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

Coming of age in the British capital during the noughties, I was always immersed in a world of suits. They adorned City financiers rushing through the financial district. You could spot them on fathers in the city's great park, playing with footballs in the golden light. At school, a cheap grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Traditionally, the suit has functioned as a uniform of gravitas, signaling authority and professionalism—qualities I was expected to aspire to to become a "adult". However, until lately, people my age seemed to wear them infrequently, and they had largely disappeared from my mind.

Then came the incoming New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. He was sworn in at a closed ceremony dressed in a subdued black overcoat, crisp white shirt, and a distinctive silk tie. Riding high by an ingenious campaign, he captivated the public's imagination like no other recent mayoral candidate. But whether he was cheering in a music venue or appearing at a film premiere, one thing remained mostly constant: he was almost always in a suit. Loosely tailored, contemporary with soft shoulders, yet conventional, his is a quintessentially middle-class millennial suit—well, as typical as it can be for a cohort that seldom bothers to wear one.

"This garment is in this strange position," says style commentator Derek Guy. "It's been dying a gradual fade since the end of the second world war," with the significant drop arriving in the 1990s alongside "the advent of business casual."

"Today it is only worn in the strictest locations: weddings, memorials, and sometimes, court appearances," Guy explains. "It is like the kimono in Japan," in that it "essentially represents a tradition that has long retreated from daily life." Many politicians "don this attire to say: 'I am a politician, you can trust me. You should vote for me. I have legitimacy.'" But while the suit has traditionally signaled this, today it performs authority in the hope of gaining public confidence. As Guy clarifies: "Because we are also living in a liberal democracy, politicians want to seem approachable, because they're trying to get your votes." In many ways, a suit is just a subtle form of drag, in that it enacts masculinity, authority and even closeness to power.

Guy's words resonated deeply. On the rare occasions I require a suit—for a ceremony or formal occasion—I retrieve the one I bought from a Japanese department store several years ago. When I first picked it up, it made me feel refined and high-end, but its tailored fit now feels outdated. I imagine this feeling will be all too familiar for numerous people in the diaspora whose parents come from other places, especially global south countries.

It's no surprise, the everyday suit has fallen out of fashion. Similar to a pair of jeans, a suit's shape goes through trends; a particular cut can therefore define an era—and feel rapidly outdated. Take now: looser-fitting suits, reminiscent of Richard Gere's Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be in vogue, but given the price, it can feel like a significant investment for something destined to fall out of fashion within a few seasons. But the appeal, at least in some quarters, persists: in the past year, major retailers report suit sales rising 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

Mamdani's preferred suit is from a contemporary brand, a European label that sells 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." To that end, his moderately-priced suit will appeal to the group most likely to support him: people in their thirties and forties, college graduates earning professional incomes, often discontented by the cost of housing. It's precisely the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Affordable but not lavish, Mamdani's suits arguably align with his proposed policies—such as a rent freeze, building affordable homes, and fare-free public buses.

"You could never imagine a former president wearing this brand; he's a luxury Italian suit person," observes Guy. "As an immensely wealthy and was raised in that New York real-estate world. A power suit fits seamlessly with that elite, just as attainable brands fit naturally with Mamdani's constituency."

The legacy of suits in politics is long and storied: from a well-known leader's "shocking" tan suit to other world leaders and their notably polished, tailored sheen. Like a certain UK leader discovered, the suit doesn't just clothe the politician; it has the power to characterize them.

The Act of Banality and Protective Armor

Maybe the point is what one scholar calls the "enactment of ordinariness", summoning the suit's long career as a standard attire of political power. Mamdani's specific selection leverages a studied modesty, not too casual nor too flashy—"respectability politics" in an unobtrusive 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: "The suit isn't neutral; scholars have long noted that its contemporary origins lie in imperial administration." It is also seen as a form of protective armor: "It is argued that if you're a person of color, you might not get taken as seriously in these traditional institutions." The suit becomes a way of signaling credibility, particularly to those who might doubt it.

This kind of sartorial "code-switching" is hardly a recent phenomenon. Even iconic figures once donned three-piece suits during their early years. These days, other world leaders have started exchanging their usual 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 selects is deeply symbolic. "Being the son of immigrants of Indian descent and a progressive politician, he is under scrutiny to meet what many American voters look for as a sign of leadership," says one expert, while simultaneously needing to navigate carefully by "not looking like an elitist selling out his non-mainstream roots and values."

But 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 younger leader, able to assume different personas to fit the occasion, but it may also be part of his multicultural background, where adapting between cultures, traditions and clothing styles is common," commentators note. "Some individuals can go unremarked," but when women and ethnic minorities "attempt to gain the authority that suits represent," they must carefully negotiate the expectations associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's official image, the tension between somewhere and nowhere, insider and outsider, is visible. I know well the discomfort 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 evident, however, is that in public life, image is never neutral.