She sat in the dark, the only light coming from the monitor. A single Skims bodysuit hung on the back of her chair—tag still attached, never worn. She’d bought it six months ago. Tried to return it. Never got her money back.

“The Skims brand,” she said, voice low, “is pretty much glorified Shein.”

She pulled up the website. Smooth curves. Neutral tones. The kind of minimalism that costs seventy dollars for a tank top.

“Kim Kardashian’s clothing brand is poor quality. It’s created in sweatshops, with workers struggling to get through life, using materials that are cancerous and dangerous to wear.”

She clicked through to the “About Us” page. No factory addresses. No labor certifications. No sustainability scores.

“There’s a reason why Skims refuses to disclose where their clothes are manufactured and how much their workers are getting paid.”

She leaned back.

“But Kim Kardashian’s luck is about to run out. Because her employees at Skims plan to file a class action lawsuit against Kim.”

She paused.

“This is the downfall of Skims. So let’s get into it.”

“We’re going to be talking about the truth about Kim Kardashian’s brand Skims,” she said. “Kimberly has some skeletons in her closet. And honestly? The brand is no better than Shein. Once I unveil the truth on what goes on at Skims, you’ll understand.”

She pulled up a headline: SKIMS TRUCK CAUGHT WITH 90KG OF COCAINE.

“Recently, the brand’s been making headlines for not great reasons. The employees are forming a class action lawsuit against Kim for unpaid wages. And then there’s the drug bust.”

She pulled up a mugshot—a man named Jacob, blank stare, orange jumpsuit.

“A guy named Jacob was driving a truck carrying 28 pallets of Skims clothing from the Netherlands when border officials stopped him. Jacob admitted he agreed to transport the drugs for $7,000 USD. Well, 4,500 euros. Same difference when you’re looking at thirteen years in prison.”

She pulled up the evidence photo—Skims garments laid out on a table next to brick after brick of wrapped white powder.

“Ninety kilograms,” she said. “Enough to—well, let’s just say it’s a lot.”

She scrolled to the company statement.

“Skims is aware of recent news involving a shipment with our products. We want to be clear that Skims had no knowledge whatsoever about this criminal activity.”

She read it twice, then shrugged.

“Look. I get it. No one wants Kim to be responsible for this more than me. I’d love to see her get done for it. But this doesn’t smack of the Kardashian MO. They move in more covert gray legal areas. This guy was just approached by a third party—‘Hey, you’re driving this truck, put this in there’—and he said yes for seven grand.”

She pulled up another headline.

“But Kim did know about some things. At least according to this lawsuit.”

She pulled up a legal filing. Plaintiff: David Knight. Job: warehouse worker.

“David claims he and other workers were not paid overtime despite working over eight hours a day and forty hours a week. No legally required meal breaks. No rest periods.”

She highlighted a line: “Defendants failed to provide accurate itemized wage statements.”

“He wants the court to certify a class action. That means potentially hundreds of employees.”

She pulled up Skims’ response.

“Skims denies these allegations. This is a boilerplate filing—the same recycled template plaintiff’s firms send to employers across California. They’re looking for a quick settlement. Skims is not going to bow down.”

She laughed once.

“Easy to say when your company is worth five billion dollars. Five billion. With a B. They could write a check tomorrow and never feel it. But they won’t. Because that would set a precedent.”

She pulled up a Reddit thread, already deleted but screenshot preserved.

*“Just quit Skims after being scolded for taking a mental health day. I’ve devoted my life to work—13-hour days, 6 days a week—and I couldn’t even take one day. I quit the moment I received that email.”*

She let that sit.

“That reminds me of an interview Kim’s co-founder did. M. The woman behind a lot of the Kardashian brands.”

She pulled up the clip.

“Work-life balance is your problem,” M said, smiling. “That’s yours to figure out. When somebody talks to me about work-life balance in an interview process, I’m like—something is wrong with you.”

She paused the video.

“She said if an applicant asks about work-life balance, she ends the interview instantly. Instantly.”

She pulled up the rest of the quote.

“The way we run organizations now is that no one misses a dentist appointment or a doctor’s appointment or a haircut or their kids’ parent-teacher conference.”

She stared at the screen.

“Easy to say when you own the company. When you have equity. When you’re worth nine figures. But for the warehouse worker making $18 an hour? For the single mom packing bodysuits in a non-air-conditioned building?”

She pulled up a comment from a former employee: “God forbid someone wants to live like a decent human being and not be a slave to companies day in and day out.”

Another: “I love it when rich people tell me to work more. Like I don’t have to worry about cooking, cleaning, childbearing because I can’t afford to offload that responsibility.”

