Sex tapes, surgery shocks and social media scraps helped to make the Kar-Jenners America’s first family – but that all seems low stakes when compared to the recent storms surrounding the clan.
In recent months they’ve been accused of ‘obscene privilege’, an ‘ignore her’ campaign targeted Kim’s social posts and boycotting her clothing brand, Skims, became a battle cry for anti-Trumpers.
Now, as the sixth season of their scripted reality show, The Kardashians, launches on Disney+, their superpower of using attention to further their fame appears to be dimming. Even in a cultural landscape where attention is now more valuable than ever, they seem unable, or unwilling, to wield it like they once did.
The Kardashians may have cemented their status as icons, but are they still relevant? Not like they once were.
Since Keeping Up With The Kardashians arrived on our screens in 2007, much has changed. Culture now eschews full-glam perfection in favour of mess, awkward is in and anything that doesn’t feel 100% authentic tends to flop.
Fame has evolved too as the new set of reality stars, often birthed on TikTok, lean into unfiltered intimacy and lay-it-all-out-there transparency. Creators like Brittany Broski and Victoria Paris have cultivated huge and loyal followings by capitalising on their authenticity. Kim Kardashian’s heir apparent in the being-famous-for-being-famous league is not one of her daughters, but one of TikTok’s biggest stars, Alix Earle.
The New Jersey content creator has built a fan base of millions by perma-posting her life in a way that feels far more real than the scripted reality format and extreme use of photoshop that pushed Kris, Kourtney, Kim, Khloe, Kylie and Kendall into our collective consciousness.
While Earle’s fans are deeply invested in her journey from nobody to star, the Kardashians are not longer striving for much at all.
Joining the billionaire class has been both a win and a loss for the family. Their vast wealth – estimated to be between $2-3 billion – is now a stick that’s used to beat them and regularly prompts PR nightmares.
When Wicked stars Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo hosted an early screening of the much-anticipated movie at Kim’s home cinema weeks before its release fans slammed the decision describing them as ‘icky billionaires’.
One commenter said that ‘not one person in your family deserved this,’ while others were upset that a less privileged family wasn’t selected for the treat.
The response chimes with a shift in how many view elites in the era of wealth inequality, class consciousness, the Eat the Rich movement and Luigi Mangione fandom.
Capitalism is far from cool and yet the Kardashians keep on pumping out brands. Their empire, which includes the fashion lines Skims, Good American and Khy, supplement products from Lemme, the canned vodka drink Sprinter and tequila brand 818, as well as the beauty lines Kylie Cosmetics and SKKN BY KIM, shows that there’s very little the family won’t monetise.
It’s also meant the Kar-Jenners are constantly hawking something, resulting in their show and social content feeling like a QVC spin-off.
Not only are the Kardashians giving corporate, they’ve left fans with little that’s personal to root for. Years back Khloe’s revenge body journey, Kourtney’s messy marriage and Kim’s attempts to be taken seriously in fashion had viewers hooked but they’ve failed to create any gripping jeopardy in the plot lines of their lives since.
They’d be wise to take notes from Beyoncé or Taylor Swift, who despite their billionaire status have mastered the art of maintaining an underdog narrative. Both women have leaned on enemies, and snubs and articulated missions to right wrongs. In turn, they’ve both galvanised fan support, respect, and, crucially, relevance.
For the Kardashians, their main motivation appears to be a money grab. That’s a negative in and of itself but it’s also likely made them risk-averse as they embrace their mogul era. Being a boss, and being taken seriously in business, generally means distancing oneself from chaos which renders their tried and true strategy of controlled controversy redundant.
Where once physical fights, feuds and audio leaks grabbed headlines, now scandals come in the form of backlash to their beliefs and status, with Kim becoming a particular target.
Last month, on the day of Trump’s inauguration, she posted a picture of his wife, Melania, to Instagram Stories without a caption. It was taken by detractors as a sign of her support for the MAGA movement and it led to her losing hundreds of thousands of followers and calls to boycott Skims.
Before that, in December, Kim was picked alongside Dance Moms star turned pop singer, JoJo Siwa, as a celebrity who needed to be ignored. The internet campaign, led by viewers who wanted to highlight the power of withholding attention, saw her TikTok comments section bombarded with remarks like ‘stick to the plan’ in a bid to diminish her influence.
Yet, despite their best efforts, Kardashian critics haven’t come close to bringing them down. After eighteen years they’re too embedded in our culture to be cancelled. Like the British royals or the Kennedys they will endure. They even have the chance to revive their relevance, as like all dynasties the next generation offers a chance to tell another story.
North West is the most well-known of Kris Jenner’s grandchildren. As the daughter of Kim and Kanye West and with her media career already activated the 11-year-old is the one to watch.
But there’s also Mason Disick, 15, Penelope Disick, 12, and ten others waiting in the wings. Kris’ kids just need to cling on for a few more years and then their offspring, armed with a fresh perspective, may be able to reboot the brand.
Whether they can make the family relevant again is to be seen, until then Kim and co would do well to find a way out of their billionaire bubble.
Rachel Richardson writes the trends and culture newsletter highly flammable on Substack.
As the attention economy peaks, can the Kardashians keep up?
