Interpreting Zohran Mamdani's Sartorial Statement: What His Suit Reveals Regarding Modern Manhood and a Changing Society.

Growing up in the British capital during the noughties, I was always immersed in a world of suits. You saw them on businessmen rushing through the Square Mile. They were worn by dads in Hyde Park, playing with footballs in the evening light. Even school, a cheap grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Historically, the suit has served as a costume of gravitas, projecting authority and professionalism—traits I was told to aspire to to become a "man". However, before lately, people my age appeared to wear them infrequently, and they had largely disappeared from my mind.

Then came the incoming New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. Taking his oath of office at a private ceremony dressed in a sober black overcoat, crisp white shirt, and a distinctive silk tie. Propelled by an ingenious campaign, he captured the public's imagination like no other recent mayoral candidate. Yet whether he was celebrating in a music venue or attending a film premiere, one thing was mostly unchanged: he was frequently in a suit. Relaxed in fit, modern with unstructured lines, yet conventional, his is a quintessentially professional millennial suit—that is, as common as it can be for a cohort that rarely bothers to wear one.

"This garment is in this weird place," notes men's fashion writer Derek Guy. "Its decline has been a gradual fade since the end of the Second World War," with the real dip arriving in the 1990s alongside "the advent of business casual."

"Today it is only worn in the strictest settings: marriages, funerals, and sometimes, court appearances," Guy states. "It's sort of like the kimono in Japan," in that it "essentially represents a custom that has long ceded from daily life." Numerous politicians "don this attire to say: 'I am a politician, you can trust me. You should support me. I have authority.'" But while the suit has traditionally conveyed this, today it performs authority in the attempt of gaining public trust. 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." In many ways, a suit is just a nuanced form of performance, in that it performs manliness, authority and even closeness to power.

This analysis resonated deeply. On the rare occasions I require a suit—for a wedding or black-tie event—I retrieve the one I bought from a Japanese retailer a few years ago. When I first selected it, it made me feel sophisticated and expensive, but its slim cut now feels passé. I imagine this sensation will be all too recognizable for many of us in the global community whose parents originate in other places, especially global south countries.

It's no surprise, the everyday suit has lost fashion. Like a pair of jeans, a suit's shape goes through trends; a particular cut can thus characterize an era—and feel quickly outdated. Take now: more relaxed suits, echoing a famous cinematic Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be trendy, but given the price, it can feel like a considerable investment for something destined to be out of fashion within five years. But the appeal, at least in some quarters, persists: in the past year, major retailers report suit sales increasing more than 20% as customers "move away from the suit being daily attire towards an appetite to invest in something exceptional."

The Symbolism of a Accessible Suit

The mayor's go-to suit is from Suitsupply, a Dutch label that retails in a mid-market price bracket. "He is precisely a reflection of his upbringing," says Guy. "In his thirties, he's neither poor nor exceptionally wealthy." To that end, his mid-level suit will appeal to the group most likely to support him: people in their thirties and forties, college graduates earning professional incomes, often discontented by the cost of housing. It's exactly the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Not cheap but not extravagant, Mamdani's suits plausibly align with his proposed policies—which include a capping rents, constructing affordable homes, and free public buses.

"It's impossible to imagine Donald Trump wearing this brand; he's a luxury Italian suit person," says Guy. "He's extremely wealthy and grew up in that property development world. A power suit fits seamlessly with that tycoon class, just as more accessible brands fit well with Mamdani's constituency."

The legacy of suits in politics is long and storied: from a well-known leader's "shocking" tan suit to other national figures and their notably impeccable, tailored sheen. Like a certain British politician discovered, the suit doesn't just dress the politician; it has the potential to characterize them.

The Act of Banality and A Shield

Maybe the key is what one scholar refers to the "enactment of ordinariness", invoking the suit's historical role as a uniform of political power. Mamdani's particular choice leverages a deliberate understatement, neither shabby nor showy—"conforming to norms" in an inconspicuous suit—to help him connect with as many voters as possible. However, some think Mamdani would be cognizant of the suit's historical and imperial legacy: "This attire isn't neutral; scholars have long pointed out that its modern roots lie in military or colonial administration." It is also seen as a form of defensive shield: "It is argued that if you're a person of color, you might not get taken as seriously in these traditional institutions." The suit becomes a way of asserting legitimacy, particularly to those who might question it.

This kind of sartorial "code-switching" is hardly a recent phenomenon. Even iconic figures previously wore three-piece suits during their early years. These days, certain world leaders have begun exchanging their usual fatigues for a dark formal outfit, albeit one without the tie.

"Throughout the fabric of Mamdani's image, the tension between insider and outsider is visible."

The attire Mamdani chooses is deeply significant. "Being the son of immigrants of Indian descent and a progressive politician, he is under pressure to conform to what many American voters expect as a sign of leadership," notes one expert, while at the same time needing to walk a tightrope by "not looking like an elitist selling out his non-mainstream roots and values."

But there is an acute awareness of the different rules applied to who wears suits and what is read into it. "This could stem in part from Mamdani being a younger leader, able to adopt different identities to fit the situation, but it may also be part of his diverse background, where adapting between cultures, customs and attire is typical," it is said. "White males can remain unnoticed," but when others "seek to gain the power that suits represent," they must meticulously navigate the codes associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's public persona, the tension between belonging and displacement, inclusion and exclusion, is visible. I know well the awkwardness of trying to conform to something not designed with me in mind, be it an inherited tradition, the society I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's sartorial choices make evident, however, is that in politics, appearance is not without meaning.