THE nation is once again transfixed by “Mad Men,” by the pouring of cocktails in the office, by the lighting of cigarettes, by the extramarital carousing of elegantly dressed advertising executives in hats, and ah, the mixed feelings!

…

But is there also the tiniest bit of wistfulness, the slight but unmistakable hint of longing toward all that stylish chaos, all that selfish, retrograde abandon?

…

It is true that these days, people of Don Draper’s age and situation pour energy into beautiful vacations, or they cook intricate meals for a dinner party from organic or free-range ingredients. But are they hanging out with the same boozy fluidity, are there wild bursts of bad behavior, are they expecting each day to live up to the ineffable standard of “fun”? Perhaps part of what is so appealing, so fascinating about “Mad Men” is the refusal of bourgeois ordinariness, the struggle against it, in all of its poetic and mundane and tragic forms.

…

Don Draper, who suffers so attractively, quotes Frank O’Hara, “Now I am quietly waiting for/ the catastrophe of my personality/ to seem beautiful again.” And one wonders if perhaps there is an audience of successful, healthy couples in the new mode, sitting in their bedrooms with flat-screen TVs waiting for just that same thing.

…

Of course people still have hangovers and affairs, but what dominates the wholesome vista is a sense that everything we do should be productive, should be moving toward a sane and balanced end. The idea that you would do something just for the momentary blissful escape of it, for intensity, for strong feeling, is out of fashion.

…

“Mad Men” seems to be telling us the same thing, in its own stylish, made-for-television way: we are bequeathed on earth one very short life, and it might be good, one of these days, to make sure that we are living it.