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Coming of age in the British capital during the 2000s, I was always surrounded by suits. You saw them on businessmen rushing through the Square Mile. They were worn by fathers in the city's great park, kicking footballs in the evening light. At school, a inexpensive grey suit was our required uniform. Traditionally, the suit has functioned as a uniform of seriousness, projecting power and performance—qualities I was told to aspire to to become a "man". Yet, before recently, my generation seemed 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 private ceremony wearing a subdued black overcoat, crisp white shirt, and a notable silk tie. Propelled by an ingenious campaign, he captured the public's imagination unlike any recent mayoral candidate. Yet whether he was celebrating in a hip-hop club or attending a film premiere, one thing remained largely constant: he was almost always in a suit. Relaxed in fit, modern with unstructured lines, yet conventional, his is a typically middle-class millennial suit—well, as common as it can be for a cohort that rarely chooses 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 arriving in the 1990s alongside "the rise of business casual."

"It's basically only worn in the strictest locations: marriages, memorials, to some extent, court appearances," Guy states. "It's sort of like the kimono in Japan," in that it "fundamentally represents a tradition that has long retreated from everyday use." Many politicians "wear a suit to say: 'I represent a politician, you can have faith in me. You should support me. I have legitimacy.'" Although the suit has historically conveyed this, today it enacts authority in the hope of winning public trust. As Guy elaborates: "Since we're also living in a liberal democracy, politicians want to seem approachable, because they're trying to get your votes." To a large extent, a suit is just a subtle form of performance, in that it performs manliness, authority and even proximity to power.

This analysis stayed with me. On the infrequent times I need 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 selected it, it made me feel sophisticated and high-end, but its tailored fit now feels passé. I imagine this sensation will be only too familiar for many of us in the diaspora whose parents originate in somewhere else, especially developing countries.

Unsurprisingly, the working man's 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 quickly outdated. Consider the present: more relaxed suits, echoing a famous cinematic 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. Yet the appeal, at least in some quarters, persists: in the past year, department stores report tailoring sales increasing more than 20% as customers "move away from the suit being daily attire towards an desire to invest in something special."

The Symbolism of a Mid-Market Suit

Mamdani's preferred suit is from a contemporary brand, a European label that retails in a mid-market price bracket. "He is precisely a reflection of his background," says Guy. "In his thirties, he's neither poor nor extremely wealthy." Therefore, his mid-level suit will appeal to the demographic most inclined to support him: people in their 30s and 40s, college graduates earning middle-class incomes, often frustrated by the expense of housing. It's exactly the kind of suit they might wear themselves. Not cheap but not lavish, Mamdani's suits arguably align with his proposed policies—which include a rent freeze, building affordable homes, and 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 was raised in that property development world. A status symbol fits naturally with that tycoon class, just as more accessible brands fit well with Mamdani's cohort."

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

Performance of Banality and A Shield

Maybe the key is what one scholar calls the "performance of ordinariness", invoking the suit's historical role as a standard attire of political power. Mamdani's specific selection leverages a deliberate understatement, neither shabby nor showy—"conforming to norms" in an inconspicuous suit—to help him appeal to as many voters as possible. But, experts think Mamdani would be cognizant of the suit's military and colonial legacy: "This attire isn't apolitical; scholars have long noted that its modern roots lie in military or colonial administration." Some also view it as a form of protective armor: "It is argued that if you're from a minority background, you aren't going to get taken as seriously in these traditional institutions." The suit becomes a way of signaling credibility, particularly to those who might question it.

This kind of sartorial "changing styles" is not 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 black suit, albeit one without the tie.

"In every seam and stitch of Mamdani's public persona, the struggle between belonging and otherness is visible."

The attire Mamdani chooses is highly significant. "As a Muslim child of immigrants of South Asian heritage and a democratic socialist, he is under scrutiny to meet what many American voters expect as a sign of leadership," notes one expert, while simultaneously needing to navigate carefully by "not looking like an elitist betraying his non-mainstream roots and values."

But there is an sharp awareness of the different rules applied to who wears suits and what is interpreted from it. "This could stem 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 multicultural background, where adapting between cultures, traditions and clothing styles is typical," it is said. "White males can go unnoticed," but when others "attempt to gain the authority that suits represent," they must meticulously navigate the codes associated with them.

In every seam of Mamdani's public persona, the tension between belonging and displacement, inclusion and exclusion, is visible. I know well the awkwardness of trying to fit into something not built for me, be it an cultural expectation, the society I was born into, or even a suit. What Mamdani's style decisions make clear, however, is that in politics, image is never without meaning.