The Looks of Men:
Doubling and Nostalgia in Mad Men
Back during the presidential primary season, when the field was still open
and the party debates still included half a dozen or more contenders to the
nomination, I was sitting on my couch and watching CNN. The discussion
turned to the questions of which of these candidates seemed more authentic to
the general public, implying that authenticity was a measure of comfort and that
this comfort could, in part, clinch the nomination. While listening, I reached
toward the giant bag of tortilla chips in which I was participating and found,
emblazoned across the top, the claim “Authentic Mexican Taste.” At that
moment I came to directly encounter the old post-colonial claim that
authenticity refers not to some intrinsic characteristic of an object or product
(chips or candidate), but to some extrinsic value against which the object is
judged. And that value is, of course, for the most part illusory, since the bag of
chips didn’t say which authentic region of Mexico the taste replicated. I was
certain, though, that I’d never been there.
My experience of Mad Men is much the same. The first season takes place
in 1960 and I’m not old enough to remember that year. And even if I were, my
people never, ever made it to Madison Avenue. Or even New York City. Wh ]B