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

Growing up in London during the noughties, I was always surrounded by suits. You saw them on City financiers rushing through the financial district. They were worn by fathers in Hyde Park, playing with footballs in the evening light. At school, a cheap grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Historically, the suit has served as a uniform of gravitas, signaling authority and performance—qualities I was expected to embrace to become a "man". However, before lately, my generation seemed to wear them infrequently, and they had all but vanished from my mind.

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

"This garment is in this strange place," says 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 arriving in the 1990s alongside "the advent of business casual."

"It's basically only worn in the most formal settings: weddings, funerals, and sometimes, court appearances," Guy explains. "It is like the kimono in Japan," in that it "fundamentally 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 support me. I have authority.'" But while the suit has historically signaled this, today it enacts 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." In many ways, a suit is just a nuanced form of drag, in that it enacts masculinity, authority and even closeness to power.

Guy's words resonated deeply. On the infrequent times I need a suit—for a wedding or black-tie event—I dust off the one I bought from a Japanese retailer several years ago. When I first picked it up, it made me feel sophisticated and expensive, but its tailored fit now feels outdated. I imagine this feeling will be only too recognizable for numerous people in the diaspora whose parents come from somewhere else, especially global south countries.

It's no surprise, the working man's suit has fallen out of fashion. Like a pair of jeans, a suit's silhouette goes through cycles; a particular 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 cost, it can feel like a significant investment for something likely to be out of fashion within five years. Yet the appeal, at least in some quarters, endures: in the past year, department stores report suit 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 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 reflection of his background," says Guy. "A relatively young person, he's not poor but not extremely wealthy." Therefore, his mid-level suit will resonate with the demographic most inclined to support him: people in their thirties and forties, college graduates earning middle-class incomes, often frustrated by the cost of housing. It's exactly the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Not cheap but not extravagant, Mamdani's suits arguably don't contradict his proposed policies—such as a rent freeze, building affordable homes, and fare-free public buses.

"You could never imagine a former president wearing Suitsupply; he's a luxury Italian suit person," observes Guy. "As an immensely wealthy and grew up in that New York real-estate world. A status symbol fits seamlessly with that elite, just as attainable brands fit naturally with Mamdani's cohort."

The legacy of suits in politics is extensive and rich: from a former president's "shocking" tan suit to other world leaders and their notably polished, custom-fit appearance. Like a certain UK leader learned, the suit doesn't just dress the politician; it has the potential to define them.

Performance of Normality and A Shield

Maybe the point is what one academic calls the "performance of ordinariness", invoking the suit's long career as a standard attire of political power. Mamdani's particular choice leverages a deliberate modesty, not too casual nor too flashy—"conforming to norms" in an inconspicuous suit—to help him connect with as many voters as possible. However, experts think Mamdani would be cognizant of the suit's military and colonial legacy: "The suit isn't neutral; scholars have long pointed out that its modern roots lie in military or colonial administration." Some also view it as a form of protective armor: "I think 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.

Such sartorial "code-switching" is not a new phenomenon. Indeed iconic figures once wore formal Western attire during their formative years. Currently, other world leaders have started swapping their typical fatigues for a dark formal outfit, albeit one without the tie.

"In every seam and stitch of Mamdani's image, the tension between belonging and otherness is apparent."

The suit Mamdani chooses is highly significant. "Being the son of immigrants of Indian descent and a democratic socialist, he is under pressure to meet what many American voters look for as a sign of leadership," notes one expert, while simultaneously needing to navigate carefully by "avoiding the appearance of an establishment figure 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 interpreted from it. "This could stem in part from Mamdani being a younger leader, skilled to assume different identities to fit the situation, but it may also be part of his multicultural background, where code-switching between cultures, customs and attire is typical," commentators note. "White males can go unremarked," but when others "seek to gain the authority that suits represent," they must meticulously navigate the codes associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's public persona, the tension between somewhere and nowhere, insider and outsider, is evident. I know well the discomfort of trying to fit into something not designed with me in mind, be it an cultural expectation, the culture I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's sartorial choices make evident, however, is that in politics, image is not neutral.