The Androgynous Mystique: CK One, Heroin, and The Fluidity of the Self
Between 1995 and 1996 a good deal of commotion began to arise over several
different series of Calvin Klein advertisements, initiated largely by a
strange conglomeration of family groups, anti-drug organizations, and feminists.
The major complaint was that the advertisements were contributing to, and
arguably acting as the forerunner of, the movement that was soon dubbed
“heroin chic.” These advertisements prompted two main lines of criticism:
the implications of drug use and the actual physical appearance of the
models. The advertisements were accused of glamorizing the use and
abuse of heroin, an indictment that infuriated many people because they
appeared in conjunction with the already rising popularity of heroin due
to depictions in pop culture and its use by several rock superstars, especially
within the relatively new grunge scene. Between 1994 and 1995, Killing
Zoe, Pulp Fiction, The Basketball Diaries, and Trainspotting were all released:
each of these very successful movies featured heroin, either as a peripheral
trait or habit of one of the characters (for example, super-cool Vincent
Vega, who Tarantino specifically wrote to be played by John Travolta) or
as the focus of the movie itself (i.e, Trainspotting). In addition,
a myriad of wildly popular performers such as Courtney Love, Jerry Garcia,
Kurt Cobain, Shannon Hoon (from Blind Melon), and Brad Nowell were hooked
on heroin at this point in time. Hoon and Nowell both ended up dying
of an overdose, in 1995 and 1996 respectively, and Cobain achieved near-mythological
status as rock martyr supreme after he killed himself in 1994 following
the release of In Utero. While you might think that such highly visible
deaths would deter people from trying heroin, the number of users in the
United States has continued to rise. One problem that many people
had with the Calvin Klein ads was that they were contributing to the trend
of glamorizing heroin users, which was by extension contributing to the
problem with heroin.
The other argument
against the ads was that they were presenting a very negative and potentially
damaging beauty ideal. Another paper on the ads described it as an
“image that appears tired, strung-out, weak, incapable of movement or action,
and yet it is selling this image as one of power; the power of sexuality.”
Describing the models as waifs, Pachler claims that these models, namely
the prototypical heroin chick, Kate Moss, all were supposed to be representing
what is sexy, to be the very embodiment of sexy. She goes on to explain
how equating sexy with these sort of models is extremely problematic and
dangerous, which I agree with completely. However, there is one major
flaw that I discovered in her argument.
The models are not sexy.
I’m sorry, but they’re
not, and the realization of this seemingly obvious fact is what really
prompted the creation of this paper. In an admittedly very unscientific
survey of my friends, not one person out of a collection of gay, straight,
and bi males and females of various races and ethnicities found the models
sexually attractive at all in the ads that we are discussing. While
this doesn’t prove anything per se, the fact that an advertisement that
is supposed to appeal to the maximum number of people possible failed to
appeal to anyone in a vary diverse group seems rather odd, and even if
my friends’ reactions don’t prove anything, an examination of the pictures
themselves makes it obvious that the models have hardly any of the characteristics
of stereotypical feminine beauty. A far more accurate description
of the sort of feminine beauty ideal advanced by the media and entertainment
industry would be the Barbie/Porn Star type: long hair, cute face, large
breasts, firm stomach and arms, round butt, curvaceous but trim legs.
This ideal is also harmful, and actually even more damaging because the
airbrushed look and photographic tricks are impossible to achieve in real
life (unless you are surgically altered, but that’s a topic for another
paper). The point is that generally the models in these pictures
often lack the most basic attributes of the feminine beauty ideal, namely
breasts and a curvaceous lower body. This lack becomes even more
problematic when we contextualize it in the pictures and in the series
of advertisements as a whole. In many of the pictures we will be
discussing, there are men in the pictures who look almost exactly the same
as the women. It is difficult to claim that the ads are trying to
advance an image of feminine beauty when the women in the picture look
exactly like the men.
I believe that I can explain
this anomaly, by claiming that the models in these ads are not supposed
to be sexy. As radical as this is going to sound, I think that these
advertisements are not offering up a beauty ideal or a vision of a desired
or desirable body. The first time we see an ad that is either for
a fashion/body product or has a skinny person, we automatically assume
that it’s pushing a beauty ideal. However, by erasing a clear distinction
between masculinity and femininity, these ads challenge the importance
accorded to the body, specifically to the particularized and gendered body.
