CK One (Calvin Klein)

Beautiful Ad, Beautiful Frag

It might surprise you to read that I consider CK One a great fragrance. I flirted with it throughout the nineties, but don't recall ever buying a bottle, although I believe I was gifted a half-ouncer one year for Christmas or something, and I wore it and enjoyed it. CK One is among the few openly chemical compositions I can forgive; Klein wished to create an androgynous anti-perfume, and he learned that this was only possible by eschewing form in favor of function. There are only three CK frags I truly like, and this is the third (Obsession for Men and Truth for Men are the others). 

Context is everything. The early nineties ('90-'94) were just a cultural extension of the eighties. It's true that grunge music, mainly by Nirvana, marked an irreversible cultural shift away from the glam-fueled excesses of the prior decade, but it wasn't until 1993 that the decade formed its own identity. Kurt Cobain's untimely death disrupted grunge's Berlin Wall-pulverizing momentum, but his immortal It-Factor genie was out of its bottle, and America went from Cindy Crawford to Kate Moss like someone flipped a switch. As with any past era, you had to live through this one to fully understand it. I was thirteen, and acutely aware of everything. Women had suddenly started to wear jeans to church. Makeup had become optional. Tattoo culture had escaped from biker bars. America's collective idea of sexiness could no longer be found in Robert Palmer songs. Sexy was the disheveled waif in a tank top, fresh off a weekend bender and with breath that could wake the dead. Hence the Kate Moss thing - she was everywhere. 

CK One was as much about the Kate Moss ads as it was about the fragrance. Its ad campaign was a rolling black and white panoramic film of half nude teenagers loafing around Mr. Klein himself, with the beautiful Jenny Shimizu and Stella Tennant making the occasional guest appearance to broaden the frag's cultural and international appeal. Did the perfume live up to the hype? I think it did. CK One is obviously the inspiration for Creed's Silver Mountain Water, and many writers note its nondescript and somewhat snowy freshness as laying the foundation for the endless acres of soapy-fresh frags that followed. I happen to smell it as more of a floral musk cologne, its lineage traceable to eighteenth century citrus eau de colognes, updated by Klein to smell new and a little strange. My nose settles on the white floral tones generously laced into the composition, and I find the principal thrust of CK One to lean very slightly feminine. 

This brings me to the vaunted concept of CK One: Oneness. An increasingly politicized notion of fashionable androgyny had permeated into the mainstream by 1994, and Klein wanted a fragrance that anyone, man or woman, could wear. Transgenderism had yet to become a bedrock talking point, but the conversation had begun, and Klein's fragrance needed to reflect these changes as artistically and accessibly as possible. The product came in a nondescript bottle that bore neither masculine nor feminine traits, a colorless flask with a dull grey atomizer and transparent script. The fragrance straddles the same delicate balance of its classical cologne progenitors, managing to somehow interweave the masculine nuances of precious woods and potent barbershop musks with distinctly femme notes of faux jasmine, freesia, and muguet. Never too dry, never too sweet, the package was as finely tuned as a Bechstein piano. It smells overwhelmingly synthetic because it was designed to, not because of budgetary or creative constraints. In this regard, hiring Alberto Morillas to compose the scent was a stroke of genius; Morillas' portfolio is populated with fragrances which are obviously soapy, designer-grade, and unabashedly chemical, earning him the nickname Chemical Morillas. 

How does CK One read today? Transgenderism has now become a bedrock American issue, and it's one that I'm far more open to than most of my fellow Republican friends. Oneness is a uniquely American concept: the idea that all are equal, and that everyone is someone. Gay, straight, or bi, transgender or cisgender, Klein's unifying goal was to coalesce identities into a perfume with universal appeal. We were all meant to smell as One. This is perhaps the biggest difference between the sexual politics of the nineties and the identity politics of today - instead of deference to some, Klein embraced all. The public embraced him back, and CK One was a bestseller for years, and continues to be. In 2021 we're faced with constant news stories about the plight of transgender people, and while I think that some of it is noise, I'm largely sympathetic to them. I was raised in an America where people from all walks were not written off just because they turned out to be complicated, or because they challenged established social norms. I've grown into a person who sees people of every persuasion as who they are: people. This goes for trans people too. People are alive, and as Charly Baltimore once said, life is pain - get used to it. Some transgender people struggle with their transition, with the medical and emotional intricacies of their gauntlet transition process, and with the harsh beauty standards society imposes on them. Then there are some transgender people who have survived the struggle of transitioning, have become beautiful examples of their gender, and have stepped almost effortlessly into their lives as model citizens. 

