Picture this: you're a freshman at Montana State University, armed with nothing but a raincoat from Olympia, Washington, staring down a Bozeman winter. That was Kimmie Geer in 2011, walking into Heyday on Main Street looking for work, knowing absolutely nothing about skiing. By the time she graduated, she'd not only learned to carve turns on Bridger Bowl but had also stumbled into something bigger—a movement that would put "SLAG" hoodies in ski towns from Jackson to Whistler.
The transformation didn't happen overnight. Geer spent her college years collecting used gear and learning from patient friends who taught her how to navigate the steep terrain that makes Bozeman a magnet for serious skiers. "I fell in love with skiing when I found my girl squad," she says, and you can hear the Montana straightforwardness in that simple declaration. No flowery language about mountain spirituality or finding herself on the slopes—just the honest truth that skiing got good when she found her people.
Working at Heyday downtown, surrounded by outdoor gear and the constant flow of locals gearing up for another day on Bridger, Geer started picking up social media marketing skills. As a graphic design major, she was already thinking visually, but the retail environment taught her something else: what people actually wanted to wear. In 2018, while doing private label design work, she created a simple shirt that said exactly what it meant: Ski Like a Girl.
"I fell in love with skiing when I found my girl squad."
Walk down Main Street in Bozeman today and you'll understand why the brand took off. This isn't some precious mountain town where everyone whispers about powder conditions over $20 lattes. Bozeman has grit—it's a college town where Montana State kids mix with ranchers, tech workers, and the kind of ski bums who work construction all summer to fund their winter habits. The locals needed something that felt authentic, and tourists wanted to take home more than just another generic Montana souvenir.
What Geer tapped into was simpler than anyone expected: women wanted to declare their presence on the mountain without apologizing for it. The phrase "Ski Like a Girl" flips the old insult on its head, turning it into a badge of honor. When you see someone wearing the signature hoodie on the chairlift at Bridger, there's an immediate recognition—a nod that says yes, we belong here too.
The brand expanded beyond that original shirt organically, adding hoodies, hats, and beanies that carry the same direct message. But Geer was smart about keeping the line focused. You won't find technical ski pants or complicated layering systems here. Instead, you'll find pieces that work whether you're skinning up the Bridger Ridge at dawn or grabbing beers at the Haufbrau after last chair. The stickers alone have become currency in the ski world—you spot them on car bumpers in Crested Butte, water bottles in Tahoe, and helmet backs from Vermont to Alaska.
What makes Ski Like a Girl different from the countless other ski lifestyle brands isn't just the messaging—it's the community that formed around it. Geer understood something that bigger brands often miss: authenticity can't be manufactured in a boardroom. It comes from real experience, from someone who actually learned to ski as an adult, who remembers the intimidation of walking into a ski shop for the first time, who knows what it feels like to be the beginner in a group of experts.
The movement aspect wasn't planned; it just happened. Women started sharing photos wearing their Ski Like a Girl gear while teaching their daughters to ski, while tackling challenging terrain, while simply existing unapologetically in spaces where they'd historically been made to feel like visitors. The brand became a way to signal membership in a community that prioritizes inclusion over intimidation.
Standing in downtown Bozeman today, with the Bridger Mountains rising directly north of Main Street, you can see why this particular message resonated from this particular place. Montana doesn't do things halfway, and neither do the women who choose to make their lives here. The winters are long, the mountains are serious, and there's no room for gear or attitudes that don't actually work.
Geer's story reflects something larger happening in ski culture—the recognition that the sport gets better when more people feel welcome in it. Her brand didn't set out to change the conversation around women in skiing, but by simply stating the obvious truth that girls and women belong on the mountain, it became part of that change anyway.
Next time you're in Bozeman, take a drive up Bridger Canyon Road toward the ski area. You'll pass the turnoff to Fairy Lake, wind through the canyon where Bridger Creek runs alongside the road, and eventually reach the parking lot where Kimmie Geer learned to ski. Look around at the faces getting ready for another day on the mountain, and chances are good you'll spot at least one person wearing those four simple words that started as a design project and became a declaration.