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As many of us now know, it's not all green "jamba" suits in the style of Kim Jong-il but a rather more Westernized and slightly modern ― though still rather uniform and drab ― collection of suits and trends for the modern Pyongyangite. Articles on these outfits will likely be added to as the next U.S.-DPRK summit approaches and people pore over photos of Chairman Kim, his wife Ri Sol-ju and his sister Kim Yo-jong looking for clues into the North Korean life.
Only last month eagle-eyed analysts were bringing to light the leader's current smokes of choice, the type of ashtray used, and whether his Savile Row black pinstripe flared trousers were increasing in diameter.
Yet it is not the attire of the North that provoked the most discussion here in the South this week. The conversation was of an entirely different nature and prompted by comments and proposed guidelines from the Minister of Gender Equality and Family (MOGEF).
Jin Sun-mee, minister for this department, lamented that all the singers on her television "looked the same": skinny, similar hairstyles, and with rather revealing outfits.
Nevertheless, it wasn't so much this opinion that prompted a lot of the digital backlash that would follow. It was that this claim of homogeneity among the starlets then formed the basis for a new set of guidelines that were to be given to television broadcasters in an effort to increase diversity on our screens.
The intentions were seemingly noble and designed to reflect some of the social movements that have risen to prominence over the past couple of years, including the "escape the corset" and no makeup approaches that have seen a lot of women eschew what they rightly see as unfair beauty standards and patriarchal demands for femininity.
Yet in a country that still reflects perhaps more frequently on the 1970s and '80s than any of its Western counterparts, one could not help recall images and reports of heavy-handed "chong-chong" fashion authorities roaming the streets with rulers to measure men's hair and the lengths of women's skirts.
After an online petition to the Blue House and not-so complimentary comments from other politicians, the ministry has since withdrawn its guidelines related to appearance and said that its intentions had been misapprehended.
The ministry's plan was seemingly to show less titillation in the shape of young pop stars gyrating their way across stages. The sexiness levels of K-pop are pretty high admittedly, but it is compounded by three other factors.
First, Korea is traditionally a socially conservative country and is now seemingly only coming to terms with the rise of sexual expression as a legitimate form of art. This can cause quite the disconnect between generations sitting around televisions on a Friday evening waiting for the fried chicken to arrive.
Second, there is an undercurrent of a "Lolita" phenomenon here that promotes the attractiveness of youth, particularly in females, to a sometimes worrying degree. School uniforms and the refusal to acknowledge the performers as adults who have romantic relationships create a Peter Pan-esque fantasy for many viewers and fans.
And this ties into the third: a pleasingly growing number of women with a political voice who, with increased education levels and economic independence that frees them from familial duties, are refusing to be continually used and objectified in a way that was both patriarchal and misogynistic.
In a very general sense, none of these are unique to Korea. The Spice Girls were replaced by Nicky Minaj's Anaconda and Britney Spear's own school girl appeal was played up as intensely as the MeToo movement has now gripped much of North America. Yet, while the broad strokes are the same, the historical idiosyncrasies are different.
Changing a culture is a devilishly difficult if not impossible task ― like eating soup with a fork. Just when you think you're getting somewhere, it all slips away from you.
Culture is more akin to a sponge: it soaks up and absorbs things. It expands and grows. Shrinks and splinters. Yet it does all this relatively naturally and organically through the socialized relations of people and the ephemeral spirit of the times.
Governments and ministries are right to care for the economic, cultural and moral welfare of their citizens and they should be applauded for doing so because a quick glance around Northeast Asia will demonstrate that there are many other choices than democracy that our rulers could take were they so bent on it.
But for a successful democratic state, just like parents, they should do this by trusting, respecting and granting freedom to people. If some people want to watch scantily clad cookie-cutter music groups, then we should let them. There are literally 100 other channels available, and that's before we even start on what the internet has.
The Ministry of Gender and Equality would also do well to look at the success of the recent Korean box-office smash "Extreme Job." This is proving to be one of the most popular films in the country's history.
It's a truly fantastic piece of comedy and, moreover, it appeals to all those Korean cultural manifestations you read about in books, concepts such as "han" and "jeong." It's about real, genuine social relationships between a group of disparate people and there's nary a miniskirt or lipsticked-beauty in sight.
If there was more high-quality entertainment like this, it has been demonstrated that people will contribute their time and money to its success.
So, the lesson to be learned would be is this: don't restrict people's freedom or choices. Rather, give them high-quality alternatives and let them make up their own minds.
And just in case you are wondering, no of course I don't think all Koreans look the same. It was a Korean that said that.
David Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) is an assistant professor at Seoul Women's University.
