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Coming of age in London during the 2000s, I was constantly immersed in a world of suits. You saw them on City financiers hurrying through the Square Mile. They were worn by fathers in the city's great park, kicking footballs in the evening light. At school, a cheap grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Historically, the suit has functioned as a uniform of gravitas, projecting power and performance—qualities I was expected to aspire to to become a "man". Yet, until recently, people my age appeared to wear them less and less, and they had largely vanished from my consciousness.

Then came the newly elected New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. Taking his oath of office at a private ceremony dressed in a subdued black overcoat, crisp white shirt, and a notable silk tie. Riding high by an innovative campaign, he captured the world's imagination like no other recent mayoral candidate. Yet whether he was celebrating in a hip-hop club or attending a film premiere, one thing remained largely constant: he was frequently in a suit. Loosely tailored, contemporary with unstructured lines, yet traditional, his is a quintessentially middle-class millennial suit—well, as common as it can be for a cohort that seldom bothers to wear one.

"This garment is in this weird position," notes men's fashion writer 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 rise of business casual."

"Today it is only worn in the strictest settings: marriages, memorials, to some extent, court appearances," Guy states. "It's sort of like the kimono in Japan," in that it "fundamentally represents a tradition that has long retreated from daily life." Numerous politicians "wear a suit to say: 'I represent a politician, you can trust me. You should support me. I have legitimacy.'" Although the suit has historically conveyed 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." In many ways, a suit is just a subtle form of performance, in that it enacts manliness, authority and even proximity to power.

This analysis resonated deeply. On the infrequent times I require a suit—for a ceremony or formal occasion—I dust off the one I bought from a Tokyo department store several years ago. When I first picked it up, it made me feel sophisticated and expensive, but its slim cut now feels passé. I suspect this sensation will be only too familiar for many of us in the global community whose families originate in other places, especially developing countries.

It's no surprise, the everyday suit has fallen out of fashion. Like a pair of jeans, a suit's silhouette goes through trends; a specific cut can thus characterize an era—and feel quickly outdated. Take now: more relaxed 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 destined to fall out of fashion within five years. But the appeal, at least in some quarters, endures: recently, department stores report suit sales increasing more than 20% as customers "move away from the suit being everyday wear towards an desire to invest in something exceptional."

The Politics of a Mid-Market Suit

The mayor's go-to suit is from Suitsupply, a European label that sells in a mid-market price bracket. "He is precisely a product of his background," says Guy. "A relatively young person, he's not poor but not extremely wealthy." To that end, his moderately-priced suit will resonate with the demographic most inclined to support him: people in their thirties and forties, 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 proposed policies—which include a rent freeze, constructing affordable homes, and fare-free public buses.

"It's impossible to imagine Donald Trump wearing this brand; he's a luxury Italian suit person," says Guy. "He's extremely wealthy and was raised in that New York real-estate world. A status symbol fits seamlessly with that tycoon class, just as more accessible brands fit naturally with Mamdani's cohort."

The legacy of suits in politics is long and storied: from a former president's "controversial" beige attire to other world leaders and their suspiciously polished, tailored sheen. Like a certain UK leader discovered, the suit doesn't just clothe the politician; it has the power to define them.

The Act of Banality and Protective Armor

Perhaps the point is what one academic refers to the "enactment of banality", invoking the suit's historical role as a uniform of political power. Mamdani's specific selection taps into a studied understatement, neither shabby nor showy—"respectability politics" in an unobtrusive suit—to help him connect with as many voters as possible. However, some think Mamdani would be aware 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." Some also view it as a form of protective armor: "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 signaling legitimacy, particularly to those who might doubt it.

Such sartorial "changing styles" is not a recent phenomenon. Even historical leaders previously wore formal Western attire during their formative years. Currently, other world leaders have started swapping their typical military wear for a dark formal outfit, albeit one without the tie.

"Throughout the fabric of Mamdani's image, the struggle between insider and outsider is apparent."

The suit Mamdani chooses is highly significant. "Being the son of immigrants of South Asian heritage and a democratic socialist, he is under scrutiny to conform to what many American voters look for as a marker of leadership," notes one expert, while at the same time 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, able to adopt different identities to fit the occasion, but it may also be part of his multicultural background, where adapting between cultures, customs and clothing styles is typical," commentators note. "Some individuals can go unnoticed," but when others "seek to gain the authority that suits represent," they must meticulously negotiate the expectations associated with them.

Throughout the presentation of Mamdani's public persona, the dynamic between somewhere and nowhere, inclusion and exclusion, is visible. I know well the discomfort of trying to conform to something not built for me, be it an inherited tradition, the society I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's style decisions make evident, however, is that in public life, appearance is never without meaning.