Mad Men is a drama about 1960s ad world in New York City. It dives into lives of folks at Sterling Cooper agency. Changes in society and culture shape their stories. Characters are deep, plots are twisty and period details are spot on. If you love character-driven shows, this one is a must-see!

Meet the characters from Mad Men

Don Draper

Don is that impossibly cool blank-slate ad genius who somehow smells like Old Spice and regret, you know? He’s suave, utterly composed in a suit, but also living in this big quiet hurricane of secrets — like he’ll charm you and then vanish to stare at a cigarette butt for ten minutes. He hates being seen (sort of) but also loves the spotlight, which is hilarious and tragic at the same time — totally contradictory, obviously. There’s this knack for making a story feel true even if he’s lying through his teeth, and yes, he absolutely has a record collection he never mentions and maybe a tin of mints in his desk drawer.

Peggy Olson

Peggy is the scrappy, relentless rocket of the office who arrives with juice (and probably a pencil behind her ear), always typing faster than everyone else and thinking three moves ahead. She’s ambitious in a way that’s equal parts practical and fierce — tries to hide being sentimental but then cries over copy that actually works, don’t judge. She’s awkward socially sometimes (terrible at cocktail parties? maybe), but brilliant at making an idea land, and she surprises you with a stubborn loyalty nobody saw coming. Also I’m pretty sure she keeps a tiny notebook of insults and motivational quotes, which is adorable and terrifying.

Pete Campbell

Pete is the beautiful, entitled mess who treats ambition like perfume — way too much of it, but also somehow still underdressed for his own life. He’s endlessly jockeying for status, fragile as a glass paperweight underneath a crisp collar, always trying to fix his insecurity with charm or bravado. He does nasty things but sometimes you want to hug him? It’s complicated; he collects little victories like cufflinks and bruises, and has this weird, surprising capacity for panic at inopportune moments.

Betty Francis

Betty is icy and immaculate on the surface — perfectly coiffed, perfect house, and armed with a look that could stop conversation mid-sentence. Underneath there’s this restless sadness and a sharp, viperish wit that shows up when you least expect it; she’s polished but also volatile, like a glass figurine with a match. She loves gardening (or maybe hates it? she does flowers sometimes) and has a way of making ordinary rooms feel like courtrooms. Also she can be terrifyingly composed while doing something totally reckless, which is her secret thing.

Joan Harris

Joan is absolute executive presence — walks into a room and the entire place reorients itself around her, which is wild and deserved. She’s brilliant at reading people and playing the long game, practical and sensual and fiercely protective of her worth, even when the world tries to bargain it away. She can flip between dry, cutting humor and a soft, private tenderness in half a breath; one minute she’s laughing, the next she’s plotting your career. Fun random detail: she probably owns more pearls than there are plotlines in her life and keeps one stolen note in her purse like a talisman.

Ken Cosgrove

Ken is the sunny, unflappable writer/exec who writes stories and flights of fancy and also files expense reports? He’s the kind of guy who can pitch an ad and then casually mention he wrote a short story last night — calm, a little smug, but in an endearing way. He likes planes, maybe paints tiny seascapes, and is almost always the friendliest person in any room — irritating if you’re bitter, comforting if you’re tired. Occasionally he reveals a streak of competitiveness and you’re like, whoa, didn’t see that, but mostly he’s the steady, charming type who drinks with the crew and doesn’t start fights.

Harry Crane

Harry is the awkward TV-obsessed media guy who lurks on the cutting edge of trends and wears ties that fight back, honestly. He’s giddy about television like it’s religion and will push for anything with eyeballs and sponsors, which makes him both visionary and a little grubby in practice. Socially he’s a bit clumsy — says the wrong thing at the wrong time — but you can’t deny he’s good at sniffing out the next big thing, even if he brags about it loudly. Tiny detail: he hoards industry notes in a box labeled “treasure” that might also contain gum wrappers, and he insists it’s organized chaos.

Roger Sterling

Roger is a walking cocktail of charm, cynicism, and hair tonic — the silver-haired joker who’s always two drinks ahead and twice as cruel, in the best possible way. He can deliver the funniest line in the room and then make you feel like the only person who ever mattered, which is infuriating because it’s actually true sometimes. He’s decadent and nostalgic and also weirdly tender when the plot calls for it — a classic unreliable softie. Also he collects old ashtrays and names them, or maybe that’s something he told someone to seem eccentric; either way, he gives great advice and terrible love.

Sally Draper

Sally is the precocious, watchful kid who remembers everything and forgets nothing, which is equal parts spooky and adorable. She’s sharp as a tack, sometimes cruel in the way only kids can be, and also heartbreakingly lonely — that stare into the middle distance is iconic. She doodles in the margins and can be wildly imaginative one minute and suspiciously pragmatic the next; mood swings with a purpose. Little quirk: she might keep a secret stash of candy under a textbook, or maybe it’s a seashell collection, or both — she’s a small, complicated hurricane.