Standing in the airy kitchen of her Calabasas home, Kim Kardashian West looks like she might be the twentysomething nanny or assistant of Kim Kardashian West. Without her signature chassis of bronzer, highlighter, contouring, and skintight Yeezy garb, the 37-year-old is almost indistinguishable from the handful of staff in the room, even to someone who has absorbed probably 300 GB of her selfies. In a long-sleeve cotton shirt and athletic pants, and with her hair in cornrows (more on that later), she is softer, daintier, in three dimensions than she is in two. I shouldn’t be surprised. If anything is true of Kim, it is her endless talent for optical illusions.

Thank you for coming all the way out here,” she says politely. “I hope there wasn’t too much traffic on a Saturday.” She leads the way to a living room containing a movie screen and a cream linen couch that could comfortably seat 10. In a house full of kids (three now), the sofa is improbably spotless. But what’s more remarkable is how silent the place is. “Everyone says that!” she says, kicking off her black Balenciaga slides and curling up in a corner. “My kids just aren’t that loud. My daughter has a friend over; they’re in the playroom. But they’re outdoorsy. My dog’s even quiet; it’s the craziest thing.” She’s referring, of course, to Sushi, the Pomeranian whose yapping was a story line on last season’s Keeping Up With the Kardashians. The Sushi problem was solved by a session with the Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan, and they all lived happily ever after.

An employee brings a tray with a glass mug of black tea sweetened with coconut milk. It’s the precise color of Kim’s skin, which is clearly an accident, but that I wonder about it tells you something about Kim’s maestro-like control over her surroundings. Her staff is dressed in head-to-toe black, with no logos or patterns on their clothing. In fact, there doesn’t appear to be any branding whatsoever on the premises. Even the water bottle Kim offers me has its sleeve carefully peeled off. “It’s a label-less house,” she says, gesturing around the room, which is indeed composed of Rothko-esque color fields in beige and greige.

The most obvious explanation for the lack of commercial noise is that her home doubles as a film set. And as is the case in movies and scripted series, reality TV requires the “Greeking”—blacking out or blurring—of logos in order to avoid trademark infringement. Also, if you’re a Kardashian, a clearly marked product in your house (or hand) is as good as an ad. And ads come with a price tag.

But Kim maintains that she’s simply a neat freak. “My life is chaotic, so my home is supersimple. Everything has to be clean. No clutter.” This maxim extends to her digital life as well. “I can’t have a full phone. At the end of the day, I delete everything that’s not a current conversation. If I need some information, then I keep it. If not, it has to be deleted. I can’t see too much noise.” A preference for visual serenity is part of Kim and Kanye’s aesthetic kinship. “If Kanye had a dream project,” she says, “it would be to make a Yeezy product line—like deodorant, every product you could imagine. He would redo them all; he hates how they look.” It’s easy to picture: Yeezy x Walgreens, all monotone items for your medicine cabinet.

Full interview:

Labels: Article, Gallery Updates, Photoshoots

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