In an interview with The New York Times, January Jones still won’t reveal who the father of her baby is. She explains that every woman needs to have a little mystery. I don’t think that’s what Cosmo had in mind when they listed that as one of their 50 ways to seduce a man.
Anyway, the interview got off to a great start.
It isn’t easy to coax a smile out of January Jones. Perched on a velveteen banquette at the NoMad hotel in the Flatiron district recently, Ms. Jones didn’t engage in the dithery banter that in Hollywood passes for charm.
What she offered instead was a credible impersonation of Betty Draper Francis, the sweet and sullen character she plays in “Mad Men,” the role that has turned her into an emblem of glamour as wintry as her name.
Did the NYT just call her an Ice Queen? I think they did. In fact, the next few paragraphs are all about how everyone sees her as cold and frigid. Naturally, they tried to sneak in a question about her baby’s daddy.
Unlike Betty, Ms. Jones, has demonstrated a fierce independence, as single mother to Xander, her 20-month-old son, whose father she has steadfastly refused to name. Was it the actor Michael Fassbender, as has been speculated? Or is it Mr. Vaughn?
“That’s my son’s business,” she said. “It’s not the public’s business.”
Damn, shot down. Well, what if we gently push a little more like poking a sleeping bear.
Fans might relate better to her if she did discuss her private life, but the prospect seems not to interest her. “Jack Nicholson once told me: ‘You should never give your personal life away, otherwise people will pick you apart. They’ll never believe in your character.’ ”
Nope. Didn’t work. Oh well. She then explained that women should have secrets.
While consistently guarded, Ms. Jones can be self-mocking. “Women should have lots of secrets,” she said, a rare gleam of mischief in her eye. “It’s our right to have secrets. Otherwise, what would we write in our memoirs?”
Wait, so we have to wait another 15 years to find out who she had sex with? Gosh, that’s a long wait. Where’s Maury Povich when you need him?