Ariadne Winter is far too busy clawing her way up the journalism ladder to fuss over perfect meringues. Ambitious, driven, and unapologetically career-minded, she has little patience for the domestic ideals so carefully prescribed for women of the 1950s. Fortunately, she isn’t married—yet. In her world, middle-class wives are expected to surrender their professions for aprons and routines, trading ambition for spotless kitchens and well-fed husbands. Should Ariadne ever yield to the life her mother envisions, she might at least find some consolation in the gleaming promise of modern appliances—those marvels of convenience designed to make domesticity seem less like confinement and more like progress.