Many Conservatives get hung up on "men are men, women are women." I believe that people are defined by their behavior. You are what you do. We don't go to our graves being remembered as men and women. We go being remembered as husbands and wives, authors and mathematicians, artists and musicians, architects of our chosen or god-given identities. We live together, and we all die eventually. The Oneness of the nineties was perhaps more of a heroin-chic lip-lifting "whatever" sneer, but it has happily evolved into a contemporary conversation about what it means to be a human being. If there's a lesson to be gleaned from the original CK One campaign, it is that America's ideal of Oneness was once encapsulated in a lovely little smell that virtually anyone could pull off, on any day, at any place. For the cost of a pizza, the fragrance, and the sentiment it comes with, is yours. There's still hope for us, and it smells rather good. 

Eternity for Men (Calvin Klein)

This was my brother's signature for several years. He's an interesting fellow, a graduate of NYU with a Masters in social work. In recent days he gravitates more to L'Occitane fragrances than to anything by CK, but I do believe he still has a bottle of Eternity on his shelf. There are likely millions of young men and women who have worn it in the last twenty-four years, most of them of high school and college age, which is a plus and a minus. On the plus side, it makes the fragrance forever associated with youth, sex, and fun times. Many adults look back fondly on their earliest adventures whenever they revisit the fragrances of that time period. I'm sure that revisiting Eternity brings back memories for many people. However, when the majority of a scent's wearers are barely old enough to vote, it robs it of any sophistication it might have had. That can be a notable minus.

Most of the fresh fougères of the last thirty years share a common characteristic: frankness. They are fragrant one-liners, the olfactory equivalents of Jack Nicholson's famously-quoted movie comebacks. If some asshole pisses on your shoes and says, "this is power," piss on his and say, "this is asparagus." Or just wear a fresh fougère. You can cut through everyone else's b.s. but simply smelling better than them. Of this particular freshie, Luca Turin wrote:

"It smells good but cheap, which would be fine if the overall structure were unpretentious as in Cool Water, whereas it is distinctly aspirational."

I agree with him. The biggest drawback to wearing Eternity for Men is not its associations with beer pong and backseat whoopie. Its Achilles Heel is its attempt to be something more than it can possibly be. The whole point of a one-liner is for the message to arrive short and sweet, without any over-arching meanings tagged to it. In discussing Boss Number One, I stated that its simple soapiness prevents it from adopting any unwanted pretense (indeed, it is one of the soapiest fougères I've encountered), and I look to Eternity to achieve the same level of cheerful cheapness, with the same level of self-acceptance. It scowls and goes all serious on me instead.

Eternity is a fresh fougère that smells quite good, with a rather abstract rendition of lavender, coriander, sandalwood, geranium, basil, rosewood, amber, and musk. All the notes are blended together nicely, and it smells quite soapy and clean. However, there's a seriousness, a grimness almost, that bogs it down. I sense whenever I wear it that Eternity wants to be more refined, conservative, stately, with all those muted spicy-herbal notes placed precariously atop precious woods. Yet its mid-grade designer ingredients really don't allow it to go that far. Perhaps if this fragrance were reinterpreted by an upscale firm like Creed or Parfumerie Generale, it would take on a convincingly sophisticated characteristic, but at its current price-point, it's far too cheap to pull it off.

Carlos Benaim's creation, like many of his works, is good. He might have tried to reinterpret the Ivy League elegance of Polo in his composition for CK - I don't know what his goal was here. Ultimately the fragrance tries too hard. Unlike Boss and Cool Water, two fougères that are very comfortable in their own skin, Eternity is a kid who thinks his smell makes him a man. "Aspirational" sums it up nicely.

Euphoria Men (Calvin Klein)

I happen to own a small, .5 oz bottle of Euphoria Men, for reasons that are unknown to me. I can't even recall when I picked it up, although I suspect it was during a holiday season a few years back. 

