SHOPPERS can find everything from Kim Kardashian's dresses to Kris Jenner's bathrobes on the Kardashian Kloset website – and what I bought was somewhere in between.
It only cost me $204 to see how the other half lives (or at least dresses), and even though my purchases fit like a glove, I doubt I'll ever be able to show them off.
Even though I want Kris Jenner's $955 floral Oscar de la Renta caftan, I didn't add it to my cart for the purposes of this article. After all, anyone would look glorious in that.
Instead, I picked two items that are more aligned with what the Kardashians might actually wear in their everyday lives.
The first to pique my kuriosity curiosity was a pair of Spanx, brand-new with tag, priced at $75, from Khloe's closet.
It seemed like an odd souvenir, even for a Kardashian superfan to choose. They don't take up much closet space and the $75 price tag wasn't going to make or break the family's financials.
Why would Khloe sell her shapewear? There's only one explanation: gentle encouragement from Kim.
I can picture the confrontation. Kim went to Khloe's house to borrow a scarf that costs more than my rent when she spied the Spanx.
What followed was an hour-long family meeting about converting all the households to a Skims-only shapewear policy. Kris cried twice.
Of course, if that imaginary behind-the-scenes footage exists, it's tucked away safely on Hulu's data servers, waiting for The Kardashians' 10-year anniversary special.
The important thing is, I now own some Spanx that came this close to being on Khloe's body.
I also purchased an Isabel Marant Étoile sweater, marked down to $115 from an original price of $150.
This one belonged to Kourtney, who is a full six inches shorter than I am. Even though the sweater was labeled as my size, I worried the fabric wouldn't cover my whole torso.
I decided to brave it anyway. The piece seemed practical, based on the website description.
"Semi-sheer thin, fitted turtleneck sweater with raw edge hem detail," it read. "Good condition; minor signs of wear."
After placing the order, which came out to $204.95 with shipping, I didn't have to wait long for my treasures to arrive.
They were packaged neatly, each wrapped in Kardashian Kloset-branded tissue paper and sealed with a logo sticker.
Like my influencer foremothers before me, the first thing I did once I'd opened the box was smell the clothes.
Other Kardashian Kloset customers have made a ritual of sniffing their purchases, and most can't quite articulate what they sense.
They typically say the clothing they buy doesn't exactly smell clean or dirty – it just smells worn.
While the Spanx smelled factory-fresh, I could tell the sweater had been worn, though it might've been years ago.
I didn't detect the smell of skin, or attic storage, two aromas other customers have reported.
The new-to-me Isabel Marant Étoile sweater smelled vaguely of dried-down perfume. It's a smell I've detected on well-tended vintage clothes.
It was as if someone had sprayed perfume on the fabric years ago, and the fragrance wore off, leaving the barest traces of alcohol and aldehydes behind.
Then I discovered more evidence that the sweater had been in a real person's actual closet: lint! And hair!
Bright red lint and hair, on a pre-owned Kardashian sweater! Oh, what a bountiful harvest for a meek little lifestyle reporter like me.
I dutifully picked the little bits of fuzz off the sweater and put them in a specimen jar (my Jar-dashian, if you will) to examine.
After spreading them out on a piece of paper in the sunlight, I noticed the fibers appear to be synthetic in origin.
That rules out Kourtney's three dogs.
And while the hairs and bits of fuzz were short, there is a member of the family who has worn a long, red wig.
That would be Kris, who apparently deployed a scarlet hairpiece for extremely specific role-playing activities.
I'm not sure why Kourtney's sweater would have hair crumbs from her mom's sex wig on it, so that leads me to my third theory.
As Kourtney revamped her wardrobe with her husband Travis Barker's enthusiastic approval, she added plenty of black-and-red, fur- and feather-trimmed items.
A cream turtleneck would not align with her revamped brand, so it went to the "sell" pile with a few stray strands from a trendier outfit attached.
Following my close inspection of the garments, it was time to actually try them on.
When I first yanked the Spanx onto my body, I didn't realize they were meant to be an "open bust" design. Oops!
But even with the full elastic romper pulled well up over my own chest, the Spanx were comfortable, while still cinching in my waist.
Once I adjusted to the manufacturer-recommended styling, they were a perfect fit.
The shapewear was also totally sheer, so I had to add a layer underneath to capture it on camera. I think this lends credence to my Kim's Skims-Only Policy.
After all, I've seen people on TikTok display the shaping Skims bodysuits on camera with no problem, and I've even seen a couple of people rock the shapewear as casual clothing.
As it turned out, "sheer clothes" seemed to be the theme of the day.
When I hung up the turtleneck to photograph it, I realized I could see the hanger through the fabric.
After double-checking the item description, I confirmed it had read "semi-sheer."
But I might as well have placed a plastic shopping bag over my clothes hanger for how well I could see the pink velvet through the sweater's material.
This didn't bode well for integrating the sweater into my wardrobe.
I changed out of the Spanx, and put on a comfortable bralette to test just how translucent the sweater was.
I guess it is technically semi-sheer, in the most obnoxious, pedantic sense of the word. I wouldn't feel comfortable wearing this fabric over my face while driving a car, for example.
But I also wouldn't feel comfortable wearing it out in the world without an overlayer.
Besides the super-thin fabric that made me feel like I was wearing the Emperor's New Clothes, the sweater was very cozy and comfortable.
The actual turtleneck felt a little long, but I appreciated having lots of fabric to recede into.
The raw-edge hem wasn't so distressed that it looked damaged, either; aside from the smattering of lint, the sweater was in perfect, like-new condition.
Determined to find a way to wear it, I searched for a blazer.
Are the Kardashians breeding a new kind of sheep that is invisible?, I wondered as I dug through my closet.
Finally, I assembled an outfit that was technically safe for work: a white tank top, Kourtney's sweater, a black blazer, leopard-print pants, and gold jewelry.
The end result would definitely do in a pinch, but I skipped a bra in favor of a white camisole.
When I tried pairing the undershirt with a bra before putting on the sweater, I found the clingy, sheer material emphasized every single bump from the straps and lump from the hooks.
Plus, along the tops of my breasts, it puckered along the edge of my bra cup, creating a silhouette that was like the dreaded uni-boob but with wrinkles.
I felt a little cheated by the "semi-sheer" website description. I was anticipating a very suggestive shirt, which I'm always in favor of.
But this sweater didn't make me feel like Jennifer Aniston pushing the boundaries of late-90s sitcom wardrobes.
Even in full NSFW mode with nothing underneath, the sweater fit me more like a damp swimsuit cover-up, both baggy and too tight at the same time.
The soft wool fabric didn't exactly feel sexy, either. It's a utilitarian sweater, and surprisingly warm – more like Under Armour than Agent Provocateur.
That means it will make a good winter layer for me, but nothing more.
Just like the Spanx, I anticipate this purchase will settle in at the bottom of my outfits, just like it fell to the bottom of the Kardashians' closets.