Eternity: Cleaning Up The Eighties with Calvin

Christy Turlington, saddled with motherhood, daydreams of a night out at Studio 54

For a long time, I regarded Calvin Klein's Eternity as its own sort of stand alone monolithic entity.  In my mind, it sat on its own somewhere, out of context.  It was so all over the place during the time of its release and for several years afterward and was such a brilliantly art-directed phenomenon that it seemed more like a cultural attitude than a scent.  You smelled it everywhere, on everyone.  It seemed so definitively of its time, yet it wasn't anything particularly new (Tania Sanchez has remarked how closely it resembled an earlier Caron, which itself was pretty traditionally floral; a little stuffy, even) and in fact it essentially took an older form, the dowdy floral bouquet, and shoved it into the big shouldered stance so popular in the eighties.

Sophia Grojsman, the perfumer behind Eternity, was of course the go-to woman for this kind of treatment.  She'd done Paris, the quintessential neon floral, several years earlier, and excelled at pumping up the volume without sacrificing density.  Her fragrances of that time were loud without being shrill.  No one has really matched Grojsman in terms of radiance.  Her fragrances, especially the scents she created between the mid eighties and the mid nineties, were radiant to the point of radio-activity, translating the baroque intensity of classical perfumery represented by a fragrance like Bal a Versailles in a uniquely contemporary way.  A Grojsman fragrance took over the senses in a way very few eighties scents, as loud and bombastic as they were, managed to do.  They were powerful but because of their radiance felt buoyant rather than heavy.

Obsession, which came out in 1985, was really Calvin Klein's first massive success in fragrance.  Obsession was one of the heaviest of the heavies, as dark, deep and mysterious as Eternity was bright, buoyant and straightforward.  Even the ads for Obsession were dark: dimly lit scenes viewed through screens and colored filters.  Josie Borain was the perfect model for the Obsession campaign, and really the first sign of Klein's still unparalleled brilliance at creating powerful associative images and personas which brought his fragrances vividly to life in the imagination.  Borain was the athletic-to-the-point-of-boyish Calvin Klein consumer wandering into the exotic oriental territory of Obsession.  The ads depicted her sensual saturation in a nocturnal  world of hedonistic abandon, emphasis on random couplings and sweat.  Obsession was Klein's mass-market version of the often anonymous nightlife excesses popular among the early eighties Studio 54 celebrity demimonde.

Sniff my Sillage, Baby

So often I read comments by fellow perfume fanatics on various blogs and forums that they don’t want the scent of their perfume to offend others. Most seem extremely sensitive and wary of anyone being able to smell their perfume, their sillage (aka scent trail) AT ALL. It seems that it’s now considered rude for anyone to smell your perfume except you. Perhaps that’s why L’Artisan is doing so well. Because surely, unless you have your nose stuck to your wrist, even you won’t smell a thing while wearing L’Artisan.

Oh, I sort of get it. I had a former colleague, who wore Giorgio, and she over applied it, to the point that her office perpetually wreaked of Giorgio as if she had sprayed the walls with it. I’ve also experience Calvin Klein Eternity on the subway, when the train had broken down, and the AC stopped, in the middle of July, and all of us passengers were cramped in that subway car like sardines with someone who must have mistakenly spilled an entire bottle of Eternity on herself (I had to think it was a mistake). So, yeah, I get it, it can be awful to be overcome by someone else’s perfume.

I’m *not* talking about over application. I’m addressing simple ordinary sillage. I absolutely want sillage from my perfume. I want individuals who enter my office to get a light whiff of my perfume. I want those who ride in the car with me, those seated right next to me, to smell my perfume. I wanted the person standing next to me in the elevator get a whiff. Call me crazy, call me rude, call me whatever you want, but I will not wear perfume that doesn’t have sillage. Without a doubt I wear perfume for myself. I wear perfume that I like, but I also unabashedly wear perfume so that others think I smell good (you can insert sexy, nice, unusual, smokin’, mysterious, in place of “good” depending on the day).

If a perfume is strong with mega-sillage, then I apply it lightly. I’d much rather have the issue of too much sillage, and adjust to a lighter application, than too little sillage, leaving me to douse myself to smell a damn thing. Take Lou Lou by Cacharel for instance. The past week I’ve had a Lou Lou reunion. Lou Lou has amazing sillage and longevity. The fact that I adore the scent of Lou Lou coupled with its tenacity and sillage means I think Lou Lou rocks the free world. Other good examples are Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur and Carnal Flower – props to Malle for these creations. Keiko Mecheri’s Loukhoum, while ethereal and delicate, is a beautifully tenacious juice – props to Ms. Mecheri for creating a sillage sensation. I could go on and on but you get the point.

Bottom line: I hope this over-sensitivity to fragrance doesn’t get any worse and in the meantime ~ sniff my sillage, baby.