Understanding the New York Mayor's Style Statement: What His Suit Reveals About Modern Manhood and a Shifting Society.

Coming of age in the British capital during the noughties, I was constantly surrounded by suits. You saw them on City financiers rushing through the Square Mile. They were worn by dads in the city's great park, kicking footballs in the golden light. Even school, a inexpensive grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Traditionally, the suit has served as a uniform of gravitas, signaling authority and professionalism—qualities I was expected to embrace to become a "man". Yet, 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 dressed in a subdued black overcoat, crisp white shirt, and a distinctive silk tie. Riding high by an innovative campaign, he captured the public's imagination unlike any recent mayoral candidate. But whether he was cheering in a hip-hop club or appearing at a film premiere, one thing remained mostly constant: he was frequently in a suit. Loosely tailored, modern with unstructured lines, yet conventional, his is a typically middle-class millennial suit—well, as typical as it can be for a cohort 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 real dip coming in the 1990s alongside "the advent of business casual."

"Today it is only worn in the strictest locations: marriages, funerals, and sometimes, court appearances," 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." Many politicians "don this attire to say: 'I am a politician, you can have faith in me. You should vote for me. I have authority.'" But while the suit has traditionally signaled this, today it enacts authority in the hope of gaining public trust. As Guy elaborates: "Because we are also living in a liberal democracy, politicians want to seem relatable, because they're trying to get your votes." In many ways, a suit is just a subtle form of performance, in that it performs manliness, authority and even proximity to power.

Guy's words resonated deeply. On the infrequent times I need a suit—for a ceremony or formal occasion—I retrieve the one I bought from a Tokyo retailer a few years ago. When I first selected it, it made me feel sophisticated and high-end, but its tailored fit now feels passé. I suspect this feeling will be only too familiar for many of us in the global community whose families originate in other places, especially global south countries.

It's no surprise, the working man's suit has lost fashion. Like a pair of jeans, a suit's silhouette goes through trends; a particular cut can thus characterize an era—and feel quickly outdated. Consider the present: more relaxed suits, echoing Richard Gere's Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be in vogue, but given the price, it can feel like a considerable investment for something likely to be out of fashion within a few seasons. But the appeal, at least in some quarters, endures: in the past year, major retailers report tailoring sales increasing more than 20% as customers "shift from the suit being everyday wear towards an desire to invest in something special."

The Symbolism of a Mid-Market Suit

The mayor's go-to suit is from Suitsupply, a Dutch label that retails in a moderate price bracket. "He is precisely a product of his upbringing," says Guy. "A relatively young person, he's not poor but not extremely wealthy." Therefore, his moderately-priced suit will appeal to the demographic most inclined to support him: people in their thirties and forties, college graduates earning middle-class incomes, often frustrated by the expense of housing. It's exactly the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Not cheap but not extravagant, Mamdani's suits plausibly align with 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. "As an immensely wealthy and was raised in that property development world. A power suit fits naturally with that elite, just as more accessible brands fit well with Mamdani's cohort."

The history of suits in politics is long and storied: from a former president's "controversial" tan suit to other national figures and their suspiciously polished, tailored appearance. As one UK leader discovered, the suit doesn't just clothe the politician; it has the potential to define them.

The Act of Banality and A Shield

Maybe the key 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 taps into a studied modesty, neither shabby nor showy—"conforming to norms" in an inconspicuous suit—to help him appeal to as many voters as possible. But, some think Mamdani would be aware of the suit's military and colonial legacy: "This attire isn't apolitical; scholars have long noted that its modern roots 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 aren't going to get taken as seriously in these traditional institutions." The suit becomes a way of asserting legitimacy, perhaps especially to those who might doubt it.

Such sartorial "code-switching" is not a new phenomenon. Even historical leaders previously donned three-piece suits during their early years. Currently, other world leaders have started swapping their usual fatigues for a black suit, albeit one lacking the tie.

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

The suit Mamdani selects is deeply symbolic. "As a Muslim child of immigrants of Indian descent and a democratic socialist, he is under scrutiny 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 elitist selling out his distinctive roots and values."

But there is an acute awareness of the double standards applied to who wears suits and what is interpreted from it. "That may come in part from Mamdani being a millennial, able to assume different identities to fit the situation, but it may also be part of his diverse background, where adapting between languages, customs and attire is common," it is said. "Some individuals can remain unremarked," but when others "seek to gain the power that suits represent," they must carefully negotiate the codes associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's public persona, the tension between somewhere and nowhere, inclusion and exclusion, is visible. I know well the discomfort of trying to fit into something not built for me, be it an cultural expectation, the society I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's style decisions make evident, however, is that in public life, image is never neutral.