Kim Kardashian knows how to turn heads, but even someone with her experience and flair was taken aback by the reaction to her shapewear brand’s latest stunt. Her company, Skims, has long been recognized for pushing boundaries—not simply in how clothes fit, but in how they make statements—and their unveiling of thongs adorned with faux pubic hair is generating headlines that even Kardashian herself admits surprised her.
Skims first made waves in the apparel industry through what might, at first glance, seem like straightforward expansions of intimates and outerwear: plunging nipple bras, hip‑enhancing padded shorts, foundational underwear, athletic staples, and loungewear. Yet behind those items lies a brand strategy that gleans as much attention for its playful provocations as it does for functional design. The micro‑string thongs with faux hair mark the most recent example: a piece so audacious that it’s not just about wearing underwear—it’s about wearing a commentary.
At the premiere of her legal drama All’s Fair on October 16, Kardashian told E! News that she was “shocked” by the response. The product—which came in 12 variations of hair style and color, from straight to curly textures—sold out quickly. On her Instagram, where she commands over 350 million followers, she wrote: “How funny are these? We have different colors, different hair. This is insane. Skims, baby.” The brand’s own announcement declared: “With this iconic new panty, your carpet can be whatever color you want it to be!” With that tagline, Skims transformed underwear into something performative—quirky, cheeky, attention‑seeking, and utterly part of the conversation.
Of course, the fake‑hair thong is not an isolated incident in Skims’ trajectory of boldness. Earlier, the brand gained notoriety with collagen‑yarn face wraps marketed as holding your face firm before you “snatch” your chin—products that doctors promptly dismissed or criticized for their lack of medical credibility. The campaign stirred confusion and conversation in equal measure. Skims has also branched into more conventional activewear, including a collaboration with Nike launched just last month. Called NikeSkims, the collection rolled out three core activewear lines and four seasonal collections, designed for everything from strength training to daily motion to lounging. The campaign featured athletes such as Serena Williams, Sha’Carri Richardson, Jordan Chiles and Chloe Kim endorsing the line—grounding the brand in legitimate performance credentials even as it flirts with the theatrical.
It is fascinating how Skims manages to straddle the line between serious fashion and theatrical provocation. The faux‑hair thong, for example, can be read through multiple lenses: as a clever marketing ploy, as a tongue‑in‑cheek commentary on body hair politics, as a playful accessory, or even as a satire of how much we expect underwear and intimate apparel to do for us—both practically and emotionally. Whether the wearer sees it as archetypal rebellion or ironic whimsy, the statement remains unmistakable: this is underwear that sparks conversation.
Kardashian’s candid acknowledgment of her own reaction underscores how even those at the helm of the brand were surprised by just how much attention the product would draw. “We’ve been laughing and talking about it all day long,” she said—but also, implicitly, the company was prepared for something big. A sell‑out quickly after launch confirms that there was demand—not only for the product, but for what it symbolized. People didn’t buy just because it was underwear; they bought because it delivered something to talk about.
This moment sits within a larger cultural context: we live in an age where clothing is not just about utility, or even style—though those remain important—but about identity, performance, and voice. Brands are no longer safe in the background; they are expected to have stories, to provoke reactions, to tap into the zeitgeist. Skims seems to understand this deeply. With the faux‑hair thong, they’re asking: what if underwear could be absurd? Could it also be deeply personal? Could it spark debate about the norms of grooming and representation? Could it be flashy (or ridiculous) and still sell? Apparently yes.
At the same time, the brand’s other moves show a duality: yes, the whimsical, viral‑worthy pieces; and yes, the serious activewear collaboration that appeals to athletes and to the notion of performance. The NikeSkims partnership is far from purely provocative—it signals the brand’s intent to be taken seriously by people who work out, train, run errands, sleep in, lounge. By aligning with top‑tier athletes, Skims extends its reach beyond novelty into credible functional wear. That credibility may help underpin and buffer the more theatrical releases, meaning the brand can pivot between ultra‑practical and ultra‑playful without losing coherence.
What’s interesting too is how the brand engages with its audience. By launching something cheeky—literally—and letting it sell out, the message becomes: you are in on the joke, the show, the surprise. It reminds one somewhat of limited‑edition drops that create scarcity, buzz, and social media chatter. But it’s not just scarcity; there’s a commentary. The very phrase “your carpet can be whatever color you want it to be,” used in the marketing, evokes a kind of self‑ownership, a remixing of cultural norms around body hair, and perhaps a wink at aesthetic expectations. It’s irreverent. It doesn’t wait for permission. It jumps straight into the cultural register of body politics—perhaps not in an overt activism mode, but certainly in a mode of disruption.
