by Jenner, Kris
Four months after Robert died, we opened our children’s store, Smooch. My best friend, Shelli Azoff, came up with the name. We all immediately loved the sound of it. It just sounded happy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Keeping Up with the Kardashians
We opened Smooch to great success in 2004.
The store did well. For me, it was an enormous validation: Never give up on your dreams just because life gets in the way. I was almost fifty when I opened Smooch, and here I was, finally achieving something I’d spent a lifetime dreaming of doing. Working at my grandmother’s store and my mom’s store since I was thirteen, I knew I would end up someday with a store of my own. This was a really big deal. No matter how long you’ve had a dream, it can still come true if you persevere.
We worked there every day for three years. We didn’t have any help or any employees. It was just Kourtney and me. I think that is what gave it a personal touch, and it really taught Kourtney the business in shorthand, because she had to just jump in and do it.
Within a couple of years, Kim and Khloé saw how much fun we were having with Smooch, and they decided they would love to open a store too. One store was enough for me, but I told them, “If you two want to open a store with Kourtney, just the three of you, I think you should.”
Soon a space became available next to Smooch, and the girls grabbed it. They thought long and hard about a name for the store and finally ended up calling it DASH—first, because it’s part of their name, KarDASHian, and second, because Robert’s friend Chris Christian used to call him “Dash” as a nickname. So the name DASH is a nod to both their name and their father. Just as with Smooch, DASH found great success, and the girls developed an amazing business.
At the same time we opened Smooch, we moved from the Sherwood Country Club back to Calabasas into our new house on a street called Cordova Drive. Pretty soon everybody who knew our family kept telling us the same thing: Your family is so crazy, you should have a reality TV show.
I wasn’t crazy about the idea, at least not at first. I knew what Bruce had endured in I’m a Celebrity . . . Get Me Out of Here! He had to fight for survival in the Outback of Australia with other celebrities, including Robin Leach, Melissa Rivers, and Downtown Julie Brown. That’s pretty much what I knew about reality television. However, I also knew the power of success on television from what it did for Bruce and me when we filmed our fitness infomercials in the nineties. So, whatever the basis of the show, I felt this would be a piece of cake. That’s just how I felt: I can do this.
I always thought our family was certainly entertaining enough—or maybe just crazy enough—to make a good reality show. So when someone told us we should film a pilot, we found the idea very interesting.
We shot a pilot in our house in Calabasas, and it was a lot of fun and didn’t take very long. The producer was a woman who said she just wanted to capture the spirit of our family. When I saw the result, it didn’t blow my socks off, but it was a start and I thought it was fun and interesting. The pilot included the three girls and myself and basically just followed us as we worked at our stores and hung out at home, doing our thing.
By then, my girls were getting some attention. Especially Kim, who by now was divorced, and began to go out, really for the first time in her life, frequently with her longtime friend Paris Hilton. Paris’s mother, Kathy, and I had known each other since the 1980s, back when we were both having babies, and Kourtney, Kim, Khloé, and the Hilton daughters, Paris and Nicky, had all grown up together. As the girls grew older, they all stayed in contact, traveling to places like Vegas or the Hamptons together, and we always saw Kathy and Rick at all of their beautiful parties and around town. Kathy and Rick even gave me my baby shower when I had Kendall. I adore Kathy and Rick and will always consider them dear friends.
Eventually, Paris took off in the public eye and became very, very famous. Paris started asking Kim to go everywhere with her. The girls traveled the world—Australia, Europe, all over. Kim was Paris’s sidekick, and they had a ball together. The media started noticing Kim because she was always with Paris. They really started paying attention when Kim, the hopeless romantic among my girls, was introduced to Nick Lachey shortly after he split from his first wife Jessica Simpson. I heard Nick and Kim were going out on a date to the movies, and I thought, Well, that will be fun.
I didn’t hear much more about it, but the next morning I woke up to find Nick and Kim plastered all over the Internet. Every single media outlet was reporting it: TMZ, Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood, and more. When the weekly magazines came out that week, it was the same thing: they were the hot new couple in every magazine. I thought, But it was just one date! It was so funny to me that things could get blown out of proportion that quickly. I mean, I knew the media, but that was an introduction to pop culture I had not had before.
Even more important than any of this was the fact that I still had to get my son into college. Rob was finishing up high school, leading me to my greatest mission: to get him accepted at the University of Southern California.
That had been Robert Kardashian’s dream: for his only son to attend his alma mater, USC. From the day Rob was born until the day Robert passed away, he talked about it, dreamed about it, planned it. There was no other college in Robert’s eyes. He wore USC caps, USC T-shirts, USC everything. Having one of his children get into USC was his life’s dream. It was the only choice.
College was a very big deal for Robert Kardashian. He was the one who studied with the kids and emphasized academics. He talked about college endlessly with all of them, and he helped Kourtney when she was applying to SMU. He helped the kids fill out the paperwork; he helped them study for tests; and he helped them finish their homework. I was so grateful that he took over the educational component for my older kids, because when they were preparing for college, I had two babies to care for. College became Robert’s department.
