Mad Men is about a lot of things—identity, greed, the American mythos—but for the past two and a half seasons it has been the story of a fantastic apartment on Park Avenue just getting sadder and sadder. In last night's episode, the first (or eighth, depending on how we're counting) of the final season, the apartment has sunk to a new low, taking on a sort of rusty grayish pallor as Don can barely even bring himself to turn the lights on or open the blinds. Also, somebody (no spoilers) spills wine on the carpet and no one cleans it up. And that blanket is probably ruined, too. This show really tugs at the heartstrings.
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