I can't be bothered to wear this fragrance, or bring myself to address its popular reputation as a successful part of Klein's mediocre legacy. I won't wear it because I don't really care for it, and I've already covered Klein's mediocre legacy here. I do want to point out that Euphoria Men has one somewhat interesting thing I hadn't really noticed before - it possesses a rather good ginger top note. If you enjoy the damp, warm-fresh scent of ginger, Euphoria's rendition of it may be a good incentive to check this fragrance out.

I'm afraid the rest of it is a total non-entity. The ginger note is very fleeting, and lasts about three minutes on my skin before disappearing behind a thin wall of sweet ambers and peppery, synthetic leather notes. There's a point where the ginger transitions to the amber and makes Euphoria smell like ginger ale, but it's a short-lived effect, and it doesn't really add anything interesting to this fragrance's development. There's an intense version of Euphoria Men? That's to be expected, I suppose. While the original's longevity and sillage are adequate, it's not exactly a barn-burner in those departments. Euphoria remains in my collection as a fragrance to refer to solely for its top note.

CK Be (Calvin Klein)

Of this depressing fougère, Luca Turin inexplicably wrote: ""Though less radiant, [CK Be] perfectly hits the spot for those who want a fragrance not just to evoke a faded memory, but to smell like one." I agree, if that faded memory is of being dumped and humiliated after your senior prom, just when you thought two hours of slow dancing and a shared bottle of Leroux would pay off. I've never been a fan of CK fragrances - most strike me as being a collection of synthetics at a remarkably high dilution - but Be is the most puzzling of the brand's "successes." Its composition is so devoid of charisma and so blatantly lacking in quality that I wonder how anyone can be bothered to wear it. 

There are a few basenoters and fragranticans who assert that Be has been drastically reformulated since its first release in 1996, and that Ann Gottlieb (of Marc Jacobs' Bang fame) had nothing to do with the cheapening of its materials, but I'm not really buying that. CK has always made cheap-smelling fragrances, and any reformulation would not alter those characteristics enough to warrant mentioning. I still have an old bottle of the original formulation of Obsession for Men, and though it smells a bit smoother than the current formula, it nevertheless smells of essential oil bar soap. I also recall CK One smelling remarkably chemical (but actually quite good) back when I was in high school. Guess what? Still smells that way today. So Be, while aged and perhaps reformulated to better suit contemporary tastes, still smells like itself to me.

It's basically just another cheap aromatic fougère. Its notes include lavender, bergamot, sandalwood, stone fruits, amber, violet leaf, cedar, peach, mint, vanilla, and white musk. For lavender, take Caron Pour un Homme's, strip away the actual lavender oil, and leave the halo effect of that herb - presto! You have lavender. For bergamot, put Moustache's in a dehydrator for three days. Superb, you have Be's bergamot. For Sandalwood, refer to the sandalwood in Caswell-Massey's sandalwood soap. Except the soap smells better. You get the idea. And each note is weaker than spray deodorant. Unsurprisingly, the white musk is the only ingredient that seems well wrought here, and why shouldn't it be? It's just another cheap synthetic. I don't know what spurred millions of people to buy Be when it was released (I'm guessing CK One had everything to do with it), but if you're voluntarily buying and wearing it today, you'd probably benefit from 300 mg of Bupropion.

Calvin Klein Man (Calvin Klein)

Calvin Klein has never been a serious fragrance powerhouse. Aside from Obsession for Men and CK One, their lineup has mostly been good rather than great, often relying on heavily synthetic compositions that attract youthful generations who eventually outgrow the brand. I see the house as one that "goes with the flow" rather than make its own waves. Truth for Men, CK One Shock for Him, and Beauty are fine examples of reinterpreting popular trends rather than setting them, and the fact that these fragrances often appear in the discount bing at rack stores doesn't help. For years, I assumed Calvin Klein Man was just another forgettable and entirely synthetic college boy's scent that wasn't worth trying. Without ever smelling it, I dismissed it outright.