The timing of this piece, and its immediate sell‑out, tells us something about contemporary consumer behavior. Even in the realm of underwear—often an unseen or private matter—consumers are increasingly keen to express something bold, to share something surprising, to buy not just a product but an idea. In doing so, brands like Skims benefit not only financially but socially: the talking‑point becomes part of the value. Each purchase could catalyze a post, a photo, a conversation. From the consumer’s perspective, performance of identity is part of the wear‑and‑tell process.
It also illustrates how a star‑led brand like Skims, anchored in Kardashian’s massive social media presence, can shape discourse simply by making something unexpected. The life‑cycle from announcement to sell‑out can now happen in a matter of hours or days—thanks to digital platforms, influencer culture, and built‑in audience. The product becomes less about the fabric and cut and more about the moment, the social media splash, the cultural ripple. And for a brand that has built itself as much on visibility as on product, that is a powerful tool.
What’s more, the layering of tradition and novelty in Skims is worth noting. The brand still sells “standard” underwear, outerwear, activewear. But by anchoring in that baseline and then launching the absurd, the contrast becomes meaningful. It’s like telling your audience: yes, we understand basics—and yes, we can surprise you. The fake‑hair thong doesn’t stand alone as a gimmick; it stands best when flanked by a broader collection that covers everyday needs. That breadth gives the brand resilience: when the spotlight moves on (as it always does), there is a foundation of staple items that continue to sell. Meanwhile, the occasional bold drop keeps the brand culturally relevant.
In a way, you might consider Skims as a reflection of our era’s appetite for the unexpected. In times when attention is currency, to “win” you need more than just good quality—you need to show up, you need to provoke. And in the world of underwear—where utility and invisibility often reign—introducing faux pubic hair takes invisibility to the opposite extreme. Suddenly what’s hidden becomes the billboard. What’s private becomes public spectacle. And that shift is exactly where Skims wanted to play.
One might also ask: does this product have staying power, or is it simply a moment? The quick sell‑out suggests it achieved its mission—buzz, visibility, sales. Whether it becomes a long‑term staple or more of a collector’s piece remains to be seen. But even if it fades, the cultural signal remains: this is what Skims is about now. Not just underwear—but underwear that talks, that jokes, that pokes, that gets shared. If the aim is to keep people looking, talking, posting, then tick that box.
This launch aligns with key elements of what has made Kardashian’s brand such an interesting case study: the intersection of media, celebrity, product, and culture. She’s not simply the face; her massive Instagram following gives her a megaphone. The brand knows how to leverage that—both for the serious collaborations (e.g., NikeSkims) and the playful ones (fake-hair thongs). The message is: we’re both in on the joke and serious about our craft. We can do high‑performance sportswear; we can do underwear that raises eyebrows. That flexibility gives Skims an edge.
Yet there is also an element of risk—not every consumer is going to love faux pubic hair on underwear. Some may see it as a gimmick, or as trivializing body‑hair conversations. Some may be perplexed or even put off. But perhaps the brand factors that in: the goal is not universal appeal, but maximal effect among those who respond. The resulting discussions—tea in fashion media, social feeds buzzing, commentators writing thought‑pieces—function as free advertising. The fact that Kardashian herself called it “insane” and “funny” further humanizes the brand: she’s not above being surprised by her own drop, and that self‑awareness maybe makes the brand feel more relatable, more fun.
In short, the Skims faux‑hair thongs do more than just cover the bodies of those who buy them—they advertise something. They advertise that underwear can be audacious. They advertise that a celebrity brand can still surprise. They advertise that in an era of endless consumption and scrolling, the brand that stops you—even for a cheeky photo—is one worth watching.
Looking ahead, this moment may signal a shift in how intimates brands approach surprise drops. If a thong can spark headlines, what else can? How will consumers respond when the novelty wears off? Will we see imitators or brand‑extensions of this idea? And how will Skims balance between its shock‑value items and its everyday essentials? For now, though, the brand wins at conversation. It pulls out something wild, people talk, posts are made, sell‑out happens. That’s a formula that may not last forever—but while it lasts, it delivers.
For Kardashian, this episode underscores her continuing relevance—not just as a reality‑TV star, or as a fashion figure, but as a brand‑maker who knows how to leverage attention. The faux‑hair thong may seem absurd at first glance, but what it really does is bang the drum of identity and ownership: you choose the “carpet,” you choose the color, you choose the texture—on your terms. Subtext? Maybe it’s about owning your body, embracing the unexpected, and refusing to let norms dictate everything. In that sense, the thong is less about underwear, more about agency.
So yes: “Kim, and baby Skims,” are laughing and talking about it. But the rest of us are talking too. And in the business of fashion, that means they’ve hit their mark.
