I'm pretty sure that one time? It wasn't even my idea. 

That is so deep. And here I thought Futura was just sent back to us from the ultra-mod future to mock us for our unfortunate dependance on serifs. Nope. Turns out, it was to spout confusing pop-poetry and speak for the airlines. 

Boy, this Lars guy sure is hitting them where they live, ho ho! I wonder what he says about my favorite...WHAT! NOOOOO! 

HEY. Too far, Lars Willem Veldkampf, TOO FAR. You've made a powerful enemy in me today.  I will not forgive this slight so easily. Good day sir...I SAID GOOD DAY. 

What? I take my fonts pretty seriously. Some may say "too" seriously. I would not call them wrong. This must be how Ren felt when he had to face Rev. Shaw and the whole town council to prove why dancing wasn't a sin. He was up against incredible odds...just like me and Garamond, and the hardships we face every day. Wow. I'm never gonna watch that movie the same way again! 

Typocalypse. Go there. Feel judged. You're part of something wonderful. 

Why I Find Don Draper So Attractive: A Helpful Diagram

1. The Words

This mouth is clever, talented and deceitful, and to paraphrase Jack Donaghy, I just want to kiss him on the mouth to stop him from saying such ridiculous things. Don’s a man of words, not action. He gives voice to the big ideas he’ll never follow through. His mouth is also home to such memorable Draperisms as:

 “Mourning is just extended self-pity. In New Guinea, pygmies grind up their ancestors and drink the powder in a beer.” (I like to think he researches these facts and waits patiently for a chance to use it in conversation)

“Every day I make pictures where people appear to be in love. I know what it looks like.”

“People were buying cigarettes before Freud was born.” 

 And of course: “What you call love was invented by guys like me to sell nylons.”

  To be honest, I’m pretty sure I’d be okay with whatever lies Don chose to tell me because, well, he’d phrase it so pretty. That would be totally okay with me. Keep in mind, though: I'm shallow.

 

2. The Necktie.

The tie is key—it’s perfect for fixing affectionately, tugging instructively, or straightening after he’s kissed you roughly in the stairwell. In other words, it gives me terrible, unprintable ideas.

 3. The Hair

God, this hair: it’s like a time capsule in itself. Brylcreem should pay him a commission, he does so much to promote this look. It’s just another piece of Don’s considerable armor, but it only makes me wonder what it would take to mess up. No, not wonder: actively plan.

 

4. Note! 

The placement of a desperate and angry fist where his heart should be.

 

5. His Bearing

His every move is so calculated and precise, it’s like watching a granite statue. He understands the ingredients in human behavior, and tries his best to imitate it—but considering that every man he knows either hates him passionately or is stuck in hero-worship, he can’t ever fit comfortably anywhere. In his quest to become Don Draper, it’s like he overdid it out of gate, becoming an uber-mensch that actually bears no resemblance to a real man.

 Let me reiterate: granite statue. Yay!

 

6. The Vice Squad: Smoking and Drinking

In my mind, Don is most at home inside a haze of cigarette smoke and the stale smell of uncapped whiskey. I like to think Don smokes (and drinks) partly because it gives him something to do when he’s actually doing nothing: a man as perfunctorily focused on production as he is would hate being accused of doing nothing. Either way, he looks so criminally good doing it that I kind of want to give him a medal for it. It will say Congratulations! Cancer hates you.

 

7. The Cuffs

The perfect punctuation to being a relentless bad-ass: just smile, straighten your cuffs, and punch the joker in the mouth. Not so har-de-har now, is it, funny man?!? There could be a spin-off show where Don just punches people, smokes and takes women roughly in the hallway. I will finance this project.

 

8. Pocket Full of Scribble

Most of his brilliant ideas end up scribbled on whatever’s handy---which, factoring in his daily activities, is usually a cocktail napkin or matchbook--and he keeps them all. I imagine it as the one thing he childishly collects, squirreling them into the corners of his desk drawers or jacket pockets. So endearing! He’s secretly a loser.

  

9. The Grey Flannel Suit

I don’t think it’s a mistake that Don’s de facto uniform is the eponymous grey flannel suit of pop-lit fame. Don IS the man in the grey flannel suit, and as such, his clothing is sort of invisible, always some variation on his usual jacket + skinny tie = hotness. Seeing him out of it is always a visible shock: usually, it ends with my jaw on the floor. Dear God, it’s hard to imagine he wasn’t born in those high-waisted trousers….but oh so fun to try.