If you didn’t have a rhinestone cat on your back pocket in 2003, were you even there? Honestly, looking back at the Kimora Lee Simmons 2000s era feels like staring directly into a Swarovski-encrusted sun. It was loud. It was unapologetic. It was "fabulosity" before that word even hit the dictionary.
Kimora didn't just sell clothes; she sold a dream of high-gloss, high-stakes living that felt both impossible and weirdly within reach. While the fashion gatekeepers were busy looking down their noses at "urban" brands, Kimora was busy building a billion-dollar empire. She took the gritty energy of hip-hop and dipped it in 24-karat gold.
The Birth of Baby Phat
It started as a marketing gimmick. Really. Russell Simmons, Kimora’s then-husband, needed a way to get women interested in his Phat Farm brand. He gave Kimora a few tiny tees to hand out to her supermodel friends. But Kimora—ever the Chanel muse who had been walking for Karl Lagerfeld since she was 13—saw something bigger.
She hated the initial samples. They looked like "man clothes" shrunk down. Boring. So, she took the reins in 1999 and birthed Baby Phat.
By 2000, she was the President and Creative Director. She wasn't just a figurehead; she was the face, the heart, and the drill sergeant of the brand. She famously told The Fader that she built it for women who were ignored by the fashion elite. Women of color. Women who wanted to look sexy, not sporty.
The numbers were insane.
In 2001, Baby Phat did $30 million in revenue. A year later? $265 million. By the time 2004 rolled around, the parent company was sold for $140 million, yet Kimora stayed on as the visionary. She was the first woman of color to really own the "lifestyle brand" space.
That 2000s Aesthetic: Rhinestones and Pink Motorolas
You can't talk about the Kimora Lee Simmons 2000s run without mentioning the tech. Remember the Baby Phat Motorola i833? It was a pink, quilted flip phone with actual diamonds. It cost $700 and sold exclusively at Bloomingdale's. Hanging up on someone had never felt so satisfying as it did with that "clack."
Then there were the fashion shows.
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Most designers did quiet, polite walks in white tents. Kimora? She took over Radio City Music Hall. She broadcast the show live on a Jumbotron in Times Square.
She walked the final lap with her daughters, Ming Lee and Aoki Lee, who were basically the first "nepo babies" the public actually rooted for. They were part of the brand’s DNA.
The clothes themselves were a specific kind of alchemy:
- Low-rise jeans with enough stretch to actually fit a human body.
- Velour tracksuits that rivaled Juicy Couture but felt more "street."
- Puffer jackets with massive faux-fur hoods.
- The Cat Logo. That Siamese cat (inspired by her real pet, Max) was everywhere.
Life in the Fab Lane
By 2007, the brand was a beast, but Kimora wanted more. Enter Kimora: Life in the Fab Lane.
This show was the blueprint for modern reality TV. Before the Kardashians were a household name, we were watching Kimora scream at her assistants for not having the right kind of bottled water while she managed a global corporation. It was peak entertainment.
She gave us the "Kimora-isms."
"My husband don't buy me diamonds. I buy my own diamonds!"
She was a boss who didn't feel the need to act "professional" in the traditional, boring sense. She was loud, she was demanding, and she was incredibly successful.
Why It Actually Mattered
It’s easy to dismiss the Y2K era as tacky. But for women of color in the early 2000s, Baby Phat was a revolution. It was the first time a major fashion brand spoke directly to them without trying to "soften" the culture.
Kimora cast diverse models when the industry was still overwhelmingly white. She put Lil' Kim and Aaliyah in her campaigns. She proved that "urban" didn't mean "cheap." It meant aspirational.
"I always strived to represent my audience," Kimora once said. "We were the American Dream."
She bridged the gap between the Bronx and the Boulevard. You could wear Baby Phat to a party, to school, or—if you were Kimora—to a red carpet with a $100,000 necklace.
The Shift and the Legacy
Nothing lasts forever, especially in fashion. By 2010, Kimora parted ways with the brand. It was an ugly split. The "urban streetwear" bubble had somewhat burst, and the aesthetic was shifting toward the minimalist vibes of the early 2010s.
But look at TikTok today.
The #Y2K aesthetic is dominated by Baby Phat archives.
Rihanna bought an entire archive of the brand's vintage pieces in 2019.
Kimora eventually bought the brand back, too.
She’s now back on screens with Kimora: Back in the Fab Lane in 2025, showing a new generation how it's done.
Actionable Insights for the Y2K Obsessed
If you're trying to channel that Kimora Lee Simmons 2000s energy today, don't just buy a cheap knockoff. Here is how to do it right:
- Scour Resale Sites: Authentic early-2000s Baby Phat pieces (the ones with the thick embroidery and heavy hardware) are gold on Poshmark and Depop. Look for the "Goddess" era tags.
- Focus on the Fit: The 2000s look was about "tight and tiny" on top with volume on the bottom. Think baby tees paired with oversized, fur-trimmed puffers.
- Invest in Hardware: Kimora’s look was never subtle. Big hoops, big buckles, and big logos. If it’s not making a statement, it’s not Fabulosity.
- Mix High and Low: The secret to Kimora's style was wearing streetwear with high-end luxury accessories. Don't be afraid to pair a vintage tracksuit with a designer bag.
The 2000s weren't just a decade; they were an attitude. And Kimora Lee Simmons was the one who wrote the manual.