New Clothes

One summer a pair of grifters come to the imperial palace and convince the emperor that they can make him a new suit of clothes that only those of intelligence and noble character can see. It is a trick. The emperor cannot see the suit because it does not exist. Unwilling to admit his gullibility he claims that what he sees is most splendid. Not wanting to incur his wrath his people go along with the fiction, praising the new suit of clothes. This invisible social contract persists until a boy, too young to know how high the stakes are, blurts out what he sees—a naked man—and the collective spell is broken. Everyone laughs at the emperor who in embarrassment and rage executes the boy. He never wears the new clothes again but always maintains that they were spectacular.

Afterward there is some noise about how the boy was in the wrong for denying the emperor’s reality, and how a culture of cloth-normativity erases the lived experience of clothing diverse peoples. This dies down at the onset of winter.

In an empire without a vocal young boy …

Wearing new clothes becomes fashionable in certain circles. Institutions support it with banks, universities, car manufacturers, and governments all declaring support for clothing diversity. Stores start stocking new clothes claiming they fit better and are easier to source.

Purchasing clothes is more than usually tricky. What do you do? Go to the local retailer who sells old clothes and new clothes? When new clothes are offered do you politely decline on the basis that you don’t like the pattern? Or do you point out that the new cloth doesn’t actually exist? Given an invitation to judge a local fashion competition do you decline, accept and tell the truth, or accept and gush over the competitors wearing new clothes like you think the other judges will? The people who say with grave certainty that they can see the new clothes; are they afraid or are they pursuing social cachet?

Those who claim to be able to see new clothes sometimes disagree about what they see. Is Robert wearing argyle socks or are they striped? In response there is an effort to make it a terrible faux pas to assume what anyone is wearing before they have told you. Even those given to wearing old clothes are told that it is impossible for anyone to know what they are wearing unless they volunteer the information. You try it out at your next job interview, claiming to be wearing a suit while actually dressed in old shorts and jandals. After being ejected for mocking an opressed minority, you wonder, how could they tell?

The knock-on effects are stupid and tragic. For instance, the requirement that hard hats be worn on worksites remains unchanged, but enforcement now consists of the safety officer politely asking if you are wearing one. People die from head injuries. Those given to wearing new hats are disproportionately affected which some say is just another example of how the system oppresses them. Some construction firms start requiring old hats be worn but later retract the requirement under pressure from activists who argue that it is discriminatory to ban workers wearing new hard hats from the worksite. More compliant companies hire clothing consultants and are given a “new-clothes safe workplace” tick by an accrediting agency.

People start showing up to work in more than just new hats and new jackets. Parents complain about teachers showing up to class clad entirely in new clothes. When they go to court to point out the “naked man sized hole” in child safeguarding they are required to amend their case to just “man sized hole” or face charges of contempt. The media suggests that these parents have an unhealthy focus on something completely irrelevant to a teacher’s ability to educate, that their attitudes likely create unhealthy home environments, and to ameliorate this the curriculum should be adjusted. Some on the curriculum working group recomend early exposure as the best way to undo the fear and disgust many children show towards men in new clothes. The story of The Emperor’s New Clothes is republished with a new introduction explaining that the crime the book illustrates is not group-think but hurty words.

You contract an infection so you visit your doctor. She is wearing old clothes but describes them to you and invites you to describe your clothes to her. The sickness you have is one that has been in the news and there is disagreement between the public health apparatus and other credentialed experts about what to do. Since public health began championing new clothes acceptance you’ve had trouble trusting their judgement but that doesn’t mean you believe the sometimes wild tales of their detractors either. You can guess what incentives are operating behind the scenes on each side but it doesn’t help you determine the truth. You go home and eat a heart foundation approved bowl of sugary cereal.

In the morning your wife says she wants to send your children to a holiday programme where you know some staff wear new clothes. You want to safeguard your children from potential perverts but your wife believes the new clothes movement is harmless and maligned, its members victims of cultural stigma. She sees this as an ideal opportunity to teach tolerance. You ask her if she ever read to the end of The Gingerbread Man.

—Jeremy, May 2025