On an autumnal Tuesday evening, narcoleptic prophet and dad Kanye West received a message from the heavens (translation: he had a thought) and released it into the world.
He didn't know it, probably because he conked out right after, but a girl wrist-deep in body-plumping cream and "dragon's blood" serum had already beaten him to the punch.
That girl is me, and this is the story of how I spent a whole week using, wearing, and consuming almost nothing but Kardashian/Jenner-endorsed products. I went method Kardashian, contemplated identity, and got so #highonlyfe I could feel my atoms vibrating.
First things first: the rules. I decided that, for this little bit of stunt journalism to be interesting, I could only use items marketed and manufactured by the Kardashians—I called in more than 30 total, including fashion, beauty, tech, and mind-altering beverages.
Topline observations after seven days: My hair got better, but considering the tumbleweed/mushroom chimera I started with, I'd be surprised if it didn't. My skin got worse (probably from not drinking as much water as usual because of the *other* things I was drinking—more on that in a minute). My waist didn't get any tinier because the trainer restricted my brain activity, so I had to give it up because I needed all my mental faculties to cover #milkshakesquirrel. And my energy level became a thing of wonder to my colleagues—every jolt and jitter was thoroughly documented and commented on in our group chat. (Thanks, guys.)
Hype was probably what I was most interested in/afraid to try (you know it: the drink that once made Kim Kardashian hallucinate that she was Audrey Hepburn and Marie Antoinette). I kept a diary so that, in the event of my death, you would all have a record of what happened:
11:37 a.m. First two sips. I don't know if this is psychosomatic, but I already feel speedy.
11:38 a.m. Not imagining it. The thingy on my Apple Watch says my heart rate is at 74 BMP, which is up eight beats from what it was at 11:35 a.m. So...I guess it's working?
11:47 a.m. I set the can aside. Maybe two sips is enough.
12:15 p.m. I still sense its presence.
12:27 p.m. Typetypetypetypetype.
12:45 p.m. "I CAN FLYYYY!!!!!" *faceplants*
What was a bit intense for me, a non-coffee-drinker who goes full-on Hammy after one cup of PG Tips, may be a normal day's jolt for an energy-drink fan. But quite a lot of involuntary and obvious body movements happened during the test period, which violates what I imagine is Kardashian Kommandment #495: "Thou shalt not think 'shrink wrap'—thou shalt be shrink wrap." (You know, because of Kris's firming lotions and Kim's/Khloe's/Kourtney's/Kendall's/Kylie's body-con clothes.)
Which is a good segue: Of all the crop tops, pencil skirts, and rib-knit Naked Wardrobe I wore this week, the loosest thing was a $160 NBD dress Kendall and Kylie both have. It was cute. It was short—definitely too short for the office, but then again I work at a fashion magazine, so #anythinggoes.
Kendall, Kylie, and a weird girl watching 'Law Order.
Contrary to the old saying, I didn't actually have to suffer for beauty this week—in fact, the stuff I used from Kris's, Kourtney's, and Kylie's regimens was 👌, even if they weren't exactly right for me. The Kardashians know hair, so you can't go wrong with pretty much anything from their namesake line, but the dry conditioner (so on-trend), black seed dry oil, and the rose-gold hair dryer are the true standouts. I've got to ask, though: If they're using so much moisturizing skincare like Philosophy Ultimate Miracle Worker (one of the most blendable SPF formulas I've ever used) and the chock-full-of-hyaluronic-acid Nip+Fab serum, HOW ARE THEY SO MATTE?
Anyway, by the end of the week, I'd started to get what this stuff is all about: Put together a profile of the K Squad, and you'll find that these are defiant, disciplined women who would willingly wear flat-pack vacuum bags with the air suctioned out because that's how proud they are—as they should be—of their hard-won bodies. They refuse to kowtow to time (Kris's and Kylie's anti-aging products), to indulgence (the waist trainer), to genetics (their 28,384 hair-taming products), to sleep (the Lyfe Tea and the Hype), to anything that undermines their ability to be whoever they want.
There's something noble about keeping up a fight you know you're eventually going to lose, but what I've learned after this week is that they don't think that way—because they don't have to. They've defied everything (nature, a nay-saying culture) to become our reigning kweens of pop culture. They can do whatever they hell they want, and I may just hang onto some of the tools they use to do it.
Would buy:
1. The lace version of an impressively well-cut Kardashian Kollection jumpsuit that got me as many compliments as that one time I wore a red-carpet gown everywhere, $80, shopdashonline.com.
2. Kardashian Beauty Black Seed Dry Oil, $16.49, ulta.com.
3. NBD dress, $160, revolveclothing.com.
4. Kardashian Beauty Premium Finish Hair Dryer, $89.99, target.com.
5. Estée Lauder Little Black Primer, $24, sephora.com.
Mmmm maybe not:
Hype
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