The state has no legitimate interest in your sleeve length
"We don't recognize your units, your taxes, or your government. We just make shirts. Illegally."*
Custom clothing for individuals who recognize no authority over their neck size, cuff preference, choice of measurement unit, or completely unnecessary number of pockets. Inches, centimeters, barleycorns, cubits, socket-lengths and privately negotiated nonsense are all welcome.
Clothing for people who don't belong to anyone
We're not a business. We're a textile resistance cell. We don't file taxes. We don't ask permission. We sew in silence and ship in secrecy.
Every shirt is a rejection of tyranny and polyester blends. Our supply chain is invisible, our ledger is encrypted, and our location is undisclosed. We are the invisible hand of the market, sewing away from its prying eyes.
Your chest is not a tax base. Your sleeves are not an infrastructure project. The state cannot claim 30% of your shirt and call the remaining fabric disposable income.
He advocates for fewer barriers to textile consumption. We have accused him of regulatory capture, which he insists is just being trapped in the closet.
Every spool is a sovereign subcontractor. The buttons refuse a collective bargaining unit. The zipper has seceded twice and is currently demanding recognition as a separate pair of pants.
Our operating model
Ungoverned Threads was founded on one radical idea: two adults should be able to agree on a cuff without convening a standards body.
Resistance wear
There are no standard sizes. "Medium" is just central planning with armholes. Every garment dossier assumes the wearer will provide dimensions under a system of their own choosing.
Crafted for the man who knows his GPS coordinates by heart and his taxes by never. For leaving polite society while remaining aggressively capable of attending dinner. Two chest pockets, both privately held.
Offends Karens on sight. Wear this when you need to assert your property rights and aesthetic independence. A relaxed V-neck for mowing at 7:01 a.m., painting your mailbox the forbidden shade, and planting native species without submitting Form 14-B.
Will not initiate force. But will respond with passive-aggressive stitching. The perfect shirt for polite anarchists. Will not initiate force against your shoulders. May defend itself against fabric softener, neck tags, and compulsory team-building polos.
Warm enough to withstand hyperinflation. Wear it while stacking physical gold or burning fiat for warmth. Plaid that is not indexed to CPI, seasonally adjusted, revised next quarter, or explained by a man standing at a podium.
Pre-dates the Constitution because it doesn't care. For those who believe the only legitimate social contract is the one you sign yourself. Formal enough for the convention, independent enough to leave before anyone starts drafting enumerated powers.
Send a sketch, a fabric preference, twelve contradictory requirements, and dimensions in seven unrelated units. Our standards committee will resign immediately and the tailor will finally get to work.
Draft your dimensionsMeasurement sovereignty
"Your chest may be 42 inches, 106.68 centimeters, 48 barleycorns plus a questionable thumb, or 1.7 of a stick you found in the garage."
Freedom isn't standardized. Send your measurements in inches, centimeters, shotgun shells, banana lengths, or freedom cubits. Just swear on Hayek's grave that you're not a government inspector.
The only requirement is mutual intelligibility. If you invent a unit, define it. That is not regulation. That is two people agreeing what the hell you mean.
Voluntary exchange. Involuntary lecture.
No banks. No fiat. No approval. We trade in value, not government promises.
ACCEPTED: Monero (XMR), PirateChain (ARRR), physical gold and silver, Bitcoin, ammo, non-GMO seeds, barter, and a unit you invented behind a shed.
NO USD. NO VISA. NO FEDCOIN.
No fiat. No PayPal. No Stripe. No W-9s. No receipts. Government IOUs may be submitted to our Department of Kindling.
You are free to use dollars. We are free to recoil as though you just offered to nationalize our sewing machine. Voluntary exchange includes our right to make this spectacularly inconvenient.
Our strongest position: coercion bad.
Our second strongest position: arguing about money for four hours is still cheaper than attending a zoning hearing.
Department of transportation: disbanded
Shipping zones: Unincorporated America, Free Counties, Seasteads & Nomad Bunkers. The delivery window is between now and the collapse of centralized authority.
The parcel has already declared independence. Asking it to declare its contents would violate its newly written constitution, which is also the packing slip.
Drop points only. Deliveries coordinated via dead drops and encrypted messengers. The messenger knows where the shirt is. The shirt knows where the messenger is. You are not entitled to their private correspondence.
May arrive in a crate, satchel, or buried in a box of raw oats. Please check the oats before complaining. Several customers have accidentally fed their formalwear to a horse.
But who will build the roads? Read the logistics department's increasingly expensive answer.
Frequently resisted questions
It may inform you. It may not compel you.
No. Those are collectivist buckets imposed on unique torsos by warehouse economics. You provide dimensions. The shirt deals with reality.
Absolutely. Centimeters are innocent. Mandatory centimeters are where the pamphlet gets longer.
Yes. Neck in inches, chest in centimeters, sleeve in barleycorns, shoulder width in a unit defined by the length of your missing 10 mm socket. The form preserves each exactly as entered.
Yes. Define it well enough that another human can reproduce the measurement. "About yea big" is admissible evidence but terrible engineering.
No. You made a contract. Honor it. Caveat emptor has never been more relevant. Appeals go to a 46-page philosophical dispute over whether ownership ever truly transferred. The arbitrator is your shirt, which has already taken your side against the washing machine*.
Define "legal." We consider any voluntary exchange between consenting adults to be legitimate. Governments may disagree. We don't care. Our legal department is one bookmarked PDF and a man who keeps saying "maritime law" at a sewing machine*.
They're made in a location that doesn't appear on any government map by people who don't exist in any database. That's the only answer you get. The country-of-origin label reads "nice try"*.
Then you should have used better units. Or consider it a reminder that in a free market, responsibility rests with the individual. The banana-length standard works best when you don't eat the reference banana halfway through.
Forty-seven competing road entrepreneurs, each charging a separate toll to move your shirt six feet. We have never been this free or this late.
We don't even acknowledge the concept of sales tax. Taxation is theft, and we don't participate in theft. Our Department of Revenue Response consists of an unplugged fax machine under a framed picture of Murray Rothbard. The fax machine has been instructed to remain uncooperative*.
Founding document
Fourteen articles establishing torso sovereignty, private pockets, voluntary collars and the permanent abolition of the Mandatory Tuck Commission.
Field dispatches
Taxes, monetary secession, private roads, why medium is a collectivist fiction, and how the Bureau of Sleeve Length lost jurisdiction.
Useful despite ourselves
Neck, chest, shoulders, sleeves and body length explained clearly enough to survive an anarchist committee meeting.