Instead of presenting a beauty ideal, I believe that it is arguing against
the existence of any such idea. Instead of being an antifeminist
statement, it actually falls into the paradigm of such postmodern feminists
such as Alcoff and Butler who emphasize the constructed, artificial, and
performative aspects of the idea of gender. Instead of presenting
the body as an end in itself, as an ideal to strive for, I believe these
ads emphasize the concept of a body as a signifier for something else,
the idea of the body as a sign. I do agree that the signification
they are working towards is a heroin addict, and this signification raises
further problems to the concept of the discrete body and stable identities.
To put it simply, I believe
that bodies in these pictures are an argument against the idea of a fixed,
static, and self-contained body and identity. They do so in two main
ways, through the visual aspects of the picture and the metaphorics of
heroin use that the pictures allude to. Visually there is a move
towards androgyny, which confuses and moves away from thinking about the
specifically gendered body. Next, the implication of heroin use challenges
the traditional concept of identity in several ways; heroin alters a person
physically and psychologically, breaking down a clear distinction between
mind, body, and the outside world, which is what initiates the changes.
More will be said about these ideas later. In short, I believe that
the ads are an argument against stable identities, and gendered identities
in particular. Of course, this is not because Calvin Klein is a card-carrying
member of the Postmodern Feminist Theory club, but rather because it fits
in with the sort of product and product image the ads are trying to sell.
First I will examine the
pictures in themselves and try to explain the significance of the obvious
androgynous tone they possess. After that I will explain how the
pictures are meant to evoke a connection with heroin, particularly the
sort of “heroin glam” look of the heroin addicted rock star. Finally,
I will discuss the implications of this signification, and offer an explanation
of how it operates, what arguments it makes, and why it does so (which
is, predictably enough, so Calvin Klein can sell his products, but consciously
or not I think he was actually being a lot more radical than most people
really give him credit for).
Figure 1
Figure 2
Fig 3
Fig 4
When you think about
it, the whole move away from attempting to present a beauty ideal makes
sense for these advertisements. Most of them are coming from the
CK One series of advertisements, whose catch phrase is “a fragrance for
a man or a woman.” The ads capture this idea pictorially by blurring
the lines between their male and female models. Many of the females
have stereotypically masculine traits or features (or at least are lacking
traditional feminine characteristics) and are presented in masculine or
gender-neutral attire and poses, and vice-versa. A quick perusal
of the ads I’ve included for your viewing pleasure will demonstrate these
points.
Figure 1 is actually
a Calvin Klein Jeans ad, as you can see from the inset, and is a perfect
example of what we are discussing. Though it’s a little difficult
to see in the grayscale picture, both models have the same hair color,
the same general facial characteristics, the same skin tone, the same general
body shape, and the same type of jeans on. The only real clear difference
is that the woman is wearing a shirt, for fairly obvious reasons (no nude
photos in mainstream magazines), but even if she wasn’t, there wouldn’t
be too much difference in the chest either. Formally, the bodies
of the two models are aligned (both the bodies form diagonal lines from
the upper left down to the right), and to further erode clear cut gender
specific distinctions between them, the male model is portrayed with a
cocked hip, a typically feminine stance. The female model’s leaning
pose is gender-neutral, being a common trope in both male and female pictures.
Pictorially, they are almost exactly the same, and in fact if you imagine
the ladder between them as a dividing line, they almost become mirror images
of each other. Although their gazes are directed outwards towards
the viewer, it is laden with distance and disinterest, which suggests both
a lack of concern for the resultant confusion from seeing a picture that
is operating against traditional depictions of feminine and masculine traits,
and the drug-induced separation from everyday reality from a heroin high.
For, now, however, we’re focusing on the androgyny of the picture, and
will address the role of heroin a little later.
Figure 2 is taken
from the CK One series of advertisements (which will be my primary focus,
even though this general trend is apparent in several other series of ads
for Calvin Klein products and other companies such as Valentino and Versace).
We see again the combination of two rather androgynous models serving as
approximate mirror images of each other, challenging a clear distinction
between genders, and indeed between the two individual models themselves.
While the model on the right is clearly male, I’m not exactly sure if the
one on the left is male or female. There are several recurring elements
from the first photo in this picture: the fairly gender-ambiguous
models, similar facial shape, similar haircuts (while the one on the left
is longer, they both share an unkempt, shaggy look), gender-neutral clothes
(t-shirt, jeans, undershirt, and sneakers). Again, the models are
facing out towards the viewer with a dazed and distant look, suggesting
the ideas mentioned earlier, both an unconcern with our response to the
picture and drug use.
