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THURSDAY NEWSLETTER FROM ANDREA BATILLA

THE PROBLEM WITH CALVIN KLEIN

In 1970, Janis Joplin died of an overdose at just 27, marking the end, not the beginning, of the party. The Watergate scandal broke in 1973 and the oil crisis followed in 1974. The dream of a collective future shattered and individualism replaced idealism.

Bound only by the pursuit of personal success, the United States quickly became a society where work and money were the primary goals. This way of life would reach Europe nearly a decade later, fundamentally reshaping how people thought and interacted with the world.

Fashion changed accordingly. Clothing had to be practical, interchangeable, and comfortable but it also had to visibly signal social status. Tailoring and suiting became dominant concepts, emphasizing structured garments that left little room for creativity and restricted designers' freedom of movement. Everything became drastically simplified, aligning with the minimalist aesthetic that had emerged as an art movement in the previous decade. However, only a few designers explored minimalism as a pure concept, detached from social implications. Zoran was one of the few, later followed in Italy by Romeo Gigli.

Calvin Klein became a relevant brand in 1968 because it helped define the aesthetic boundaries of a particular segment of American culture. Minimalism, often associated with Klein, was not his core trait but rather his mode of expression. Calvin Klein rose to prominence in the mid-1970s, following in the footsteps of Halston, by establishing clear stylistic codes for the new American bourgeoisie and, specifically, working women. While European fashion, at its lowest point in terms of popularity in the U.S., was still indulging in crystal chandeliers and embroidered taffeta, the American market demanded practicality and everyday usability, moving further away from outdated notions of luxury.

From this need and the work of designers like Jean Muir, Geoffrey Beene, Anne Klein, Bill Blass, Oscar de la Renta and of course, Calvin Klein, came the rise of Giorgio Armani, whose aesthetic was shaped by this refined, comfortable, luxurious sportswear.

In this context, Vogue America championed a new kind of woman, one who, for the first time, could establish herself in society without the need for a man. If she wanted to have fun, she paid for a gigolo. Just like in Paul Schrader’s famous film, starring Richard Gere, dressed, fittingly, in Giorgio Armani.