Interpreting the New York Mayor's Style Statement: What His Suit Tells Us Regarding Contemporary Masculinity and a Changing Culture.

Coming of age in the British capital during the noughties, I was constantly immersed in a world of suits. They adorned businessmen rushing through the financial district. They were worn by dads in Hyde Park, playing with footballs in the golden light. At school, a inexpensive grey suit was our required uniform. Historically, the suit has functioned as a uniform of gravitas, projecting power and professionalism—traits I was expected to embrace to become a "adult". Yet, before recently, my generation appeared to wear them less and less, and they had all but disappeared from my mind.

Subsequently came the newly elected New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. Taking his oath of office at a private ceremony wearing a subdued black overcoat, pristine white shirt, and a distinctive silk tie. Riding high by an innovative campaign, he captured the world's imagination like no other recent mayoral candidate. But whether he was cheering in a music venue or appearing at a film premiere, one thing was largely constant: he was frequently in a suit. Relaxed in fit, modern with unstructured lines, yet traditional, his is a quintessentially professional millennial suit—that is, as typical as it can be for a generation that rarely chooses to wear one.

"This garment is in this weird place," notes men's fashion writer Derek Guy. "It's been dying a slow death since the end of the Second World War," with the significant drop coming in the 1990s alongside "the rise of business casual."

"Today it is only worn in the most formal settings: weddings, funerals, to some extent, legal proceedings," Guy states. "It's sort of like the traditional Japanese robe in Japan," in that it "essentially represents a tradition that has long ceded from daily life." Numerous politicians "wear a suit to say: 'I represent a politician, you can trust me. You should vote for me. I have authority.'" Although the suit has traditionally signaled this, today it enacts authority in the attempt of gaining public confidence. As Guy clarifies: "Because we are also living in a liberal democracy, politicians want to seem relatable, because they're trying to get your votes." To a large extent, a suit is just a subtle form of performance, in that it enacts manliness, authority and even proximity to power.

This analysis 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 retailer a few years ago. When I first selected it, it made me feel refined and expensive, but its slim cut now feels passé. I imagine this feeling will be all too recognizable for numerous people in the global community whose parents originate in other places, especially developing countries.

It's no surprise, the everyday suit has fallen out of fashion. Similar to a pair of jeans, a suit's silhouette goes through trends; a particular cut can thus define an era—and feel rapidly outdated. Take now: more relaxed suits, echoing a famous cinematic Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be in vogue, but given the cost, it can feel like a considerable investment for something destined to fall out of fashion within five years. But the appeal, at least in some quarters, persists: recently, major retailers report tailoring sales increasing 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 Suitsupply, a European label that retails in a moderate price bracket. "Mamdani is very much a reflection of his upbringing," says Guy. "In his thirties, he's not poor but not extremely wealthy." Therefore, his mid-level suit will appeal to the group most inclined to support him: people in their 30s and 40s, university-educated earning professional incomes, often discontented by the expense of housing. It's exactly the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Affordable but not lavish, Mamdani's suits arguably don't contradict his stated policies—such as a capping rents, building affordable homes, and fare-free public buses.

"It's impossible to imagine a former president wearing Suitsupply; he's a Brioni person," says Guy. "He's extremely wealthy and grew up in that property development world. A status symbol fits naturally with that tycoon class, just as more accessible brands fit well with Mamdani's constituency."

The history of suits in politics is extensive and rich: from a well-known leader's "controversial" tan suit to other world leaders and their notably impeccable, tailored sheen. Like a certain British politician learned, the suit doesn't just clothe the politician; it has the potential to define them.

Performance of Banality and A Shield

Maybe the point is what one scholar refers to the "enactment of ordinariness", summoning the suit's historical role as a standard attire of political power. Mamdani's specific selection leverages a deliberate modesty, not too casual nor too flashy—"respectability politics" in an unobtrusive suit—to help him connect with as many voters as possible. But, some think Mamdani would be cognizant of the suit's historical and imperial legacy: "The suit isn't apolitical; historians have long noted that its contemporary origins lie in military or colonial administration." It is also seen as a form of defensive shield: "I think if you're a person of color, you aren't going to get taken as seriously in these traditional institutions." The suit becomes a way of asserting credibility, perhaps especially to those who might doubt it.

Such sartorial "changing styles" is not a new phenomenon. Indeed historical leaders once donned three-piece suits during their formative years. Currently, certain world leaders have started exchanging their usual military wear for a black suit, albeit one lacking the tie.

"Throughout the fabric of Mamdani's image, the tension between belonging and otherness is apparent."

The attire Mamdani selects is deeply significant. "As a Muslim child of immigrants of South Asian heritage and a progressive politician, he is under scrutiny to meet what many American voters look for as a marker of leadership," notes one expert, while at the same time needing to walk a tightrope by "avoiding the appearance of an establishment figure betraying his non-mainstream roots and values."

But there is an sharp awareness of the double standards applied to suit-wearers and what is interpreted from it. "That may come in part from Mamdani being a millennial, able to adopt different personas to fit the occasion, but it may also be part of his multicultural background, where adapting between cultures, customs and clothing styles is common," it is said. "White males can go unnoticed," but when women and ethnic minorities "attempt to gain the power that suits represent," they must meticulously negotiate the codes associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's public persona, the dynamic between somewhere and nowhere, insider and outsider, is evident. I know well the discomfort of trying to conform to something not built for me, be it an inherited tradition, the culture I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's sartorial choices make evident, however, is that in politics, image is never without meaning.