Just Let Them Eat Popcorn

Have we finally reached Kardashian fatigue?

Have we finally reached peak Kardashian?

Nearly a decade ago, Kim Kardashian posed on the cover of Paper Magazine with the now-infamous line: "Break the Internet." And maybe she did. But now, the question is—have the Kardashians finally broken us?

Because we're tired.

Not the "scrolled too long before bed" kind of tired, but the deep, soul-level exhaustion that comes from a decade of oversaturation. Of products. Of privilege. Of popcorn.

Yes, I'm talking about Khloé Kardashian's popcorn launch at Target, where she dragged an entourage to a store most treat like a sanctuary from chaos.What we got wasn’t connection. It was spectacle—designed to look relatable while being anything but.

Case in point: Kim recently posed on a Tesla Cybertruck next to a humanoid robot—as if she's starring in a luxury AI dystopia none of us asked for. The backlash? Predictable. Because... read the room.

Meanwhile, eggs are $6. Rent is unhinged. Roe v. Wade has been overturned. People are being pulled off the streets and deported without due process. Millions are on the brink of losing social services. Basic healthcare? A luxury.

We’re not just living in different tax brackets—we’re living in different realities.

And honestly? I don’t think they even notice.

The Empire is Cracking

We’ve spent the past decade swimming in Kardashian-branded everything: SKIMS, SKKN, Good American, Kylie Cosmetics, Poosh, 818 Tequila, and now Khlōud Protein Popcorn. The list keeps growing, and our patience keeps shrinking.

What started as savvy brand-building now feels like saturation for saturation’s sake. A family that once defined the zeitgeist is now chasing it—recycling aesthetics, chasing virality, and launching products that feel increasingly out of touch with how people actually live.

This isn’t just about fatigue. It’s about diminishing returns.

The more they try to dominate every shelf, every scroll, and every storyline, the more obvious it becomes:
The culture has moved on.
And the empire? It’s starting to crack.

Kim, People Are Dying

@kardskatchup"Kim, there's people that are dying" 🤣 #kuwtk #kimkardashian #keepingupwiththekardashians #funny #thekardashians

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You’d think my breaking point would’ve been the Nike x SKIMS announcement. But it was popcorn. Watching Khloé parade a full production team through Target to film her “relatable” shopping moment felt like performance art about privilege. A billionaire cosplaying as a bargain hunter while actual families are struggling to afford groceries.

And the choice of Target made it worse. This is a brand still reeling from Pride backlash, facing boycotts for rolling back DEI commitments. It’s a loaded space. The optics? Couldn’t have been more off if they tried.

Kim’s Perfect Magazine shoot dropped the same week Elon Musk was in the news for slashing federal programs and laying off 260,000+ workers. In the aftermath, critical services were gutted while Kim posed with robots.

Most recently, Kim took to Instagram to call the Los Angeles ICE raids “inhumane.” But the sentiment landed flat. After years of public coziness with high-profile Republicans, the sudden concern felt, at best, selective. As one commenter put it: “She only speaks up when it serves her best interests.”

Add Bezos’ space jaunts to the mix, and it all starts to look like a billionaire Hunger Games. The ultra-rich are literally launching themselves into orbit while the rest of us are deciding if we can afford eggs this week.

The gap between their world and ours? It’s not a gap anymore. It’s a canyon.

Times Are A-Shifting

This is about more than vibe shifts. It’s about trust erosion.

Aspirational brands are collapsing under the weight of their own artifice. Consumers? They’ve evolved.

About 75% of Gen Z and Millennials now say they’d rather support brands that feel real—not ones chasing trends. They’re over the polish. They’re skipping the celebrities. They want creators who actually live the life they post—not stage it.

You can see it in the numbers. The latest season of The Kardashians? Crickets. A faint ripple compared to the cultural tidal wave their shows once created. It’s not just that people are tired—it’s that they’ve moved on.

Even the fashion world seems to be saying the quiet part out loud. Rumor has it Rihanna didn’t want the Kardashians at the 2025 Met Gala. That’s not just a snub. That’s a statement.

The Girlboss Hangover

This Kardashian burnout isn’t just about them—it’s part of a bigger shift I’ve written about before: the death of the girlboss era.

Just like we got tired of being told to “lean in” while the system stayed broken, we’re over being sold empowerment by people who’ve never once worried about the cost of gas.

There was a time when the Kardashians were the culture. They shaped trends, set standards, and turned influencer marketing into an empire. Kim’s brand deals dominated headlines. Kylie built a billion-dollar beauty business. Even Kris became a meme and a mogul.

But that era is over.

Even their closest collaborators seem to know it. According to Puck, the Grede family—the business brains behind SKIMS and Good American—are quietly broadening their portfolio beyond the Kardashian name.

Because eventually, a personal brand stops scaling when the public stops buying.

The Popcorn Moment

Back to Target.

There’s something about the popcorn launch that felt like a tipping point. It wasn’t just the popcorn. It was what it ignored.

Someone, somewhere, thought this was how to connect with people—in a store caught in the middle of boycotts, Pride backlash, and national culture wars.

The vibe is tense. The moment is fragile. And here comes Khloé, treating it like a lifestyle backdrop. Like the protests, the policies, and the people trying to survive it all just… don’t exist.

But it’s not just Khloé.

It’s Goop’s $29 SNAP challenge. It’s the Imagine video during lockdown. It’s influencers filming deinfluencing content in $3,000 kitchens. It’s the slow, collective realization that celebrity culture isn’t aspirational anymore.

It’s annoying.

And the response?
Not fanfare.
Just fatigue.

Where Do We Go From Here?

When we talk about the Kardashians today, it’s no longer about innovation. It’s about overexposure. It’s about misreading the room. It's about how loud the disconnect sounds when people are asking for authenticity—not aesthetics. For policy—not polish. For connection—not curation.

In hard times, people don’t want to watch excess—they want to feel seen. The Kardashian brand of flaunting jets, robots, and snacks no one asked for has started to feel like background noise. Consumers—especially younger ones—aren’t just buying products anymore. They’re buying into values.

Pinterest’s 2025 trend report says it best. Yes, “Cherry Coded” (hi red everything) is trending—but it’s the rise of “Terra Futura” that really matters. Searches for things like “self-sufficient gardens” and “upcycled fashion” are surging. The vibe has shifted from showy to sustainable.

That’s why brands like DoorDash, Refy Beauty, and Chipotle are winning. They’re not selling a fantasy. They’re showing up with personality. They’re not trend-chasing. They’re building real connection.

And it shows. Because let’s be honest—the Kardashian product machine? It’s starting to feel like the old playbook. Glossy. Detached. A little too late.

One side is building the future.
The other is stuck selling the past.

There's no shame in building an empire. But there is danger in refusing to evolve. Especially when the rest of us are just trying to afford eggs.

Kardashian fatigue isn’t just about them—it’s about what they represent. A celebrity class that’s lost touch. A system that rewards visibility over value. A market where the people with the most often have the least to say.

We’re tired of being sold products by people who don’t understand our lives. We’re tired of beauty standards that require surgery. We’re tired of watching billionaires play while we work.

Maybe it’s time to change the channel.
Maybe it’s time to support brands that understand what real life looks like.
Maybe it’s time to expect more from the companies we give our money to.

The Kardashians broke the internet once.
But the internet has moved on.

And maybe it’s time we did, too.

Just let them eat popcorn.
The rest of us have real food to buy.