Then I tried it, and to my surprise, liked it enough to buy a bottle. The packaging did nothing to raise my expectations: the box is uninspired, with a black field, silver frame, and pencil-thin sans serif font, all cliché minimalism, a throwback to CK One/Be. The scent itself is far more complex than its online note pyramids suggest, functioning almost like an essay on masculine perfumery since the mid-1980s, with nods to Green Irish Tweed, Cool Water, Fahrenheit, and even old Bay Rums, with hints of Green Valley and Sport Field. It opens with peppery violet leaf, bay leaf, rosemary, and a green-spicy element likely to be cypress, quickly shifting to nutmeg, violet leaf, violet flower, and mellow hawthorn, reminiscent of Fahrenheit but gentler. In the base, nutmeg still lingers against a milky guaiac wood accord to keep the spice in check. Guaiac wood is the star here, rosy, winey, and slightly green, adding depth and preventing the composition from feeling hollow. Without it, Man would lose much of its richness.

The drydown is basic: clean white musk, a hint of sandalwood, and a trace of hawthorn, lasting about five hours, which is impressive for the brand. It avoids the overplayed woody amber style of most modern masculines, instead opting for an offbeat sweet floral profile that feels confident without overreaching. There is a clear homage to Dior here, but strangely, I would rather wear Man than Fahrenheit. If you see it at Marshalls for under thirty dollars, buy it. It is one of the nicest contemporary Calvin Klein scents for men and proof that sometimes the most overlooked bottles deserve a second chance.

Eternity Aqua For Men (Calvin Klein)

Calvin Klein is an interesting brand. Their fragrance concepts are usually ambitious, and sometimes they hire superstar noses to formulate their juice. They've made one of the nicest modern orientals around - Obsession for Men. Their latest successes include CK One Shock for Him/Her. This company is still in the game.

What irritates me a little about CK is that I'm fully aware of their potential for greatness, yet always let down by their offerings, not because they're intrinsically weak, but because they're usually appropriate for the teenage set only. Teenage readers, take note: if you're having trouble finding a well-made everyday fragrance that doesn't condescend, take a good look at the CK range. You'll be spoiled for choice. For you ambitious business-types, the guy who works at a McDonalds, but dreams of owning a Zagat-favored steakhouse, I present to you Eternity Aqua.

Aqua has all the usual bells and whistles of a postmodern aquatic. There's a juicy citrus accord on top, made cold by a pleasant cucumber note, which smells a touch better than expected. Lavender appears as the fruit burns off, and within five minutes segues to an strange aromatic wood note (guaiac wood?), accented by piquant Sichuan spices, which I suppose are meant to lend contrast to that cool beginning. What it accomplishes is no mean trick; Aqua's banal Calone promises yield an aqueous oriental effect, which kinda-sorta works. The pepper smells clean and mature, and is very appealing. You know what, boys? I take it back - you can have regular Eternity, and I'll wear this.

Obsession (Calvin Klein)

One has to wonder if Obsession would have been nearly as popular without Kate Moss as its spokesmodel. Moss was a force unto herself in the 1990s, a woman whose face was as ubiquitous as it was beautiful. I recall spending a number of my teenage years imagining her as a water nymph, merely masquerading as a human. There's something discarnate about her, and I'm not referring to her extreme thinness. It wouldn't surprise me if photographers needed a special lens to photograph her.

A magic glass of sorts is also required for deciphering Calvin Klein's famous unisex oriental. It's hard to make sense of it; Obsession is a very dense and complicated fragrance. People describe it as "hot," "spicy," "vanilla," generally strong, and somewhat retro. It's a big '80s perfume, full of the bombastic energy of that time period. It has been reformulated into something significantly less than its former self, but it still smells pretty good. Subtle notes of peach and bergamot exit the atomizer first, followed by cinnamon, clove, benzoin, and vanilla. 

Eventually the white flowers show up - plenty of orange blossom and jasmine. An earthier base of patchouli, oakmoss, and sandalwood asserts itself, but here the scent becomes a bit flat. I'm reminded of Creed's Baie de Genievre in that Obsession's drydown, like the Creed's, resembles the smell of clean hospital bandages. Side-by-side sniff comparisons of Obsession and the original formulation of Obsession for Men (sadly I do not have the original formulation of the feminine Obsession) reveal the latter has superior citrus and spices and a deeper clove note.

Obsession has limited longevity and a compromised structure, but it's still the best offering from Calvin Klein. I don't use it myself because the far drydown reminds me of, believe it or not, Passion for Men by Liz Taylor. The two are so similar that I'm inclined to pass on a whole bottle of this formulation and just wear Passion - it's half the price and just as good. Then again, Obsession for Men is far better than both of them, and smells cleaner due to its soapy clove note. With me, soapiness always wins the day.

