🔗 Share this article

Growing up in the British capital during the 2000s, I was constantly surrounded by suits. They adorned City financiers rushing through the Square Mile. You could spot them on dads in Hyde Park, playing with footballs in the evening light. Even school, a inexpensive grey suit was our required uniform. Traditionally, the suit has served as a costume of seriousness, signaling authority and professionalism—traits I was told to aspire to to become a "man". Yet, until recently, my generation appeared to wear them infrequently, and they had all but disappeared from my consciousness.

Subsequently came the incoming New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. He was sworn in at a closed ceremony dressed in a subdued black overcoat, pristine white shirt, and a notable silk tie. Propelled by an innovative campaign, he captivated the world's imagination unlike any recent mayoral candidate. But whether he was celebrating in a music venue or attending a film premiere, one thing remained mostly unchanged: he was almost always in a suit. Loosely tailored, modern with unstructured lines, yet conventional, his is a typically middle-class millennial suit—that is, as typical as it can be for a cohort that rarely bothers to wear one.

"This garment is in this strange place," says men's fashion writer Derek Guy. "It's been dying a gradual fade since the end of the second world war," with the real dip coming in the 1990s alongside "the rise of business casual."

"Today it is only worn in the most formal settings: marriages, memorials, to some extent, legal proceedings," Guy explains. "It is like the traditional Japanese robe in Japan," in that it "essentially represents a tradition that has long retreated from everyday use." Numerous politicians "don this attire to say: 'I am a politician, you can trust me. You should vote for me. I have legitimacy.'" Although the suit has traditionally conveyed this, today it performs authority in the attempt of winning public confidence. As Guy elaborates: "Since we're also living in a democratic society, politicians want to seem approachable, because they're trying to get your votes." To a large extent, a suit is just a subtle form of drag, in that it enacts masculinity, authority and even closeness to power.

This analysis stayed with me. On the infrequent times I require a suit—for a wedding or formal occasion—I dust off the one I bought from a Japanese department store several years ago. When I first selected it, it made me feel refined and expensive, but its slim cut now feels passé. I suspect this sensation will be all too familiar for many of us in the global community whose families originate in somewhere else, particularly developing countries.

It's no surprise, the working man's suit has fallen out of fashion. Similar to a pair of jeans, a suit's silhouette goes through cycles; a specific cut can therefore characterize an era—and feel rapidly outdated. Take now: more relaxed suits, reminiscent of a famous cinematic Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be trendy, but given the price, it can feel like a significant investment for something likely to be out of fashion within a few seasons. But the attraction, at least in some quarters, persists: in the past year, department stores report tailoring sales increasing more than 20% as customers "move away from the suit being everyday wear towards an appetite to invest in something exceptional."

The Symbolism of a Mid-Market Suit

Mamdani's preferred suit is from Suitsupply, a European label that retails in a moderate price bracket. "Mamdani is very much a reflection of his upbringing," says Guy. "A relatively young person, he's not poor but not exceptionally wealthy." To that end, his moderately-priced suit will appeal to the group most likely to support him: people in their 30s and 40s, university-educated earning middle-class incomes, often frustrated by the expense of housing. It's precisely the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Not cheap but not lavish, Mamdani's suits plausibly don't contradict his stated policies—such as a capping rents, constructing affordable homes, and free public buses.

"You could never imagine Donald Trump wearing this brand; he's a Brioni person," observes Guy. "He's extremely wealthy and grew up in that property development world. A status symbol fits naturally with that elite, just as more accessible brands fit naturally with Mamdani's constituency."

The legacy of suits in politics is long and storied: from a former president's "shocking" beige attire to other national figures and their suspiciously polished, custom-fit appearance. Like a certain British politician discovered, the suit doesn't just clothe the politician; it has the potential to characterize them.

Performance of Normality and A Shield

Maybe the point is what one scholar refers to the "enactment of ordinariness", invoking the suit's historical role as a uniform of political power. Mamdani's specific selection leverages a studied modesty, neither shabby nor showy—"conforming to norms" in an unobtrusive suit—to help him appeal to as many voters as possible. But, experts think Mamdani would be aware of the suit's historical and imperial legacy: "The suit isn't neutral; historians have long pointed out that its contemporary origins lie in military or colonial administration." It is also seen as a form of protective armor: "It is argued that if you're a person of color, you might not get taken as seriously in these white spaces." The suit becomes a way of asserting legitimacy, particularly to those who might doubt it.

This kind of sartorial "changing styles" is not a new phenomenon. Even historical leaders previously wore formal Western attire during their formative years. Currently, certain world leaders have started swapping their typical military wear for a dark formal outfit, albeit one lacking the tie.

"Throughout the fabric of Mamdani's public persona, the struggle between belonging and otherness is visible."

The attire Mamdani selects is deeply significant. "Being the son of immigrants of South Asian heritage and a progressive politician, he is under scrutiny to meet what many American voters expect as a marker of leadership," notes one expert, while simultaneously needing to navigate carefully by "avoiding the appearance of an establishment figure selling out his distinctive roots and values."

But there is an acute awareness of the different rules applied to who wears suits and what is interpreted from it. "This could stem in part from Mamdani being a younger leader, able to assume different personas to fit the occasion, but it may also be part of his diverse background, where code-switching between cultures, customs and attire is typical," it is said. "Some individuals can remain unnoticed," but when others "seek to gain the authority that suits represent," they must carefully navigate the codes associated with them.

Throughout the presentation of Mamdani's public persona, the dynamic between somewhere and nowhere, insider and outsider, is visible. I know well the discomfort of trying to conform to something not built for me, be it an cultural expectation, the society I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's style decisions make clear, however, is that in politics, image is never neutral.