Understanding Zohran Mamdani's Style Statement: The Garment He Wears Tells Us Regarding Modern Manhood and a Changing Society.

Growing up in the British capital during the noughties, I was constantly surrounded by suits. They adorned businessmen hurrying through the Square Mile. They were worn by dads in the city's great park, playing with footballs in the evening light. At school, a cheap grey suit was our required uniform. Historically, the suit has functioned as a costume of gravitas, projecting authority and professionalism—qualities I was told to aspire to to become a "adult". However, before recently, my generation seemed to wear them less and less, and they had all but disappeared from my consciousness.

Then came the incoming New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. Taking his oath of office at a closed ceremony dressed in a sober black overcoat, pristine white shirt, and a notable silk tie. Riding high by an ingenious campaign, he captivated the public's imagination unlike any recent mayoral candidate. But whether he was celebrating in a hip-hop club or appearing at a film premiere, one thing was mostly unchanged: he was frequently in a suit. Relaxed in fit, modern with soft shoulders, yet conventional, his is a quintessentially professional millennial suit—that is, as common as it can be for a cohort that rarely chooses to wear one.

"This garment is in this strange place," notes 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 advent of business casual."

"It's basically only worn in the most formal locations: marriages, memorials, and sometimes, legal proceedings," Guy states. "It's sort of like the kimono in Japan," in that it "essentially represents a tradition that has long retreated from everyday use." Numerous politicians "wear a suit to say: 'I represent a politician, you can trust me. You should support me. I have legitimacy.'" Although the suit has historically conveyed this, today it performs authority in the hope of gaining public confidence. As Guy elaborates: "Because we are 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 subtle form of drag, in that it performs masculinity, authority and even proximity to power.

Guy's words stayed with me. On the infrequent times I require a suit—for a ceremony or formal occasion—I retrieve the one I bought from a Japanese department store a few years ago. When I first picked it up, it made me feel refined and high-end, but its tailored fit now feels outdated. I imagine this feeling will be all too recognizable for many of us in the global community whose families come from somewhere else, especially developing countries.

It's no surprise, the everyday suit has lost fashion. Like a pair of jeans, a suit's silhouette goes through cycles; a specific cut can thus define an era—and feel rapidly outdated. Take now: looser-fitting suits, reminiscent of a famous cinematic Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be in vogue, but given the price, it can feel like a significant investment for something destined to be out of fashion within a few seasons. But the appeal, at least in some quarters, persists: recently, major retailers report tailoring sales rising more than 20% as customers "shift from the suit being daily attire towards an desire to invest in something special."

The Politics of a Accessible Suit

Mamdani's preferred suit is from a contemporary brand, a Dutch label that retails in a moderate price bracket. "Mamdani is very much a product of his background," says Guy. "In his thirties, he's neither poor nor extremely wealthy." Therefore, his moderately-priced suit will resonate with the demographic most inclined to support him: people in their thirties and forties, university-educated earning professional incomes, often discontented by the expense of housing. It's precisely the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Affordable but not lavish, Mamdani's suits plausibly don't contradict his stated policies—which include a capping rents, constructing affordable homes, and free public buses.

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

The legacy of suits in politics is extensive and rich: from a well-known leader's "controversial" beige attire to other world leaders and their notably impeccable, custom-fit appearance. As one UK leader learned, the suit doesn't just dress the politician; it has the power to characterize them.

Performance of Banality and Protective Armor

Maybe the point is what one academic refers to the "performance of banality", summoning the suit's historical role as a standard attire of political power. Mamdani's specific selection taps into a studied understatement, not too casual nor too flashy—"conforming to norms" in an unobtrusive suit—to help him appeal to as many voters as possible. However, some think Mamdani would be aware of the suit's historical and imperial legacy: "This attire isn't apolitical; scholars have long pointed out that its contemporary origins lie in imperial administration." It is also seen as a form of defensive shield: "It is argued that if you're from a minority background, you aren't going to get taken as seriously in these traditional institutions." The suit becomes a way of signaling legitimacy, particularly to those who might question it.

Such sartorial "code-switching" is hardly a new phenomenon. Even historical leaders once wore three-piece suits during their formative years. Currently, other world leaders have started exchanging their usual military wear for a black suit, albeit one lacking the tie.

"In every seam and stitch of Mamdani's public persona, the struggle between insider and outsider is apparent."

The attire Mamdani selects is highly symbolic. "As a Muslim child of immigrants of Indian descent and a progressive politician, he is under scrutiny to conform to what many American voters look for as a sign of leadership," says one author, while simultaneously needing to walk a tightrope by "not looking like an elitist selling out his distinctive roots and values."

But there is an sharp awareness of the different rules applied to suit-wearers and what is read into it. "This could stem in part from Mamdani being a younger leader, able to adopt different personas to fit the situation, but it may also be part of his diverse background, where code-switching between languages, customs and attire is typical," it is said. "Some individuals can remain unremarked," but when others "attempt to gain the authority that suits represent," they must carefully navigate the codes associated with them.

Throughout the presentation of Mamdani's official image, the tension between somewhere and nowhere, insider and outsider, is visible. I know well the awkwardness of trying to fit into something not built for me, be it an cultural expectation, the culture I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's style decisions make evident, however, is that in public life, image is not neutral.