However, this photo adds
an additional twist by having the models embracing instead of simply serving
as mirror images. This introduces new complications into the reading
of this picture, namely forcing us to question how we should respond to
signs of physical affection and nearness between two people whose gender
remains ambiguous. We are not clear how to respond to the models
in general, and their embrace heightens this sense of confusion: should
we react as if it is a man and a woman embracing? two men? While there
are not set responses for either of these questions, the fact that we don’t
know which one we are supposed to be responding to adds to the overall
feeling of ambiguity within the picture. The embrace also causes
the bodies of the two models to overlap visually, which again pictorially
works to undercut an idea of separation or distinction between them.
This in turn reinforces their androgyny and our inability to assign them
specific, defined roles that we can comfortably respond to.
In the next two pictures,
there is a rhetorical move away from emphasizing the similarities of the
models and blurring their differences within the picture, though there
are definitely some vestiges of that technique. However, there is
now an apparent emphasis on the individual models challenging traditional
depictions of masculinity and femininity. In Figure 3., Jenny Shimizu
adopts many characteristics that we commonly associate with men and masculinity:
a buzz cut, a “wife-beater” tank top, a tattoo on the bicep, a thick ring
and belt, cuffed jeans, and work boots. The male model serves to
remind us how these attributes are typically utilized, both emphasizing
the similarities between them while preserving their individuality.
There are several similarities between the depictions of the two models;
they both are standing with their arms crossed, they both are wearing thick
leather belts, and they both have on a pair of dirty and wrinkled jeans.
The image of Shimizu suggests an allusion to idea of a “butch” lesbian,
a lesbian who either identifies as a male or embraces a masculine identity,
and this reference further emphasizes our inability to classify her into
a fixed, comfortable role. In a way, the CK One bottle between them
can serve as the line of symmetry or mirror in a manner similar to the
ladder in Figure 1. However, this picture also calls attention to
the individuality of the two models; one is Asian, while the other is Caucasian,
one has long hair and one has a buzz (the woman having the buzz, however,
contributes to the ambiguous and overlapping aspect of the picture), one
is in white while the other is in black.
This general theme--simultaneously
de-emphasizing traditional distinctions between the two models and asserting
their difference and individuality on another level-- is also apparent
in the next advertisement. Once again, there are some obvious similarities
between the models: they are both thin, they both are wearing black, and
we see the same sort of visual overlap as we did in Figure 2. However,
there are several other factors we need to be aware of. Tom Yen’s
arched back turned slightly to the side is a typical female pose, since
it serves to visually emphasize the chest and the butt, and his hand calling
attention to his crotch is also a familiar motif when using females in
advertising. In stark contrast, the female model is almost completely
covered up and is facing directly out with her head slightly raised and
her shoulder’s square, a typically masculine pose emphasizing the straight
lines and bulk of the body.
Both of these ads serve
to challenge the idea of traditional gender distinctions, but work to preserve
a sense of individuality and distinction between the models. The
ads try to emphasize what Judith Butler labels the “gender discontinuities
that run rampant within heterosexual, bisexual, and gay and lesbian contexts
in which gender does not necessarily follow from sex,” (Butler, 469)
This is accomplished by trying to emphasize similarities between male and
female models and presenting images such as the ambiguous embrace in Figure
2, the “butch” lesbian in Figure 3, and the highly effeminate Tom Yen in
Figure 4. Through these techniques, the “regulatory ideal [of gender]
is exposed as a norm and a fiction…only words, acts, gestures, and desires
produce the effect of an internal core or substance,” in this case the
illusion of an essential identity. (Butler, 468) The ad focuses our attention
on the fact that the “acts, gestures, and enactments” that we identify
as an absolute and unassailable gender identity are “performative in the
sense that the essence or identity that they purport to express are fabrications
manufactured and sustained through corporeal signs and other discursive
means.” (Butler, 469) In other words, the whole concept of an essential
gender identity is a construction and an illusion, the result of codifying
certain actions, mannerisms, and ideas. They only exist if we choose
to enact or perform them, which leaves it up to us to construct whatever
identity we choose for ourselves once we realize the artificiality of our
socially prescribed gender roles.
The ads concurrently present an
image of androgyny or gender-ambiguity, which serves to dissolve the distinctions
between the female and male models, and attempts to preserve distinctions
between the models on another level, such as race, clothing, hairstyle,
accessories, etc., a move that is closely related to Butler’s idea of the
essentially artificial nature of gender identities. What the Calvin Klein
ads seem to be suggesting is a move away from gendered identity while simultaneously
preserving a sense of individual distinction, a concept which fits in perfectly
with the product which they are attempting to sell in the ad. Through
all the statements that the ads make, they are attempting to remove gender
or any factors that are commonly considered “essential” aspects of your
identity and suggesting that you have to create an identity for yourself—and
that one thing that can help you do that is CK One, a cologne that challenges
the status quo ideas about what it means to be a man or a woman.
