Captivated by Calvin

The cultural power of the Calvin Klein advert

It is 1 am. For what feels like the eighth time, my eyes are glued to the screen of my iPhone as I swipe mindlessly to rewatch Jeremy Allen White’s Calvin Klein advert. As the catchy background jingle echoes around the living room, I watch Jeremy do pull-ups. It’s hard to look away. I’m basically hypnotised. Transfixed by the movement of his glorious tricep, I wonder: what is it about a man running about topless on a New York City rooftop that we just can’t get enough of? As the actor unwinds atop the cushions of a delightfully orange velvet sofa (how it got there, we may never know), I contemplate a variety of explanations.

The appreciation of beauty is innate to most of us — call it human instinct, even. It is perhaps one of our favourite activities. We never fail to point out the sky breaking open to reveal a beautiful sunset, we go to museums and galleries to goggle at the Mona Lisa and the like (even when they are often complete enigmas to us), and we often catch ourselves staring at attractive people on the street for just ever so slightly too long. Calvin Klein adverts are, conceivably, more of the same. Sex appeal has been used for decades to garner attention, and Calvin Klein specifically is well known for their boundary-pushing eroticised adverts. They are essentially connoisseurs of sexual magnetism. But is mere admiration of the human form really all that motivates us to ogle at models in their Calvin Klein undergarments? 

On a slightly darker note, one could also argue with some reasonable justification that this activity is, to put it simply, a little creepy. It has become so ingrained in our culture to see celebrities undress and be undressed — whether in movies, music videos, or, in the case of Calvin Klein, in adverts, that we have simply gotten used to it. Now that it is the cultural norm, it becomes obvious that we enjoy it to some extent. I think in some way we like to play the part of a voyeur. Celebrities, with their impossibly long, sculpted limbs and delicately tousled hair, are, more often than not, desperately beyond our reach. Advertisements are so magnetising to us because they allow us to fantasise from a safe distance. Through the medium of a magazine page, or brightly lit billboard, we can enjoy our favourite pastime of gazing without all of the nerve-wracking and slightly embarrassing hysteria that most of us would experience if confronted with any of the big names featured in Calvin Klein’s adverts. 

Nonetheless, there is still something slightly alarming about adverts like this. The double standards present in the marketing industry became very apparent when FKA twigs, a British singer-songwriter, modelled for Calvin Klein and did not receive the same positive attention as Allen White did. Her advert was banned by the Advertising Standards Authority, with the regulator ruling that the “image’s composition placed viewers’ focus on the model’s body rather than on the clothing being advertised,” according to the BBC. FKA twigs herself responded in disagreement on her Instagram, noting that she felt empowered in that she could “harness a unique embodied sensuality.” The Calvin Klein adverts featuring men were not scrutinised in the same way, highlighting that the sexuality and exposed bodies of women are still veiled with stigma and tabooism in a way that men’s are not. 

London-based creative agency founder Sir John Hegarty criticised Allen White’s advert for lacking any real substance, noting that “art without truth is just decoration.” But is there anything inherently wrong with “just decoration?” We love decoration. We can’t get enough of it. We show it to our friends, point and giggle, plaster our bedroom walls with it. Calvin Klein knows this. While there are most definitely a number of things we need to deconstruct and discuss about sexualising adverts, such as the impact it has on body image, it is undeniable that sex sells. The sleek, minimalist posters of the world’s favourite icons sporting the venerated ‘CK’ underwear have become truly epochal. 

Illustration by Lindsay Martin