CK One Shock for Him (Calvin Klein)

The house of Calvin Klein has, in my estimation, one of the weirdest all-time track records in fragrance history. here's an abbreviated rundown (to spare myself from actually reviewing the scents) of its timeline:

1978 - CK releases their eponymous rosy chypre for women. It's a hit, but sales eventually stall and it's discontinued. I have yet to encounter a bottle.

1981 - Calvin is released as the masculine follow-up. Considered a conservative and spicy fougère in the tradition of Azzaro Pour Homme, with lower-grade materials. I have yet to encounter a bottle.

1985 - The company makes up for lost time and releases a notable fragrance called Obsession. This classical oriental has plenty of bombast and anachronistic qualities, and it sells quite nicely. Now reformulated into a bit of a blah.

1986 - Obsession for Men is the appropriate sequel, and the only "masterpiece" ever released by this company. It isn't all that different from the original, except it's better. Much better. If you can find vintage bottles, buy them immediately.

1988 - Now officially on the perfumista's radar, CK throws its newly-minted heft and taps the talented Belarusian nose Sophia Grojsman for its first foray into the world of modern fruity-floraldom. The result: Eternity. It's a major hit with the ladies, especially college girls. But its crude fruit and screechy rose haven't stood the test of time. Several flankers are spawned.

1989 - The brand's second most-famous scent, Eternity for Men, is released. It was then what it is today: a sweet chemical spill that no mop can sop, although the novel blend of mandarin, lavender, and sandalwood wins points for oft-copied originality. Several flankers are spawned.

1991 - The nineties are entered with genre-defining shrillness in the form of Escape. Its blaring sweet 'n fresh composition fits nicely into a league of like-minded oddball aquatics from this period. Many on Fragrantica seem to find Escape similar to Sunflowers by Elizabeth Arden. I feel Escape was aptly named, as it suggests exactly what I should do whenever it's around. This scent is currently relegated to discounters like Marshalls and T.J. Maxx.

1993 - Escape for Men is introduced. One could consider that it's a Calone-fueled essay on coriander, woods, and musk, but it really reads as an extremely rough draft of CK One, which is a far better fragrance. The pencil shavings drydown is so crude and annoying that I'd rather roll in a tub of graphite than smell Escape.

1994 - Reacting to the lackluster press for Escape, Klein buckles down and releases CK One, a unisex citrus floral musk scent that is as pleasant as it is innocuous. At least it still smells good, and to its credit CK One is indeed suitable for both men and women. Several flankers are spawned.

1996 - CK Be is released, and its existential name gets my hopes up. The scent, a pallid fresh fougere, is utterly forgettable. Something about white musk, with some green spices thrown in for good measure. The company refuses to discontinue CK Be, so I guess its fans are keeping it alive. I have no use for it. 

1998 - Contradiction follows up the Big CKs. Basically a stale fruity floral with an overdose of eucalyptus. Sells just well enough to stay in the market, which means it must be doing pretty well. Does it inspire anything beyond a footnote? As the Czechs would say, "ne." But it does exhibit Klein's deftness in package design.

1999 - Contradiction for Men predictably makes an appearance. Its humongous fake lemon/lime top does little to soothe my already-jangled nerves. I hate those who wear it - namely my peers in high school - with a seething passion.

2000 - The brand finally eschews its formulaic fruity florals in favor of a green scent called Truth. It's evidently a pleasant scent that rubs critics the right way for a change. I have yet to knowingly sniff it, and cannot comment, except to say that I believe what I read. Still, after 20 years of crap, who cares anymore?

2002 - Truth for Men is introduced. It's a pleasantly humid tropical green scent with a beautiful central accord of bamboo and honeydew melon. Unfortunately its longevity clocks in at under fifteen minutes. A pity. Sales fall short, and Truth for Men, despite being one of my favorite Klein frags, is now no more.

2005 - Euphoria is released, and fails to elicit any. Some find it similar to Angel, others to Obsession, and still others to both. Currently lost in the latest multitudinous crop of rich fruity orientals for women. I can't be bothered with the non-entity masculine version, other than to say it does a ginger note pretty well.