Now Robert was gone. College was my responsibility. Rob was finishing high school at the Buckley School. We had sent our kids to Buckley since 1980, and the school knew our kids like family. They knew what Rob had gone through when his father was sick and passed away. They really got behind me and wanted to help me get Rob to USC. Without the faculty and staff of Buckley and their guidance, I would have been lost. I started going to meetings there regularly to talk about the college application process.
Then it came time to get recommendation letters for Rob’s application, and I went on a full-fledged promotional campaign for my son. I called my dear friend, USC alumnus Frank Gifford, and he wrote the most wonderful recommendation letter for Rob. My dear friend L.A. attorney Howard Weitzman had known Rob since he was born and was able to write about Robert Kardashian’s passionate wish for Rob to go to USC. I talked to everyone I could think of; it was like waging a political campaign.
I will never forget the sense of relief I had after Rob’s application was submitted and completed and in the mail. Of course, my relief was coupled with a terror that he would not be accepted.
The day of Rob’s interview on campus, I dressed like I was going to meet the queen of England, from my high heels to my business suit. Walking onto that campus that day was very emotional. I knew that someday I might be there for something like this, but I never thought I would be doing it alone. I never thought I would be doing it without Robert Kardashian. Actually, I wasn’t alone: I had Bruce Jenner by my side. And that proved to be extremely important. Bruce Jenner, in fact, has always been by my side since I met him, picking up the pieces and propping me up. Bruce was amazing. Bruce is amazing. He is always there to love and support me. I will always be grateful for this man, who loves my children and me unconditionally, even the children who are not biologically his.
That day, parking the car at USC, Bruce was as excited as Rob and I were. He got himself completely wrapped up in this excitement—the Getting Rob into USC Campaign. Bruce had promised Robert Kardashian when he was dying that he would be there to take
care of his children, and I think Bruce saw this as an extension of that promise. When we stepped into that meeting with the dean of admissions that day, Bruce knew how important it was to all of us and he was just as devoted to the cause.
There was an audible buzz in the department when we arrived.
Not about me.
It was all about Bruce.
Bruce Jenner is here.
With Rob Kardashian.
After the meeting, I felt good about Rob’s chances. Still, after his application was complete, it was a waiting game. I rushed to the mailbox every single day. Some days I would just sit on the steps outside my front porch, waiting for the mailman to arrive. Soon we became really friendly. I felt the mailman was part of my family. After all, he was about to deliver one of the most important letters of my life. When the mail was delivered, I would rifle through it, sifting through the junk and the catalogs, searching for the envelope with the USC seal. I knew that this would be a really big deal in Rob’s life. Oddly—and irresponsibly—I didn’t have a Plan B. You know how kids apply to different schools? Rob applied to exactly one: USC. There was no other school; there was no other option. I just focused all my attention and my energy on that one school, and I wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “If someone says no, you’re talking to the wrong person.” That’s been my lifelong motto.
One day I rushed to the mailbox, and there it was: the letter I felt I had been waiting for my entire life. I saw the USC seal. I started to shake, I got so nervous. I ran inside and sat in my living room, holding this letter in my lap, thinking, It’s addressed to my son, but I really need to open this. I wanted it to be a big surprise. But if I opened it and it was a rejection, what was I going to do? How would I tell my son that his dad’s dream of him going to USC had gone up in smoke? I remember sitting there so scared. The uncertainty was driving me crazy. I just had to know. Finally, I slid a fingernail under the back of the letter and pried it open. Just a little. So it wouldn’t be obvious that it had been tampered with. I opened it just enough and very slowly, carefully . . .
I peeked inside. I could only see the first word . . . and it said, “Congratulations.”
I screamed. I burst into tears. I was alone, but felt like Robert Kardashian was there with me. I started jumping up and down in the living room, yelling, “We did it! We did it! Robert, we did it! We did it!”
Of course, I knew all along that Robert Kardashian was probably running the show from up there in heaven, and I really felt his presence that day.
What to do now? Celebrate! I ran out to Chick’s, a sporting goods store where I knew they sold USC merchandise. I bought everything with a USC logo on it: USC caps, USC T-shirts, everything USC. Back home, I took the acceptance letter and all of the USC stuff and put it in a box, which I gift wrapped. I called Bruce and told him to come home immediately. I called all of my kids and told them to rush right over. Soon the whole family was gathered in our house in Calabasas. Finally, Rob came home from school.
“What’s up?” he said.
“I just bought you a present,” I said, and gave him the big box.
He opened the box and saw all of the USC paraphernalia, and we all started crying and screaming and congratulating him. Wow. I knew Robert was smiling, just as we all were on that amazing day.
