Kendall Jenner. The name alone sparks a thousand think pieces, a million Instagram likes, and an endless scroll of paparazzi shots. She’s the gazelle on the runway, the face of countless campaigns, the embodiment of a certain kind of effortless cool. Or is she?
We’re told it’s about hard work. The tireless hustle, the relentless ambition, the family mantra of “You’ve got one life, make it a double.” And there’s no denying the sheer volume of stuff Kendall churns out. The reality shows, the tequila brand, the modeling gigs that stretch from here to the moon. It’s dizzying, frankly. Even exhausting to watch.
But here’s the thing about fairytales: they tend to gloss over the messy bits. The uncomfortable truths lurking beneath the surface of the perfectly curated Instagram feed. Because let’s be real, Kendall didn’t claw her way up from obscurity. She didn’t spend years schlepping from casting to casting, sleeping on friends’ couches, surviving on ramen noodles. She was born on third base, handed a megaphone, and told to swing for the fences.
Now, before the hate mail floods in, let me be clear: I’m not begrudging anyone their privilege. We all play the hand we’re dealt. But to pretend that Kendall’s success is solely the product of sweat and grit? That’s an insult to every artist, every entrepreneur, every dreamer who’s ever stared down the abyss of uncertainty with nothing but talent and a prayer.
I remember once, years ago, I was backstage at a Marc Jacobs show. Chaos, as always. Models, makeup artists, publicists running around like headless chickens. And there, in the middle of it all, was this young model. Couldn't have been older than 16. She was shaking, tears streaming down her face. Turns out, she'd been up for two days straight, flown in from some godforsaken place, and hadn't eaten a thing. This was her big break, her shot at the big time. But all I saw was a terrified kid, lost in a world that chewed up and spat out vulnerability like yesterday’s news.
That’s the fashion industry I know. The one that exists beyond the red carpets and the airbrushed editorials. The one where talent is only part of the equation, where luck and connections and, yes, often sheer desperation, play an equally significant role.
So, where does that leave Kendall? Is she a product of nepotism or a self-made mogul? The answer, like most things in life, is probably somewhere in between. She’s undoubtedly benefited from her family’s name and influence. But she’s also, by all accounts, a hard worker, a savvy businesswoman, and someone who genuinely seems to enjoy what she does.
And maybe that’s enough. Maybe we don’t need to dissect every success story, to categorize it as either a product of privilege or a triumph over adversity. Maybe we can simply acknowledge that life is messy and unfair and full of contradictions. And that sometimes, the most interesting stories are the ones that defy easy categorization.
But one thing’s for sure: the fairytale narrative? The one that tells us anyone can achieve anything if they just work hard enough? That’s one story Kendall Jenner can’t sell. Not anymore. The world’s a little too jaded for that now. And frankly, we deserve a more nuanced conversation.
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