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Coming of age in the British capital during the 2000s, I was constantly immersed in a world of suits. You saw them on businessmen hurrying through the Square Mile. They were worn by dads in the city's great park, kicking footballs in the evening light. At school, a inexpensive grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Historically, the suit has served as a costume of gravitas, signaling power and professionalism—qualities I was expected to embrace to become a "man". Yet, before lately, my generation appeared to wear them less and less, and they had all but disappeared from my mind.

Then came the incoming New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. He was sworn in at a private ceremony wearing a sober black overcoat, crisp white shirt, and a distinctive silk tie. Riding high by an innovative campaign, he captured the public's imagination like no other recent mayoral candidate. Yet whether he was cheering in a hip-hop club or attending a film premiere, one thing remained largely unchanged: he was frequently in a suit. Relaxed in fit, contemporary with soft shoulders, yet traditional, his is a quintessentially middle-class millennial suit—well, as common as it can be for a generation that seldom bothers to wear one.

"This garment is in this weird position," says 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, funerals, and sometimes, legal proceedings," Guy states. "It is like the traditional Japanese robe in Japan," in that it "essentially represents a tradition that has long ceded from daily life." Numerous politicians "don this attire to say: 'I am a politician, you can have faith in me. You should support me. I have legitimacy.'" Although the suit has historically signaled this, today it enacts authority in the hope of gaining public confidence. As Guy clarifies: "Since we're 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 nuanced form of performance, in that it enacts masculinity, authority and even closeness to power.

This analysis resonated deeply. On the rare occasions I require a suit—for a wedding or black-tie event—I retrieve the one I bought from a Japanese retailer a few years ago. When I first selected it, it made me feel refined and high-end, but its tailored fit now feels outdated. I imagine this feeling will be all too recognizable for many of us in the global community whose parents come from other places, especially developing countries.

Unsurprisingly, the everyday suit has fallen out of fashion. Like a pair of jeans, a suit's shape goes through trends; a specific cut can thus characterize an era—and feel quickly 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 considerable investment for something destined to fall out of fashion within five years. But the attraction, at least in certain circles, endures: in the past year, department stores report suit sales increasing more than 20% as customers "shift from the suit being everyday wear towards an appetite to invest in something special."

The Symbolism of a Accessible Suit

Mamdani's preferred suit is from a contemporary brand, a European label that retails in a moderate price bracket. "He is precisely a reflection of his background," says Guy. "In his thirties, he's neither poor nor exceptionally wealthy." Therefore, his moderately-priced suit will appeal to the group most inclined to support him: people in their 30s and 40s, university-educated 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 don't contradict his stated policies—which include a capping rents, constructing affordable homes, and free public buses.

"You could never imagine a former president wearing Suitsupply; he's a Brioni person," observes Guy. "As an immensely wealthy and grew up in that New York real-estate world. A power suit fits seamlessly with that tycoon class, just as attainable brands fit well 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 national figures and their notably impeccable, tailored sheen. As one British politician learned, the suit doesn't just dress the politician; it has the power to define them.

Performance of Banality and Protective Armor

Perhaps the key is what one scholar refers to the "enactment of banality", invoking the suit's historical role as a standard attire of political power. Mamdani's specific selection leverages a studied understatement, neither shabby nor showy—"conforming to norms" in an inconspicuous suit—to help him connect with as many voters as possible. But, experts think Mamdani would be aware of the suit's historical and imperial legacy: "The suit isn't apolitical; scholars have long noted that its modern roots lie in imperial administration." Some also view it as a form of protective armor: "I think if you're from a minority background, you might not get taken as seriously in these white spaces." The suit becomes a way of asserting legitimacy, particularly to those who might doubt it.

This kind of sartorial "code-switching" is not a recent phenomenon. Even iconic figures previously wore formal Western attire during their formative years. Currently, certain world leaders have begun exchanging their typical military wear for a black suit, albeit one lacking the tie.

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

The suit Mamdani selects is deeply significant. "Being the son of immigrants of South Asian heritage and a democratic socialist, he is under scrutiny to meet what many American voters expect as a marker of leadership," says one expert, while at the same time needing to walk a tightrope by "avoiding the appearance of 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 interpreted from it. "This could stem in part from Mamdani being a younger leader, skilled to assume different identities to fit the occasion, but it may also be part of his multicultural background, where adapting between languages, traditions and attire is typical," it is said. "White males can remain unremarked," but when others "attempt to gain the power that suits represent," they must carefully navigate the expectations associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's public persona, the tension between somewhere and nowhere, insider and outsider, is evident. I know well the discomfort of trying to conform to something not built for me, be it an inherited tradition, the culture I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's sartorial choices make clear, however, is that in politics, image is not without meaning.