2007 - The brand does something uncharacteristic and releases a lone masculine, unimaginatively naming it Calvin Klein Man. It's a fresh fougère that channels Dior Fahrenheit, yet somehow manages to bungle violet leaf. Rarely seen anywhere but at Marshalls, for what it's worth, and as of now it's discontinued.

2009 - Continuing its weird new trend, the company releases another lone masculine, CK Free. Widely considered a dull woody-fresh scent with nothing saving it. More complaints about poor longevity abound.

2010 - "Ladies, we haven't forgotten you." That's the message conveyed by the isolated release of the feminine Beauty. With a name like that, a masculine follow-up isn't likely. Beauty is little more than a competent clone of Hilfiger's Tommy Girl. A little cedar in lieu of green tea, a few extra drops of Iso E Super, and voilà! We have a throwback scent. It's better than most of the above, but only marginally.

Also 2010 - Klein's flanker mill churns out Eternity Aqua. It's no barn burner, but the attempt to blend aquatic fresh notes with hints of oriental spice ends up smelling surprisingly decent. I'd buy it if Marshalls slapped a $5 sticker on a full 3.4 oz bottle. 

Which brings us to 2011, and CK One Shock for Him. I'm unsure as to why it took them thirty years to come up with a good fragrance, but worthy things come to those who wait. Not that I've been holding my breath. It's also a mystery as to why the brand decided to make this unusual woody-spicy oriental part of the world's lamest flanker mill, and not give it an original name. Perhaps it reveals how out of touch with quality the suits at CK are - they didn't even recognize they had something worthy of distinction. Curiously complex in scope, Shock opens with a bright pepper and patchouli, spiked with sweetly-herbal lavender. The composition is softened by the arrival of warm cardamom and pipe tobacco in the heart, which takes its time in developing. 

Eventually these well-defined herbs and spices are conjoined, and a little blurred, by a delectable vanilla note. An odd minty citrus note (possibly the usage of osmanthus with clementine or tangerine) keeps everything from becoming overly steeped. Quite possibly their finest fragrance to date, although nowhere near as groundbreaking as the original CK One. A Klein scent that smells good? Shocking!

Obsession for Men & Obsession Night for Men (Calvin Klein)

Something about Obsession for Men appeals to my dark side. Perhaps because it's named after something in the DSM, or those weirdo '80s commercials successfully worked their subliminal magic, but this "cheap oriental" is noteworthy. I only know the original formula (still have a 25 yr-old splash bottle), and cannot comment on its current incarnation, but the classic stuff made a lasting impression. Bob Slattery should be applauded for his one and only masculine fragrance contribution. 

Obsession for Men is, in my opinion, the only serious and "mature" masculine scent released by this company. Forget your Eternities (the flankers for which go on eternally), your Escapes, and your Truths. Obsession is the everyman oriental of the eighties. It has sex appeal in spades, particularly if you consider the breadth of its popularity. Its simple arrangement of herbs and spices, flushed with citrus and based on a familiarly warm amber, feels distinctly formal at first. Eventually it dries into a eugenol-fueled soapy cleanness that projects for miles and lasts for days. Obsession is like Old Spice on steroids. It isn't high art, but it has a manly aura I can appreciate. 

As for Obsession Night for Men . . .

. . . Well, things didn't quite work out they way I wanted them to. The concept is fair enough: take lemon, grapefruit, pear, and other fruity, apple-like esters; weld everything to cardamom, suede, a dollop of patchouli, inedible vanilla. Sounds nice enough, but it falls flat, and I don't know why. I'm tempted to blame the listlessness on a common issue with CK scents - their poor longevity. Obsession Night goes strong for all of twenty minutes before dropping like a sack of potatoes into the skin-scent abyss.

Another problem is that Obsession Night bears no relation to the original Obsession. Orientals automatically lend themselves to being "night" scents. One supposes a little darkening of the formula, with added spices and some burnt sugar, is enough tweaking to yield a whole new beast. Evidently the boardroom suits had their way and voted for the "safe" and genuinely cheap (not Luca Turin's cheap) formula. I don't mean to suggest that it smells bad - quite the opposite, actually. Obsession Night for Men is a very nice scent, a postmodern leather with a pleasantly fruity personality. But it doesn't smell sturdy, or serious, or like anything I enjoy in the original perfume.