Do you remember the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes? It’s an old cautionary tale by Hans Christian Andersen. I’ve taken a few liberties with the story (okay – a bunch of liberties!) in an effort to refresh and update the story a little, but here it is:
There was once an indulged and much-loved prince. This prince, we’ll call him Bob, grew up in a palace surrounded by love and luxury and free from conflict. Bob grew up happy and naïve. His father, the old Emperor, was a wise and good man who got along well with all the neighboring kingdoms. Food was plentiful for everyone and overall, the world was a happy place. Eventually, the old Emperor died and Bob took his place. At first, everything remained calm and content, but the tranquility and peace eventually became boring to the young leader and his friends, and slowly, over a bit of time, they became critical and dissatisfied with their lives. They began to reject the status quo, and even to go so far as to condemn it as unenlightened and wrong. Feeling unhappy became stylish, and the angriest and least polite became the icons and mentors in the land.
Clothing fashions changed as well, and designers competed to create styles best reflected the celebrated angst and turmoil. Bob led the way with fashion trends, willingly letting his valet dress him in increasingly trendy garb. The old Empress, Bob’s royal mother, tried to tell her son that his choices were unwise, but he tired of her nagging and sent her to live at the Abbey where he didn’t have to listen to her anymore. One day, two of his most trusted designers (who also happened to be mean-spirited pranksters) came into Bob’s dressing room carrying a box. They told him they had created for him a suit that would upend the fashion world and bring him renown throughout the kingdom and beyond. Excited, Bob dropped his robe on the floor and allowed them to dress him. “This suit is made from very special materials. Only the most enlightened and awakened in the land will be able to see it. Anyone who is still clinging to the old ways won’t be able to enjoy the stunning beauty of it.” Bob tried to keep the confusion and skepticism off his face when he could see nothing inside the box. A few minutes later when he looked in the mirror, Bob stared. What he saw with his eyes was a slightly paunchy young ruler dressed in purple boxer shorts and red socks, nothing more. He looked around in confusion, and was met with adoring faces. “It’s a wonderful suit!”, “The fit is perfect!”, “A fashion breakthrough!” exclaimed those around him.
Afraid to be deemed Unawakened, Bob smiled. “A triumph,” he pronounced. Within the next few weeks, nearly the entire empire had begun wearing clothing made from this new material. As he surveyed the members of his court, or waved to his subjects as he rode in his carriage through the land, Bob complemented and smiled, hiding the fact that all his eyes saw were greying tighty-whities and lacy panties. A strange thing happened though as time went on, the longer he told himself that the clothes were beautiful, the more he began to believe it himself.
Summer gave way to fall, and a sort of unrest began in the empire. The Awakened were vexed by a faction of people, who quickly were named the Sleepers because they were not woken and spoke out against the lack of clothing on others. The Awakened began calling for Bob to outlaw the Sleeper movement, and to throw the Sleepers into the dungeon. Hatred and division increased, and the empire became a lousy place to live. Finally, as snow clouds billowed on the horizon, the situation came to a head, and Bob, urged into action by his most outspoken Awakened friends, signed an edict demanding that every subject in his empire gather in the palace courtyard at next day. Dutiful and obedient, every single person in the empire complied. Most were attired in their best Awakened fashions, but a few arrived swaddled in old fashioned boots and sweaters, thick cotton leggings and coats. Bob stood alone on his raised balcony as was the custom, feeling a bit chilled by the gusty wind, listening as the lawyers and pundits argued and called their witnesses. The hearing drew on. A little after noon, stray snowflakes began falling and the wind picked up. At three o’clock, the lawyers for all sides rested their cases. The courtyard grew silent as every eye lifted towards their Emperor. He stood rigid and unmoving. Silence stretched. When, as darkness began to fall and the Emperor still had not spoken, one of the servants, a devoted minion who had spent most of the day inside by the fire, was sent out on the balcony. He approached Bob slowly, carefully touching his arm, “Your Majesty, the people are waiting your verdict.” Instead of speaking, Bob’s arm snapped off and fell to the marble floor. The crowd gasped, realizing that their Emperor was now a frozen statue. Realizing they were now without a leader, the anger and angst that had driven the people boiled over in violence and fear. The old Empress, standing at the back of the courtyard in a warm cape and fur-lined boots wiped a tear from her cheek and turned away as the empire she loved fell into chaos and ruin.