She shook her head.

“That’s the first hinge. Work-life balance isn’t a red flag. It’s a human right. And the people denying it have never had to clock in and out of someone else’s dream.”

She pulled up a new tab. Where are Skims clothes made?

“Skims had to respond to allegations of abuse in Myanmar,” she said. “Between 2021 and 2022, they worked with factories there. Workers claimed they were being harmed. Overworked. Underpaid. Standard stuff for fast fashion—except Skims charges premium prices.”

She pulled up a map.

“Skims also manufactures in Bangladesh. At a factory called Shahi Intimates Ltd. That factory is part of the Bangladesh Accord—an agreement to keep garment factories safe. Skims did not sign the Accord.”

She pulled up the 2013 Rana Plaza disaster photo. The building collapsed. 1,134 workers died. Over 2,500 injured.

“That happened because factory owners ignored safety warnings. And Skims, a company worth billions, won’t sign a piece of paper that says ‘we promise not to let our workers die in a preventable collapse.’”

She pulled up Skims’ website. Their sustainability page.

“We ensure fair wages and a safe environment for our workers. We are committed to sustainability, transparency, and accountability.”

“Three sentences,” she said. “That’s it. No data. No third-party audits. No certifications.”

She pulled up the Corporate Accountability Report. A nonprofit that scores fashion brands on ethics, environment, and labor. Out of 150 possible points.

“Guess what Skims scored?”

She held up a zero.

“Zero. Because they disclose nothing. Brands like Fendi and Swarovski scored 51. Not great, but better than nothing. Skims is tied with Temu. Below Shein, who scored 6.”

She pulled up the expert quote: “SKIMS makes no attempt at transparency when it comes to its supply chain. Saying something doesn’t make it true. And because there’s a lack of regulation right now, there’s nothing to let consumers know what they say is true or not.”

She leaned in.

“They claim their packaging is compostable. The Changing Markets Foundation found plastic in it. They claim their clothes are made ethically. They won’t tell you where the factories are. They claim they care about workers. Their own employees are suing them for unpaid overtime.”

She pulled up the second hinge.

“Saying something doesn’t make it true.”

“And when you refuse to show your homework? We assume you failed.”

She pulled up a new lawsuit. A New York–based small clothing brand.

“They filed a federal lawsuit against Skims. Claiming Kim stole their trademark for the Fits Everybody collection.”

She pulled up the timeline.

“The small brand created their mark in 2015. Skims didn’t exist until 2019. The small brand sent warning after warning. ‘Hey, you’re using our name. Back down.’ Skims ignored them.”

She pulled up the USPTO filing. Skims tried to trademark Fits Everybody twice. Rejected twice. Because someone else already owned it.

“The Patent Office literally said—‘We will not issue this because of a likelihood of confusion.’ Kim knew. She went forward anyway.”

She pulled up the small brand’s lawyer statement.

“Trademark law doesn’t care about how big you are or how many followers you have. It cares about who was first. Our client was first. We asked them to stop almost two years ago. They refused.”

She pulled up the damages estimate.

“Between 700 and 900 million dollars. Almost a billion. And they want the court to block Skims from using the name entirely.”

She did the math.

“Skims is valued at five billion. Losing a billion is a problem. That’s twenty percent of the company. That’s not a rounding error. That’s a catastrophe.”

She pulled up another lawsuit. 2024. A California woman.

“She sued because Skims sent marketing texts outside of allowed hours. The TCPA—Telephone Consumer Protection Act—prohibits calls or messages to residential lines before 8 a.m. She got one at 6:01 a.m.”

She pulled up her own phone. Scrolled through texts.

“Earliest I got was 8 a.m. But I’m on the East Coast. For her? That’s 6 a.m. ‘Disrupting her peace,’ she said.”

She pulled up the New Jersey settlement.

“Clothing is tax-exempt in New Jersey. Skims charged tax anyway. Kept the money. They had to pay back $200,000 to settle.”

She pulled up the Attorney General’s quote.

“We’re holding Skims accountable. Their conduct harmed New Jersey consumers by requiring them to pay more than what they owed. We won’t tolerate that conduct as it unlawfully takes money out of the pockets of hardworking New Jerseyans.”

She smiled.

“Shout out to the New Jerseyans in the comments. And yes—some of you probably got a random PayPal refund from Skims. That’s why. They got caught.”

She pulled up a video of a customer. Frustrated. Holding a Skims box.

“Please explain to me how a return from December is still not refunded, and we are going into March? I ordered a strapless bra, received it December 9th, returned it December 12th. Every time I check the portal, the refund date moves. First January 12th, then January 27th, then February 9th, now February 27th.”