Rob went to USC, to the business school, and he became a straight-A student. I know that part of his motivation was that he knew he needed to do his best for his dad. He wanted to make his dad proud, because they had talked about USC so many times. That was the mission; that was the goal. Mission accomplished. I am so proud of my son.
After living on Cordova Drive in Calabasas for about eighteen months, I was still on a never-ending search for the perfect house for my family, bugging my real estate agent, Marc Shevin, on a daily basis. Even though we had a beautiful house on Cordova Drive, I was bound and determined to get back into Hidden Hills. Every day I called Marc. “Is anything for sale? Is anything for sale?” I would ask him. But there was nothing on the market.
Then, right after we shot the pilot for the reality show, Marc called me. “Kris, there’s a house that might be coming on the market,” he said. “I want to drive you by it.”
I jumped in the car and met him in front of Hidden Hills, where I hopped in his car and we drove through the gate. He started driving me down one particular street, and my heart started racing. “Oh my God . . .” I said to Marc. “Could we possibly be going to my favorite house?”
As we drove closer and closer, I could barely breathe.
“I don’t know,” said Marc. “Which one is your favorite house?”
There was one particular house that I used to drive by all the time in Hidden Hills. If you were going to write a fairy tale about a cottage in the woods, this house would be that cottage. It was set back from the street, a Cape Cod–style home with a long driveway over a stream with a big wraparound porch with rocking chairs and a porch swing. It had beautiful pink roses all over the place.
Sure enough, we pulled into the driveway of my fairy-tale house. I knew instantly: this was the house I had been searching for for so long. This was the perfect house for our crazy Hollywood family, a modern-day Brady Bunch, in an adorable, Cape Cod, all-American dream. We had found that house for a reason, and I would discover that reason soon enough.
“Oh my God, oh my God!” I screamed “This is the house I have been walking and driving by. I love this house!”
“Well, the owner wants to sell it,” Marc said.
“I’ll take it!” I said.
“You haven’t even seen the inside yet.”
“I know, but I love this house. I have to have this house.”
I had Marc make an offer immediately. I didn’t even go inside of the house until after we’d made the offer. When I saw the interior, I loved the house even more. By that evening we had a signed contract. It was the craziest thing, but it was also the perfect thing. Once again, I had to tell Bruce. This time he was excited! He actually sat up with me all night with the negotiations back and forth. By midnight we were moving, this time back into my beloved Hidden Hills.
Yet again I had the feeling: This is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Finding my dream house after such a long and winding search was almost surreal. I realized it had all been part of a long journey on which I had to take every single step. Every move and everything we had gone through had led us to this incredible house, and even one step not taken—no matter how painful—might not have brought me here. I knew it was God who had taken me on a path and I had to put one step in front of the other—to live in house after house after house—for a very important reason.
This house was more than a house. This house was a stage. This was the house that everybody would fall in love with. This was a house dying for an audience. I never could have dreamed of how large that audience would become.
Life was so good. Kim was thriving in her styling and closet organization business, styling and organizing the closets of friends like Bernadette and Sugar Ray Leonard, and Nicole Richie. Kourtney and Khloé were completely absorbed in their stores. Bruce’s business was booming. And I had finally found what I felt at last was my dream house. Things began to fall into place in an incredible way. Thirty days after we unpacked and we were settling in, our dear friends Jerry and Deena Katz came over for dinner. Deena was the casting director for Bruce’s reality show, I’m a Celebrity . . . Get Me Out of Here! and she had been a good friend ever since. When she visited us in our new house in Hidden Hills, she had become the casting director for Dancing with the Stars.
Deena was sitting in my kitchen of my Cape Cod dream house, watching the chaos of our life swirl around her.
Kim rushed in and announced, “I’m spending the night.” Kourtney came over, changed into her bathing suit, and said, “Can I use your pool?” Our two little girls, Kendall and Kylie, were running around the house—all while I tried to make us dinner with the phone ringing off the wall. We were l
aughing and talking and I was booking speeches for Bruce even while all this was going on. Someone called for Kylie, and I pushed the intercom button and said, “Kylie, line one!”
Then: “Kim, line two!”
And: “Khloé, line three!”
When Kylie didn’t answer, I hit the intercom again. “Kylie, line one!” I said.
Then I went back to cooking dinner.
Afterward Deena stared at me in bewilderment. “Did you just intercom your ten-year-old?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said nonchalantly. There was nothing unusual about that to me. This was my life.
“You are hysterical,” said Deena. “This is the craziest house I have ever been in! You really need a reality show!”
“Oh, that’s funny,” I said. “Why are you the thirtieth person to say that to me this week?”
“Because it’s true,” she said. “Just being around your life and the people you hang out with and the way you guys all are together. Don’t you see how unique that is? You, your daughters and your son, and your husband, and the little girls . . .”
She stopped in mid-sentence.
“You know, I really think you should talk to Ryan Seacrest’s people,” Deena said. “He is over at E! producing shows, and this is right up his alley. He would love this.”
“I’m all ears,” I replied. “Get me a meeting.”