Of course, this raises the familiar problem of how you can viably
mass-market individuality, and I believe that the ads are aware of this
seemingly paradoxical problem when they emphasize the similarities between
the models. The message seems to be ‘Yes, of course in some ways
you’re going to be the same as everyone else (hopefully by using CK One),
but those sort of similarities really aren’t important, and at least you
should be using the brand that is aware of that fact and is trying to tell
you its okay to be whatever you want.’ (There seems to be some corroboration
for this general mindset in Calvin Klein’s later ads for CK Be, whose catch
phrase was “Just Be,” once again leaving what you should “be” open and
ambiguous). I would like to reiterate the point that the Klein ads
aren’t intentionally embracing post-structuralist feminism and that its
just one more marketing ploy to sell cologne, but inadvertently they
end up doing it anyways by highlighting the mutability and inessentiality
of gender as a defining factor in identity.
Now that we’ve established
how the ads work against traditional ideas of gender and fixed identity
within the ad, I’d like to turn to how their reference to heroin use takes
the criticism to a higher level. I’m not going to spend too much
time establishing a connection between the models in the advertisement
and heroin users, mostly because it is fairly common cultural knowledge
(hence the name “heroin chic,” which I am assuming is at least somewhat
familiar to you). However, we can briefly examine some pictures just
so you can rest assured that I am not just making it all up.
Figure 5 is a picture of three recovering
heroin addicts in a Moscow hospital. Since they have been clean for
several days (46, to be exact), some of the typical signs
Fig. 5
we associate with heroin addicts are noticeably absent, including the
completely dazed and disaffected, glassy-eyed stare (even though the two
girl on the left are looking pretty spacey) and the emaciated face and
body. However, all of them are still skinny, and I found this
picture particularly appropriate because several of the formal elements
from the Calvin Klein ads were also in this picture, particularly the short
hair, flat chests, and a visual overlap of the women. However, I
don’t believe that the ads are trying to really allude just any typical
heroin addict, but are instead meant to suggest the heroin glam rock stars
who were currently en vogue.
For example, let’s
take a picture of rock superstar and heroin addict Kurt Cobain (the lead
singer and guitarist for Nirvana, for those of you who were into Kriss
Kross and Hammer during the early 90’s). Fig. 6 is a pretty typical
photo of the king of grunge, and we can immediately see similarities to
the Calvin Klein ads, particularly Figure 2 and the male model in Figure
3. The shaggy, long hair, sunken eyes
Fig 6
Fig 7
looking outward but seemingly preoccupied and distant, the thin face
(I’m not sure how obvious it is in the reprint, but his cheekbones are
clearly visible in the original), are all reminiscent of some of the common
tropes that we observed in the Calvin Klein ads. We also have to
keep in mind that the rock star, particularly the heroin-addicted rock
star, often embodies gender ambiguity in its own right, which reinforces
the visual elements of this sort of departure from gender norms in the
ads. Kurt Cobain, Boy George, Scott Weiland, and David Bowie are
just a few of the rock stars who were both heroin-users and cross-dressers,
either occasionally (Cobain, Weiland) or regularly (like Boy George…David
Bowie’s sort of in a class of his own.) Fig. 7 gives you an example
of Cobain in drag, and he also appears all dolled up on Nirvana’s CD In
Utero.
I could offer several more examples of the gender-ambiguous,
heroin-addict rock star, but I think that you probably already know some
and get the picture. The next question we need to ask is ‘what does
this reference do?’ I believe that it furthers the idea of the fluidity
and instability of identity through the metaphorics of heroin use.
The introduction of heroin into the body causes both physiological and
psychological changes to a person, making it capable of actually transforming
the identity of its user. When we further analyze this idea, we see
that the use of heroin also challenges the traditional conception of a
fixed and stable identity by piercing (quite literally) the traditional
distinctions between mind, body, and the external world. This is
accomplished both in the physiological/psychological effects of heroin
on the body, and the actual process of administering the drug.
John Schlib’s essay
“Autobiography after Prozac” raises the question of how medication can
alter a person’s supposedly unshakable core identity, that it is capable
of “significantly altering the self.” (Schlib, 206) He discusses
how Prozac is able to “dramatically change patients’ personality…you take
it to treat a symptom, and it transforms your sense of self.” (205)
This general area of thought is known as psychological materialism, the
study of the ways that “cells, neurotransmitters, serotonin, and other
features of the body affect human thinking.” (203) The issue that
Schlib addresses, the changes in a person’s identity due to the use of
a drug, deconstructs the distinction between the physical brain and the
subject’s mind, and this problem is also relevant in the context of heroin
use.
