Kardashian Konniption: Kim, Skims and the Kardashian Empire

It is human nature to bow down to a deity — a greater power, some sort of religious figure that is greater than us all, one to be revered. These figures have massive amounts of influence and model expectations for the people of their country or spirituality to follow. In modern times, particularly in secular countries, this quite often takes place in the form of royalty or celebrity. In England, there is the monarchy, figureheads that provide aspirations of regality and formality. Royal families exist across the European Union, not necessarily in the form of remnants of monolithic power but rather as a concentration of wealth and prosperity. In the United States, there is no monarchy. However, in terms of power and opulence, there is an undisputed royal family, and they are none other than the Kardashians. 

The Kardashians are everywhere, and their influence is completely omnipresent and undeniable. All five of the sisters fall within the top 25 most followed Instagram accounts. Kylie Jenner’s baby announcements broke records of most liked Instagram photos multiple times (albeit for the all-powerful World Record Egg). The premiere of “The Kardashians” was Hulu’s biggest series premiere in history. Yet, their influence and power strays from being purely in the digital sphere. The sisters each get invited to the Met Gala every year. A Kylie billboard, one that has content that changes with the month, sits atop Sunset Boulevard. Every single sister has a brand of content or product of some sort, and one of the most prevalent companies is Kim’s clothing brand, Skims. 

Skims was launched in 2019 with its emphasis lying in shapewear. The brand rose in popularity, and thus the variety of their clothing rose to match. The brand, with sizes that go up to 5X and bylines often reading “fits everybody,” heralds inclusivity as a marker of their brand. Most importantly, as the Kardashian frame became the ubiquitous body shape for girls and women everywhere to aspire to, Skims made that feasible — somewhat.  

I placed my first Skims order a few weeks ago. Any and everyone I knew who had ordered products from the website swore by Kim’s clothing products that were said to be designed to make you look and feel good, even in loungewear. I ordered a few of her products, one of which was a gray cotton tank top, which, as listed in its description, has an “Added bonus: it hits right at the natural waist for a no-fuss, no-tuck fit.” And indeed it did. I ogled myself in the mirror as what seemed like a simple gray tank top somehow managed to fit me nearly like shapewear, in a way that typically only form-fitting, spanx-like material accentuates my body. The company that seemed too good to be true truly was that fucking good. 

But then I began thinking more — thinking of the implications of purchasing and wanting to purchase such a clothing item. Why is it that when lounging in my house, typically when I only see people I trust, if even anyone at all, I feel a need to be presentable and attractive? Perhaps it’s unfortunately my internalized male gaze. Perhaps it’s remnants of raging body dysmorphia. Perhaps both, but more likely than not, it’s because of figures like the Kardashians and brands like Skims, which as a result create the want and need for perfect performance of beauty and desirability. The perfect performance that is only, of course, actually accessible to such a royal family.  

In the seventh episode of the second season of “The Kardashians,” Khloe quips, “Kim, you tailor your underwear.” Despite what Skims may lead one to believe and want the consumer to feel, it simply propagates a false narrative of what is to be expected of physical appearance. They advertise sleek, effortless beauty, when in reality, every aspect of the Kardashians’ outward appearance has been meticulously curated and calculated. Even in the house, one must have their undesirable features tucked in and form-fitted to perfection for reality TV cameras and Instagram stories. We are set to believe that what we see on screen is the truth, but in reality, their appearances could not be further from effortless. 

Clothing should make one feel good, comfortable in one’s skin. That Skims tank top certainly does make me feel sleek and comfortable. Yet, I wish this desire weren’t so strong and weren’t so complimented by the suave gray tank top designed by Kimberly to make me love myself, particularly when in a shapewear-esque top. Of course, the Kardashians are not free from the punishment of the male gaze and unrealistic body standards. However, it’s difficult to sympathize with women who perpetuate such standards, ones who openly talk about losing 16 pounds to fit in a dress, who publicly fat shame and who do little to address the negative impact of their sphere of influence.