Interpreting Zohran Mamdani's Style Statement: What His Suit Tells Us About Contemporary Masculinity and a Changing Society.

Growing up in the British capital during the 2000s, I was constantly immersed in a world of suits. They adorned City financiers rushing through the Square Mile. You could spot them on dads in the city's great park, playing with footballs in the golden light. Even school, a cheap grey suit was our required uniform. Traditionally, the suit has served as a costume of gravitas, projecting power and performance—qualities I was told to aspire to to become a "man". Yet, until lately, my generation seemed to wear them infrequently, and they had largely 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 sober black overcoat, pristine white shirt, and a notable silk tie. Riding high by an innovative campaign, he captivated the public's imagination like no other recent contender for city hall. But whether he was celebrating in a hip-hop club or appearing at a film premiere, one thing was largely unchanged: he was frequently in a suit. Loosely tailored, contemporary with unstructured lines, yet conventional, his is a quintessentially middle-class millennial suit—that is, as typical as it can be for a cohort that rarely chooses to wear one.

"The suit is in this weird position," says style commentator Derek Guy. "Its decline has been a slow death since the end of the Second World War," with the real dip arriving in the 1990s alongside "the rise of business casual."

"It's basically only worn in the strictest settings: weddings, funerals, to some extent, legal proceedings," Guy states. "It is like the traditional Japanese robe in Japan," in that it "fundamentally represents a tradition that has long retreated from everyday use." Numerous politicians "wear a suit to say: 'I am a politician, you can have faith in me. You should vote for me. I have legitimacy.'" But while the suit has historically signaled this, today it performs authority in the attempt of gaining public trust. As Guy clarifies: "Because we are also living in a democratic society, 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 drag, in that it enacts masculinity, authority and even proximity to power.

Guy's words resonated deeply. On the rare occasions I need a suit—for a ceremony or black-tie event—I dust off the one I bought from a Tokyo retailer several years ago. When I first picked it up, it made me feel sophisticated and high-end, but its slim cut now feels outdated. I imagine this feeling will be only too familiar for many of us in the global community whose families come from somewhere else, especially global south countries.

Unsurprisingly, 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. Consider the present: more relaxed suits, echoing 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 five years. But the appeal, at least in some quarters, persists: recently, major retailers report suit sales increasing more than 20% as customers "shift from the suit being daily attire towards an desire to invest in something exceptional."

The Symbolism of a Accessible Suit

The mayor's go-to suit is from a contemporary brand, a Dutch label that sells in a moderate price bracket. "He is precisely a product of his background," says Guy. "In his thirties, he's not poor but not exceptionally wealthy." To that end, his mid-level suit will resonate with the demographic most inclined to support him: people in their 30s and 40s, university-educated earning middle-class incomes, often frustrated by the cost of housing. It's precisely the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Not cheap but not lavish, Mamdani's suits arguably don't contradict his stated policies—such as a rent freeze, building affordable homes, and fare-free public buses.

"It's impossible to imagine a former president wearing Suitsupply; he's a luxury Italian suit person," says Guy. "As an immensely wealthy and grew up in that property development world. A status symbol fits naturally with that elite, just as attainable brands fit well with Mamdani's cohort."

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, tailored appearance. Like a certain UK leader discovered, the suit doesn't just dress the politician; it has the potential to define them.

Performance of Banality and Protective Armor

Perhaps the point is what one academic calls the "performance of ordinariness", summoning the suit's long career as a uniform of political power. Mamdani's particular choice leverages a studied modesty, neither shabby nor showy—"respectability politics" in an unobtrusive suit—to help him appeal to as many voters as possible. But, experts think Mamdani would be cognizant of the suit's historical and imperial legacy: "The suit isn't apolitical; historians have long noted that its modern roots lie in imperial administration." It is also seen as a form of protective armor: "I think if you're from a minority background, you might not get taken as seriously in these traditional institutions." The suit becomes a way of signaling legitimacy, particularly to those who might doubt it.

Such sartorial "changing styles" is hardly a new phenomenon. Indeed iconic figures once donned formal Western attire during their early years. These days, certain world leaders have started swapping their typical military wear for a black suit, albeit one without the tie.

"In every seam and stitch of Mamdani's image, the tension between insider and outsider is visible."

The suit Mamdani selects is highly symbolic. "Being the son of immigrants of South Asian heritage and a democratic socialist, he is under pressure to conform to what many American voters expect as a sign of leadership," says one author, while simultaneously needing to navigate carefully by "avoiding the appearance of an elitist selling out his distinctive roots and values."

Yet there is an sharp awareness of the double standards applied to who wears suits and what is read into it. "That may come in part from Mamdani being a millennial, skilled to assume different personas to fit the occasion, but it may also be part of his multicultural background, where code-switching between languages, customs and attire is typical," commentators note. "White males can remain unnoticed," but when others "attempt to gain the power that suits represent," they must meticulously negotiate the codes associated with them.

Throughout the presentation of Mamdani's official image, the tension between somewhere and nowhere, insider and outsider, is evident. I know well the awkwardness of trying to fit into 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 clear, however, is that in public life, image is not without meaning.