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Coming of age in the British capital during the 2000s, I was always immersed in a world of suits. You saw them on City financiers rushing through the Square Mile. They were worn by dads in the city's great park, playing with footballs in the golden light. At school, a cheap grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Historically, the suit has functioned as a uniform of seriousness, signaling power and professionalism—traits I was told to embrace to become a "adult". Yet, before lately, my generation seemed to wear them infrequently, and they had largely vanished 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, crisp white shirt, and a distinctive silk tie. Riding high by an ingenious campaign, he captivated the public's imagination unlike any recent mayoral candidate. But whether he was cheering in a hip-hop club or attending a film premiere, one thing remained mostly unchanged: he was almost always in a suit. Relaxed in fit, contemporary with unstructured lines, yet traditional, his is a quintessentially professional millennial suit—that is, as common as it can be for a cohort that seldom chooses to wear one.

"The suit is in this strange 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 significant drop arriving in the 1990s alongside "the advent of business casual."

"Today it is only worn in the most formal locations: weddings, memorials, to some extent, court appearances," Guy states. "It is like the kimono 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 authority.'" But while the suit has historically conveyed this, today it performs authority in the attempt of gaining public trust. 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." To a large extent, a suit is just a subtle form of drag, in that it performs masculinity, authority and even closeness to power.

This analysis stayed with me. 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 a few years ago. When I first picked it up, it made me feel refined and high-end, but its slim cut now feels passé. I suspect this sensation will be only too familiar for numerous people in the global community whose families come from other places, especially global south countries.

Unsurprisingly, the working man's suit has fallen out of fashion. Similar to a pair of jeans, a suit's silhouette goes through cycles; a specific cut can thus define an era—and feel quickly outdated. Take now: looser-fitting suits, reminiscent of Richard Gere's Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be trendy, but given the cost, it can feel like a significant investment for something likely to be out of fashion within five years. But the appeal, at least in some quarters, persists: in the past year, department stores report suit sales rising more than 20% as customers "shift from the suit being daily attire towards an desire to invest in something special."

The Politics of a Mid-Market Suit

Mamdani's preferred suit is from Suitsupply, a Dutch label that sells in a mid-market price bracket. "Mamdani is very much a reflection of his background," says Guy. "In his thirties, he's neither poor nor extremely wealthy." To that end, his mid-level suit will appeal to the demographic 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 exactly 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 rent freeze, constructing affordable homes, and fare-free public buses.

"It's impossible to 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 power suit fits naturally with that elite, just as attainable brands fit well with Mamdani's cohort."

The legacy of suits in politics is extensive and rich: from a well-known leader's "controversial" tan suit to other national figures and their suspiciously impeccable, custom-fit sheen. As one British politician discovered, the suit doesn't just dress the politician; it has the potential to characterize them.

The Act of Normality and A Shield

Maybe the point is what one academic calls the "performance of banality", summoning the suit's long career as a uniform of political power. Mamdani's particular choice taps into a deliberate modesty, not too casual nor too flashy—"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 neutral; historians have long noted that its contemporary origins lie in military or colonial 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 white spaces." The suit becomes a way of asserting legitimacy, particularly to those who might doubt it.

Such sartorial "changing styles" is hardly a recent phenomenon. Even historical leaders once wore formal Western attire during their early years. These days, certain world leaders have begun exchanging their usual military wear for a black suit, albeit one without the tie.

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

The attire Mamdani chooses is deeply significant. "Being the son of immigrants of Indian descent and a progressive politician, he is under pressure to conform to what many American voters expect as a sign of leadership," says one expert, while at the same time needing to navigate carefully by "not looking like an elitist betraying his distinctive roots and values."

Yet there is an sharp awareness of the different rules applied to who wears suits and what is read into it. "This could stem in part from Mamdani being a younger leader, able to assume different identities to fit the situation, but it may also be part of his diverse background, where code-switching between cultures, customs and attire is common," it is said. "Some individuals can go unremarked," but when women and ethnic minorities "attempt to gain the power that suits represent," they must meticulously 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 fit into something not designed with me in mind, be it an inherited tradition, the society I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's sartorial choices make evident, however, is that in public life, appearance is never neutral.