Mad Women: The Other Side of Life on Madison Avenue in the '60s and Beyond
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Fans of the show Mad Men are dying to know how accurate it is. Was there really that much sex at the office? Were there really three-martini lunches? Were women really second-class citizens? Jane Maas says the answer to all three questions is unequivocally "yes." Her book Mad Women, based on her own experiences and countless interviews with her peers, is a fascinating tell-all account of life as an ad woman in the male jungle of Madison Avenue.
In three days, I was assigned to a new group, on a different floor. My old boss and I would see each other perhaps once a year at the annual Ogilvy officers’ outing. He would always raise a glass to me from across the room, and I would always toast him back. I’m sorry it had to end that way. He taught me how to write advertising. CHAPTER 3 “Get the Money Before They Screw You” When Shirley Polykoff wrote the famous advertising slogan “Does she … or doesn’t she?” for Clairol in 1956, only
We were allowed to entertain gentleman callers in just one area, Hunt Hall living room, a vast, chilly, formal Victorian cavern of a place. There, the “three feet on the floor” rule was strictly enforced. Out of any respective couple’s four feet, three had to be firmly planted on the floor at all times. The housemothers went around and checked. Jane and fellow Bucknellian Philip Roth star in the 1952 university production of Jean Giraudoux’s The Madwoman of Chaillot. The most exciting
the Charmin toilet paper, even though it was “irresistibly soft.” But he never could resist squeezing it himself. Mr. Whipple squeezed Charmin for twenty-five years, and during that entire time it was the most detested and most successful advertising on television. Consumers loathed it because it banged away at them like the Anacin hammers, but they remembered the message and bought the product anyway. The creative people at Benton & Bowles, the Charmin agency, grew heartily sick of the
ad written by Gene Grayson, then a copywriter at Ted Bates, and called his office. Grayson answered. “This is David Ogilvy,” Ogilvy announced. “And this is Abraham Lincoln,” Grayson said, and hung up. Ogilvy called back. Grayson went to work for Ogilvy & Mather, stayed for many years, and laid the creative foundations that made Dove the world’s bestselling soap. David also persuaded George Lois, a young art director at DDB, to come in for an interview. Lois was turning out ads that shattered
maddening, magical state. The Republicans think the Democrats are using “I Love New York” for their own ends? Jane better go to Albany. Again? Yes, again. But back to the birth of the campaign. “Ford to New York: ‘DROP DEAD.’” That was the headline in the Daily News in late 1975 when both the state and the city were nearly bankrupt and turned to the federal government for help. President Jerry Ford flatly refused. A lot of smart people put their heads together, including newly elected governor