Decoding the New York Mayor's Style Choice: What His Suit Reveals Regarding Contemporary Masculinity and a Shifting Society.

Coming of age in the British capital during the 2000s, I was always surrounded by suits. You saw them on businessmen hurrying 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 required uniform. Traditionally, the suit has served as a uniform of gravitas, projecting authority and performance—qualities I was expected to embrace to become a "adult". However, until recently, people my age appeared to wear them less and less, and they had all but disappeared from my consciousness.

Subsequently came the newly elected New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. He was sworn in at a private ceremony wearing a sober black overcoat, pristine white shirt, and a distinctive silk tie. Riding high by an innovative campaign, he captivated the public's imagination like no other recent contender for city hall. Yet whether he was celebrating in a music venue or appearing at a film premiere, one thing remained largely constant: he was frequently in a suit. Relaxed in fit, modern with unstructured lines, yet traditional, his is a typically middle-class millennial suit—well, as common as it can be for a generation that seldom chooses to wear one.

"This garment is in this weird position," notes style commentator 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."

"Today it is only worn in the strictest settings: weddings, funerals, and sometimes, legal proceedings," Guy states. "It is like the kimono in Japan," in that it "essentially represents a custom that has long ceded from everyday use." Many politicians "wear a suit to say: 'I represent a politician, you can have faith in me. You should support me. I have authority.'" Although the suit has historically signaled this, today it performs authority in the attempt of winning public confidence. As Guy elaborates: "Since we're 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 nuanced form of performance, in that it enacts masculinity, authority and even proximity to power.

This analysis resonated deeply. On the infrequent times I require a suit—for a wedding or formal occasion—I retrieve the one I bought from a Japanese retailer a few 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 sensation will be only too recognizable for numerous people in the global community whose families come from other places, particularly developing countries.

Unsurprisingly, the everyday suit has lost fashion. Similar to a pair of jeans, a suit's shape goes through trends; a specific cut can therefore characterize an era—and feel rapidly outdated. Take now: looser-fitting suits, echoing Richard Gere's Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be trendy, but given the price, it can feel like a considerable investment for something likely to fall out of fashion within five years. Yet the appeal, at least in some quarters, persists: recently, department stores report tailoring sales rising more than 20% as customers "move away from the suit being everyday wear towards an appetite to invest in something exceptional."

The Politics of a Mid-Market 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 neither poor nor exceptionally wealthy." Therefore, his mid-level suit will appeal to the demographic most inclined to support him: people in their thirties and forties, university-educated earning middle-class incomes, often frustrated by the cost of housing. It's exactly 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, building affordable homes, and free public buses.

"You could never imagine Donald Trump wearing Suitsupply; he's a luxury Italian suit person," observes 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 cohort."

The history of suits in politics is long and storied: from a well-known leader's "controversial" beige attire to other world leaders and their suspiciously polished, custom-fit appearance. As one UK leader learned, the suit doesn't just clothe the politician; it has the potential to define them.

The Act of Normality and Protective Armor

Maybe the point is what one academic refers to the "performance of ordinariness", invoking the suit's long career as a standard attire of political power. Mamdani's particular choice taps into a studied understatement, neither shabby nor showy—"respectability politics" 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 military and colonial legacy: "This attire isn't apolitical; scholars have long pointed out that its contemporary origins lie in imperial administration." Some also view it as a form of defensive shield: "It is argued that if you're from a minority background, 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 "changing styles" is not a recent phenomenon. Even iconic figures previously wore three-piece suits during their formative years. Currently, certain world leaders have started exchanging their typical fatigues for a dark formal outfit, albeit one without the tie.

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

The suit Mamdani chooses is highly significant. "As a Muslim child of immigrants of South Asian heritage and a progressive politician, he is under pressure to meet what many American voters look for as a sign of leadership," notes one author, while at the same time needing to navigate carefully by "not looking like an establishment figure betraying his distinctive roots and values."

Yet there is an acute awareness of the different rules applied to suit-wearers and what is interpreted from it. "That may come in part from Mamdani being a younger leader, skilled to adopt different personas to fit the occasion, but it may also be part of his diverse background, where adapting between languages, traditions and clothing styles is common," it is said. "White males can remain unremarked," but when women and ethnic minorities "seek to gain the authority that suits represent," they must meticulously navigate the codes associated with them.

Throughout the presentation of Mamdani's official image, the dynamic between belonging and displacement, inclusion and exclusion, is evident. I know well the awkwardness of trying to conform to something not built for me, be it an cultural expectation, the culture I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's sartorial choices make clear, however, is that in politics, appearance is not without meaning.