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Coming of age in the British capital during the noughties, I was always surrounded by suits. They adorned businessmen rushing through the financial district. You could spot them on fathers in the city's great park, kicking footballs in the golden light. At school, a cheap grey suit was our mandatory uniform. Historically, the suit has served as a uniform of gravitas, projecting power and performance—qualities I was told to embrace to become a "man". Yet, until lately, my generation appeared to wear them less and less, and they had all but disappeared from my mind.

Subsequently came the newly elected New York City mayor, Zohran Mamdani. Taking his oath of office at a closed ceremony dressed in a sober black overcoat, pristine white shirt, and a notable silk tie. Propelled by an innovative campaign, he captivated the public's imagination like no other recent contender for city hall. But whether he was cheering in a music venue or appearing at a film premiere, one thing remained largely unchanged: he was almost always in a suit. Relaxed in fit, modern with soft shoulders, yet traditional, his is a typically middle-class millennial suit—that is, as typical as it can be for a generation that rarely bothers to wear one.

"The suit 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."

"It's basically only worn in the most formal settings: weddings, memorials, and sometimes, legal proceedings," Guy states. "It is 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 have faith in me. You should vote for me. I have legitimacy.'" Although the suit has historically signaled this, today it enacts authority in the attempt of gaining public trust. As Guy clarifies: "Because we are also living in a democratic society, 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 manliness, authority and even closeness to power.

Guy's words stayed with me. On the rare occasions I need a suit—for a ceremony 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 sophisticated and expensive, but its tailored fit now feels passé. I suspect this sensation will be only too recognizable for numerous people in the global community whose families come from other places, particularly global south countries.

It's no surprise, the everyday suit has fallen out of fashion. Like a pair of jeans, a suit's shape goes through trends; a particular cut can therefore characterize an era—and feel rapidly outdated. Consider the present: looser-fitting suits, echoing Richard Gere's Armani in *American Gigolo*, might be in vogue, but given the cost, it can feel like a considerable investment for something likely to be out of fashion within five years. Yet the appeal, at least in some quarters, endures: recently, department stores report tailoring sales rising more than 20% as customers "shift from the suit being everyday wear towards an appetite to invest in something special."

The Politics of a Mid-Market Suit

The mayor's go-to suit is from Suitsupply, a Dutch label that retails in a mid-market price bracket. "He is precisely a reflection of his upbringing," says Guy. "A relatively young person, he's not poor but not exceptionally wealthy." Therefore, his mid-level suit will resonate with 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 stated policies—such as a capping rents, building affordable homes, and fare-free public buses.

"You could never imagine Donald Trump wearing this brand; he's a luxury Italian suit person," observes Guy. "As an immensely wealthy and was raised in that property development world. A power suit fits naturally with that elite, 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 "controversial" beige attire to other national figures and their notably impeccable, tailored appearance. Like a certain British politician learned, the suit doesn't just clothe the politician; it has the potential to characterize them.

The Act of Banality and A Shield

Maybe the key is what one scholar 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, not too casual nor too flashy—"respectability politics" in an unobtrusive suit—to help him appeal to as many voters as possible. However, some think Mamdani would be cognizant of the suit's military and colonial legacy: "This attire isn't apolitical; scholars have long pointed out that its modern roots lie in military or colonial administration." It is also seen 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 white spaces." The suit becomes a way of signaling legitimacy, perhaps especially to those who might doubt it.

This kind of sartorial "changing styles" is hardly a new phenomenon. Even historical leaders once donned three-piece suits during their early years. These days, certain world leaders have begun swapping their typical fatigues for a black suit, albeit one lacking the tie.

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

The attire Mamdani selects is highly symbolic. "As a Muslim child of immigrants of South Asian heritage and a democratic socialist, he is under pressure to meet what many American voters look for as a marker of leadership," says one expert, while at the same time needing to navigate carefully by "avoiding the appearance of an elitist selling out his non-mainstream roots and values."

Yet there is an acute awareness of the double standards applied to suit-wearers and what is interpreted from it. "That may come in part from Mamdani being a younger leader, able to adopt different identities to fit the situation, but it may also be part of his diverse background, where adapting between cultures, customs and clothing styles is typical," it is said. "Some individuals can go unremarked," but when others "attempt to gain the authority that suits represent," they must carefully negotiate the codes associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's official image, the dynamic between somewhere and nowhere, insider and outsider, is evident. I know well the awkwardness of trying to fit into something not designed with me in mind, be it an inherited tradition, 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 not without meaning.