The effects of heroin
occur simultaneously on a physical and psychological level. Heroin
is “an opiate derived from poppies…a painkiller that bathes the brain’s
receptors in endorphins, suffusing the mind and body in a warm, womblike
security.” Some other resultant effects that heroin has on users include
“drowsiness, respiratory depression, constricted pupils, and nausea.”
The most important aspect of it, which leads to its use and often abuse,
is the “intense feelings of euphoria” that it invokes both mentally and
physically. As ex-addict Steven Tyler, the lead singer from Aersosmith
puts it, heroin “was life without the anxiety…it’s a real floaty, godlike
trip…if the height of human experience is the orgasm, then this is certainly
second to it.” Note how terms relating to the mind and personality
(“without anxiety,” “godlike”) are used in conjunction with descriptions
of its physical effects (“floaty,” and its orgasmic nature). Yes, I know,
floaty is such a technical term, but the quote illustrates simply and succinctly
the point that I’m trying to make, that heroin dissolves the distinction
between body and mind because it is effecting both at once, and its effects
on the body are intertwined with its effects on the mind, and vice versa.
This breakdown is
made even more significant when it’s coupled with the actual administration
of heroin, particularly through injection. The intravenous (into the a
vein, “mainlining”) and subcutaneous (into the skin, “skin popping”) injection
literally breaks the alleged barrier between the body and the external
world. Butler claims that “the naturalized notion of “the” [a specific
and stable] body is itself a consequence of taboos that render that body
discrete by virtue of its stable boundaries.” (467, my emphasis)
She goes on to say that “any kind of unregulated permeability constitutes
a site of pollution and endangerment…to the discrete subject.” (467) The
example that she offers is homosexual activity between men, which involves
penetration of the male anus, part of the body which is scripted by culture
to be impermeable. Heroin use destabilizes the idea of a discrete
body even more because it makes just about any part of the body permeable
(addicts commonly inject in their arms, legs, hands, stomach, and feet)
and what crosses that barrier results in a significant physical and psychological
change for the user. It’s sort of a deconstructive double whammy.
It blurs the bounds between the external world and the body by injecting
heroin, an external fluid, into the blood, a bodily fluid. In this
way, external reality literally becomes part of the body. To
complicate this even further, the heroin then travels through the blood
to the brain (both aspects of the body) and instigates mental and physical
effects, problematizing the idea of clear boundaries between body and mind.
In this way, heroin use causes a certain fluidity and commingling of body,
mind, and external reality. Since this process is what the already
identity-ambiguous ads are referring to, the idea of a fixed identity is
further destabilized while at the same time injecting (excuse the pun)
the idea of complete and total pleasure into the picture, since this is
the primary effect of heroin use.
So what are the ads
ultimately suggesting? With the gender-ambiguous models and the references
to heroin, I believe we have a picture of a completely malleable and fluid
identity, one that is under control of the individual, and with the additional
signification of heroin use there is the idea of pure pleasure divorced
from bodily appearance or particular identity. I believe that the
advertisements offer CK One as something to fill a role similar to what
heroin is to the addict: something you can use to create and shape your
identity, something that becomes part of you even though it’s not specific
to you, something that is pleasurable to use. I do think that the
ads are attempting to sell their product through pleasure, but not through
the traditional means of sexualizing the models. Instead, it de-emphasizes
both the femininity and the masculinity of the models and uses them to
gesture towards something else: the pure, transformative pleasure of heroin.
In the process, it makes an argument against the very concept of a stable
and unchangable identity, which is a pretty impressive rhetorical move
for a magazine ad if you ask me. So next time you’re feeling disappointed
with yourself, remember that you don’t have a fixed identity, go buy a
bag of heroin or a bottle of CK One, and just be…whatever you want to be.
Bibliography
Ashley, Richard. Heroin: The Myths and Facts. St. Martin’s
Press, New York: 1972
Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of
Identity, rptd. in Feminist
Theory: A Reader. Mayfield Publishing, Mountain View: 2000.
Colapinto, John. “Heroin.” Rolling Stone. 1996. May 30. p. 15-20+.
Schlib, John. “Autobiography After Prozac,” rptd. in Rhetorical
Bodies. University of Wisconsin Press,
Madison: 1999.
Smith, David. It’s So Good, Don’t Even Try it Once. Prentice
Hall, New Jersey: 1972.
