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Growing up in London during the noughties, I was always surrounded by suits. They adorned businessmen rushing through the Square Mile. They were worn by dads in Hyde Park, kicking footballs in the evening light. Even school, a cheap grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Traditionally, the suit has served as a uniform of gravitas, projecting power and professionalism—traits I was told to aspire to to become a "adult". However, until recently, my generation appeared to wear them infrequently, and they had largely disappeared from my mind.

Subsequently came the newly elected New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. He was sworn in at a closed ceremony wearing a subdued black overcoat, pristine white shirt, and a notable silk tie. Propelled by an ingenious campaign, he captured the world's imagination unlike any recent contender for city hall. Yet whether he was celebrating in a music venue or appearing at a film premiere, one thing remained mostly constant: he was frequently in a suit. Loosely tailored, contemporary with unstructured lines, yet conventional, his is a quintessentially middle-class millennial suit—that is, as typical as it can be for a generation that seldom bothers to wear one.

"The suit is in this strange place," notes men's fashion writer Derek Guy. "Its decline has been a gradual fade since the end of the Second World War," with the significant drop coming in the 1990s alongside "the advent of business casual."

"It's basically only worn in the strictest settings: marriages, funerals, and sometimes, legal proceedings," Guy explains. "It is like the traditional Japanese robe in Japan," in that it "fundamentally represents a tradition that has long retreated from everyday use." Many politicians "don this attire to say: 'I represent a politician, you can have faith in me. You should vote for me. I have legitimacy.'" Although the suit has traditionally conveyed this, today it enacts authority in the hope of winning public trust. As Guy clarifies: "Since we're 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 closeness to power.

Guy's words stayed with me. On the rare occasions I require a suit—for a wedding or formal occasion—I dust off the one I bought from a Japanese retailer several 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 recognizable for numerous people in the diaspora whose parents come from somewhere else, especially global south countries.

Unsurprisingly, the everyday suit has lost fashion. Similar to a pair of jeans, a suit's silhouette goes through trends; a specific cut can therefore characterize an era—and feel quickly outdated. Take now: more relaxed suits, echoing a famous cinematic Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be trendy, but given the price, it can feel like a significant investment for something likely to fall out of fashion within a few seasons. Yet the attraction, 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 appetite to invest in something exceptional."

The Symbolism of a Mid-Market Suit

Mamdani's preferred suit is from Suitsupply, a European label that sells in a moderate price bracket. "He is precisely a reflection of his upbringing," says Guy. "A relatively young person, he's not poor but not extremely wealthy." To that end, his mid-level suit will appeal to the demographic most inclined to support him: people in their 30s and 40s, university-educated 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 plausibly align with his stated policies—which include a capping rents, building affordable homes, and fare-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 grew up in that property development world. A status symbol fits seamlessly with that tycoon class, just as attainable brands fit naturally with Mamdani's constituency."

The legacy of suits in politics is extensive and rich: from a former president's "shocking" beige attire to other national figures and their notably impeccable, tailored appearance. Like a certain British politician learned, the suit doesn't just dress the politician; it has the power to characterize them.

Performance of Normality and A Shield

Maybe the point is what one scholar calls the "performance of banality", 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 unobtrusive suit—to help him connect with as many voters as possible. But, some think Mamdani would be aware of the suit's historical and imperial legacy: "The suit isn't apolitical; historians have long pointed out that its modern roots lie in imperial administration." Some also view it 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 white spaces." The suit becomes a way of signaling credibility, particularly to those who might doubt it.

Such sartorial "changing styles" is hardly a recent phenomenon. Indeed historical leaders once donned formal Western attire during their early years. Currently, other world leaders have started exchanging their typical military wear for a dark formal outfit, albeit one lacking the tie.

"Throughout the fabric of Mamdani's public persona, the struggle between insider and outsider is visible."

The attire Mamdani selects is deeply significant. "As a Muslim child of immigrants of Indian descent and a progressive politician, he is under scrutiny to meet what many American voters expect as a marker of leadership," says one expert, while simultaneously needing to navigate carefully by "avoiding the appearance of an elitist selling out his non-mainstream roots and values."

But there is an acute 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 millennial, skilled to adopt different personas to fit the situation, but it may also be part of his multicultural background, where adapting between languages, traditions and clothing styles is common," commentators note. "Some individuals can go unremarked," but when women and ethnic minorities "seek to gain the power that suits represent," they must carefully navigate the codes associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's official image, the dynamic between belonging and displacement, insider and outsider, is evident. I know well the discomfort of trying to conform to something not built for me, be it an cultural expectation, the society I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's sartorial choices make clear, however, is that in public life, image is not without meaning.