You know that thick, white "Super T" stitching? The kind that looks like it was sewn with a rope rather than thread? If you stepped foot in a mall or flipped through a celebrity tabloid in the mid-2000s, you couldn't escape it. True Religion was everywhere. From Cameron Diaz to Pharrell, everyone was wearing those oversized horseshoes on their back pockets. But when you ask who made True Religion, the answer isn't just a corporate name on a tax form. It’s really the story of a husband-and-wife duo who decided to gamble everything on a sewing machine that didn't even exist yet.
Jeff Lubell and Kym Gold started the brand in 2002 in Vernon, California. They didn't just launch a "brand." They fundamentally changed how much people were willing to pay for denim. Before them, spending $300 on jeans was considered insanity. Jeff and Kym made it a status symbol.
The Visionaries Behind the Stitch
Jeff Lubell wasn't new to the game. He’d been around the textile block. But he had this specific obsession with the 1970s—the rock-and-roll, bohemian, flared-out aesthetic. He wanted to recreate that vibe but for a modern, luxury market. Kym Gold, his then-wife, was the operational engine and the creative co-founder. Together, they looked at the denim market and realized it was boring. Everything was flat. Everything was standard.
They wanted texture.
To get that signature look, they actually had to modify sewing machines. Standard industrial machines would break trying to push that heavy-duty yarn through denim. So, they tinkered. They broke things. Eventually, they created the "Super T" stitch. It was a five-needle thread process that became the brand’s fingerprint. If you see a pair of "Trues" from 2005, that stitch is the first thing you notice. It’s loud. It’s proud. It’s very Los Angeles.
Why True Religion Blew Up So Fast
It wasn't just about the thread, though. It was about the fit. Kym Gold has talked extensively in her memoir, Stillettos on the Ground, about how they focused on the silhouette. They weren't just making jeans for stick-thin models; they were making jeans that made your backside look incredible. That horseshoe logo on the pocket? It wasn't just a logo. It was placed strategically to lift and frame.
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Then came the celebrity seeding. This was before "influencers" were a thing. In the early 2000s, you got your brand on a celebrity by literally getting the clothes into their hands. Jeff and Kym were masters at this. Suddenly, Jessica Simpson is wearing them. Then David Beckham. Then every rapper in the industry is dropping the name in a verse.
The brand went public very quickly. By 2005, they were a juggernaut. People weren't just buying jeans; they were buying an entry ticket into a specific kind of West Coast cool. It was expensive, flashy, and unapologetically bold.
The Fall and the Corporate Shuffle
Success like that is hard to maintain. Jeff and Kym eventually divorced, and Kym sold her stake in the company for roughly $35 million. That was a turning point. When the founders' vision starts to compete with boardrooms and private equity, the soul of a brand often gets stretched thin.
By the time 2013 rolled around, the luxury denim bubble was starting to hiss. TowerBrook Capital Partners bought the company for about $835 million. That's a staggering amount of money for a denim brand. But the market was shifting. Fast fashion was rising. Zara and H&M were mimicking the "designer" look for $40. The "athleisure" trend was also starting to kill the demand for rigid, heavy denim. Why wear $300 jeans when you can wear $100 Lululemon leggings?
True Religion filed for bankruptcy twice—once in 2017 and again in 2020.
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Who Owns True Religion Now?
Today, the company is owned by a group of lenders including Farmstead Capital Management and Crystal Financial. It’s a very different beast than it was in the Lubell era. They’ve had to pivot hard. You’ll see them collaborating with Supreme or leaning into the "Y2K" nostalgia trend that’s currently gripping Gen Z.
Honestly, it’s a miracle they survived at all. Most brands from that era—the ones that lived and died by the mall—are gone. But True Religion has this weird, sticky staying power. It turns out that the "Buddha" logo and the horseshoe are iconic enough to withstand a few corporate collapses.
What You Should Know Before Buying "Trues" Today
If you’re looking for that vintage quality, you have to be careful. The stuff produced in the early 2000s under Jeff Lubell’s direct supervision is generally considered "the good stuff." It was made in the USA, usually in Los Angeles. The denim was heavier, and the washes were more complex.
Modern True Religion is often produced overseas to keep costs down and compete with mid-tier brands. It’s still stylish, but the "heirloom" quality of those early 2003–2008 pairs is hard to find in the new releases. If you’re hunting on Depop or Poshmark, look for the "Made in USA" tag if you want the authentic Lubell-era feel.
Spotting the Real Deal vs. The Fakes
Because True Religion was so expensive, the counterfeit market was—and is—insane. Here is how you tell if a pair is actually the work of the original founders' vision:
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- The Flap Alignment: On real pairs, the horseshoe should be centered perfectly on the pocket flap. Fakes often have it slightly off-kilter.
- The Stitching Quality: The "Super T" should be thick but clean. If you see loose threads or "nesting" (bunches of thread) on the inside of the waistband, it’s likely a knockoff.
- The Buddha Tag: Flip the inside tag. Real vintage pairs have a very high-detail Buddha. The "fingers" on the Buddha should be distinct. On fakes, the Buddha often looks like he has mittens for hands.
- The Weight: Real denim from the mid-2000s is heavy. If the jeans feel light like pajamas, they aren't the classic True Religions that made the brand famous.
The Cultural Legacy of the Horseshoe
We can’t talk about who made True Religion without talking about the culture that adopted it. This brand was a bridge. It bridged the gap between the rock-and-roll elite and the burgeoning streetwear scene. It was one of the first brands to prove that people would pay a premium for a "vibe" as much as a product.
Jeff Lubell once said in an interview that he wanted to create "the best fitting jeans in the world." Whether or not he did that is up for debate, but he definitely created the most recognizable ones. Even if you hate the look, you know it when you see it. That is the mark of a brand that actually changed the industry.
Actionable Steps for Denim Enthusiasts
If you're looking to dive back into the world of high-end denim or you're curious about the Y2K revival, don't just buy the first pair you see at a discount store.
- Research the Era: Look for "Joey" or "Billy" cuts if you want the authentic 2000s flare. These were the flagship styles that Jeff Lubell pioneered.
- Check the Fabric Composition: Original True Religions were often 100% cotton or had very little stretch (1-2% elastin). Modern "stretch" denim fits differently and won't age with the same honeycombs and fades as the vintage pairs.
- Support Local Manufacturing: If you love the idea of what True Religion was—locally made, high-quality, artisan denim—look into brands like Iron Heart or Naked & Famous. They carry the torch of that "overbuilt" construction that Lubell originally aimed for.
- Verify Sellers: When buying vintage, always ask for a photo of the "Micro-stitch" security thread behind the size tag. If it's not there, it's not authentic.
True Religion's journey from a small Vernon workshop to a billion-dollar household name is a wild ride. It’s a story of ego, incredible design, and the brutal reality of the fashion cycle. While the founders are no longer at the helm, their DNA is still baked into every horseshoe stitch you see on the street.