She paused.

“That’s not an isolated story.”

She pulled up another.

“Skims is refusing to refund me for a shirt I returned. I have a tracking number. It was delivered April 24th. Customer service says—‘Our warehouse received it, but it’s going to take time to process.’ Then they changed the story. ‘Actually, it was never received.’”

She pulled up a third.

“I told them—‘Confirm you refuse to refund me, and I’m going to my bank for a chargeback. This is fraudulent.’”

She set the phone down.

“This is basic stuff. You sell a product. Customer returns it. You give their money back. That’s not a value-add. That’s the minimum. And Skims can’t even do that.”

She pulled up a side-by-side. Skims tank top: $68. Shein tank top: $6. Same fabric composition. 92% nylon, 8% spandex.

“Shein is infamous for cheap synthetic fibers—polyester, spandex, nylon. Derived from petrochemicals. Chemicals that interfere with hormone signaling. Linked to reproductive issues, thyroid problems, and hormone-sensitive cancers.”

She paused.

“Skims uses the same materials. Nylon and spandex. The same petrochemicals. The same risks.”

She pulled up the nonprofit rating again. Zero out of 150.

“That’s not a bad score. That’s a zero. That means Skims does nothing. Discloses nothing. Cares about nothing except the margin.”

She leaned in.

“The third hinge. You can’t charge premium prices for fast fashion quality and slave labor ethics. At some point, people notice.”

She pulled up a final clip. Kim Kardashian, years ago, on a podcast.

“Get your f—ing ass up and work,” Kim said. “It seems like nobody wants to work these days.”

She paused the video.

“Before Kim gives advice to women in business, maybe she should pay the women who are making her clothes.”

She pulled up the Bangladesh factory photo. Women standing in rows. Sewing machines. No windows. No fire exits visible.

“These women don’t get work-life balance. They don’t get overtime pay. They don’t get refund portals or customer service emails. They get a wage that’s not even disclosed to the public because Skims refuses to be transparent.”

She pulled up a quote from the expert: “Fair wages aren’t necessarily the same as living wages. Living wages means a worker and their family can live a decent life. Skims doesn’t disclose either.”

She turned off the monitor for a second. Let the room go dark.

“I own Skims,” she said quietly. “Bought a bodysuit last year. Tried to return it. Never got my money back. Seventy-two dollars. Gone.”

She turned the monitor back on.

“Seventy-two dollars isn’t going to break me. But it’s not about the money. It’s about the principle. You don’t get to take my money, send me a product that doesn’t fit, and then ignore my emails while you fly on private jets and pose on magazine covers.”

She pulled up one last image—the evidence bag from the drug bust. Skims leggings in a clear plastic bag. Police label. Case number.

“That’s the symbol right there,” she said. “Skims in an evidence bag. Not because Kim is a drug lord. But because her brand is attached to everything ugly about fast fashion. Exploitation. Pollution. Fraud. And now, accidentally, cocaine.”

She laughed once.

“If that’s not a metaphor for the Kardashian empire, I don’t know what is.”

She pulled up a thread from a deleted Reddit post. A worker. A mental health day. An email that said “we need to discuss your commitment.”

“This person worked 13-hour days. Six days a week. They asked for one day off for their mental health. And they got scolded.”

She scrolled to the bottom of the thread.

“I quit the moment I received that email.”

She let that sit.

“That’s the real story of Skims. Not the celebrities wearing it. Not the Instagram ads. Not the five billion dollar valuation. It’s the people who sew the seams and pack the boxes and answer the customer service emails—who can’t get a refund processed, can’t get a meal break, can’t get a mental health day without being treated like a problem.”

She stood up. Walked to the camera.

“You want to buy Skims? That’s your choice. But don’t tell yourself it’s ethical. Don’t tell yourself the quality is worth the price. Don’t tell yourself Kim Kardashian cares about the women in Bangladesh the same way she cares about her own image.”

She picked up the bodysuit from the back of the chair.

“I’m not returning this. I can’t. They won’t let me. So it’s going to sit here. A reminder.”

She tossed it onto the desk.

“The downfall of Skims isn’t going to be one lawsuit. It’s going to be a thousand small cuts. A chargeback here. A bad review there. A worker who walks out. A small business that fights back and wins.”

She sat back down.

“And when it happens? Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

She reached for the mouse.

“Comment below if you’ve ever tried to return something from Skims and got ghosted. I want to see how many of us are out there.”

She hovered over the stop button.

“And Kim? If you’re watching? Pay your workers. Sign the Accord. Disclose your factories. And for the love of God—hire a customer service team that actually responds.”

She clicked.

Red light.

Dark.