Rewind. Back prior to the age of true digitalism, in fact. The year is 1980 and a teenage Brooke Shields, photographed by Richard Avedon, points out in a print ad that ‘Nothing comes between me and my Calvins’. Calvin Klein is the name plastered on the back of the hottest jeans, the must-have, lust-have denim that makes school and college kids have seizures and parents roll their eyes in ‘How much?!’ agony. The concept of designer denim was truly kicking off, introduced by Klein in 1978, with the likes of Gloria Vanderbilt in on the jean-genie action too. But Calvin, Calvin really was the name to have. Exotic, fricative consonants, a foreign allure, ‘something different’ but underneath the familiar power of an American, Jewish-NYC homeboy. Taking a cultural staple like the humble jean and making it sex was both a shrewd AND lewd move; a kick in the face - or the crotch - of society, branding was becoming religious and it was Calvin that was one of those early deities. His philosophy? Just the right blend of the aspirational and the accessible, the foundation for many of CK’s products today, in 2008, even. 

It was in 1981, a year later, however that Calvin really shook a gusset. What next after jeans? Well, what about what goes UNDER them? Calvin launched the first line of CK underwear for men. Men’s underwear was utilitarian and nothing to be drawn upon outside of closed doors, it was functional and non-aspirational - it was a product like any other, be it petrol or tinned tuna or washing-up liquid. Here came the revolution as was to be portrayed by advertising subtext: if you bought CK underwear you could be a hunk that women loved and other men were jealous of. That name endorsed on the waistband made you a Calvin Klein man. Branded. No-one could take that away from you. And from 1983, you could be a Calvin Klein woman, when CK’s underwear for women launched.

Times, by then, were a-changing for Klein, who started out operating a women’s coat business with childhood friend Barry Schwartz in 1968. He was operating on the fringes of a developing culture - sure he had his mainline sportswear, but ultimately he was pushing more universal product - jeans, underwear and latterly fragrance at the end of the 80’s - toward being a cult. It just so happened that the cult was to be a mass one.

The engine behind much of Klein’s success was undoubtedly his eye for what identity was the most ‘now’ in his campaigns. Calvin loved a casting and knew how to push all the right buttons - there was always an element of danger, an outcry that’d he’d gone ‘too far’ with every ad from naysayers, but his true genius was underscored in the actual clean, efficient nature of his garments featured. His underwear was, after all, white or grey jersey and aesthetically as far away from a prostitute’s boudoir as you could expect. If there were concerns of exploitation in his use of young models, which continued through the 90’s, that was contrasted resolutely by the garments on display themselves. It was a fine line and a precarious, dotted one at times but one which ultimately shaped our culture throughout the decade.

For all the faces though - and there were a lot in later campaigns, such as the Gen X grungers/motley crew for CK Be fragrance - there are but two identities which made Calvin Klein truly notorious: Marky Mark Wahlberg and Kate Moss. 

Marky Mark was a ripped, rough-round-the-edges character with the torso of a modern Adonis. Having showed off in his Good Vibrations music video, he went on to be shot by the legendary Herb Ritts for a series of CK underwear ads in monochrome, following their success with some famous (and ubiquitously Youtube-able) television spots for the brand. Such was the hype of Wahlberg’s image, in 1992 the Calvin Klein billboard in New York's Times Square featured him exclusively, with even Annie Leibovitz shooting an underwear editorial with him for Vanity Fair's annual Hall of Fame issue. It was, as Ponystep’s fashion editor Jean-Marc Masala agrees; “The ultimate celebration of pop.”

Kate Moss was, at the time, something of a firework - she glittered but no one considered the repercussions of her potential longevity. Straight outta Croydon with a bang and a representation of a new body morphology, Moss was rakish, boyish and unapologetically so; she had a hard purity and a more complex ideology beyond all the womanly, old-school ‘supers’ of the time. She was innocence, realness, grit and a new definition of - and question toward – glamour, all wrapped up in one. 

Having been shot by Corinne Day and styled by Melanie Ward for The Face when Moss was just 15, Kate became the poster-girl of the ‘waif’ look in 1993 with a campaign for Calvin Klein, including posing completely nude in ads for the fragrance Obsession. Her underwear ads for CK mostly centred around the Wahlberg/Moss tag-team (and its arresting dichotomy of ideals). Always studio, always against a clean background, always with them draped sculpturally over each other in defiance.

People would throw mud at Moss and what she represented in the easy guise of the detrimental tag ‘heroin chic’ - with even President Bill Clinton, in the now rudimentary way of politicians interfering in things they have no business to, getting involved to criticise the aesthetic; referring to how the new look of drawn and gaunt had more gutter than glamour. But Moss importantly remained an icon of Klein, who continued to use her in his campaigns throughout the 90s. And it turned out that Klein, The Face and i-D  (who believed in her from the start), were right. Ideals changed with her and now she is an icon. Full-stop.

But why is CK underwear itself still relevant today? Because Calvin’s world - as immortalised as by Bruce Weber, Peter Lindbergh, Patrick Demarchelier, Herb Ritts, Steven Meisel, Mario Sorrenti, Kelly Klein, Mario Testino, Inez van Lamsweerde & Vinoodh Matadin, Steven Klein, David Sims, Wayne Maser, Tiziano Magni and Terry Richardson, has become a universal one. CK made it globally.

He can make you feel good about yourself from the inside out. His mindset can be subscribed to, simply by wearing his jerseys - you too can be a part of his gang. It might be broader than the romantic and niche ideal, but the power of what the CK underwear brand stands for is so overriding it doesn’t matter. Jean-Marc Masala has the most succinct approximation of it all: “With Calvin Klein the American dream became possible for every kid in Europe. Being hot became as powerful as being successful and it’s still the case today, I think.”

Having remained at full throttle since the heady days of the 90’s, with post-millenial ideals of Freddie Ljungberg, Natalia Vodianova, new-face Garrett Neff and Eva Mendes being amongst recent ambassadors of the brand, the ideology remains, evolving, and art directed through print with precision under the eye of Fabien Baron. Calvin Klein is now overseen by creative director Kevin Carrigan as Klein himself retired in 2003, Carrigan being the unsung hero responsible for everything from underwear and jeans to CK ready-to-wear and beyond, a cloaked figure unlike his creative director colleagues at Calvin Klein collection, Francisco Costa and Italo Zucchelli. Costa and Zucchelli are keeping the prestige, receiving the biggest ovation worldwide from critics for their progressive approach and innovation in high-end fashion, especially through fabric research.

“I was always think of Calvin whenever I see grey marl and that hasn't changed with the passage of time,” says fashion authority Tim Blanks. “But the sensual minimalism of the original designer underwear pitch has been beautifully extended through the whole collection by Italo Zucchelli.”

And the pioneering ground work of Calvin Klein through CK underwear? “The ten-cent theory is that Calvin Klein pioneered the objectification of men,” Blanks summarises. “The one-cent version? He made it cool to look hot.” 

DMD.