In global politics, every gesture counts, including the clothes and adornments world leaders choose. A strategically placed accessory or a well-tailored suit speak not only of power but of ideology – they are the visual cues and sometimes none-too-subtle assertions of camaraderie, unity or defiance.
The political uniform of almost all Western leaders is the suit – and the dark blue suit rules. Any deviation is dicing with danger. Its intention is clear – to project confidence, stability and modernity. So when heads of state veer off script, the reactions can be outsized. Take US President Donald Trump’s navy blue suit at Pope Francis’ funeral last month, when all around him was a sea of mourners’ black (as per Vatican protocol). The choice was immediately labelled a funeral faux pas, but the spoiler: former US President Joe Biden and Prince William also wore blue, just darker and more discrete.
In the non-Western world, leaders tend to balance tradition with modernity when it comes to sartorial statements.
And what about Barack Obama’s 2014 attempt at the tan suit. The media frenzy that accompanied the US president’s fashion detour says a lot about the metaphoric might of colour – should a president discussing the US military response to Islamic State be experimenting with the golden rules of fashion? The rogue suit even has its own Wikipedia page.
Speaking of colours, every so often the league is dominated by an individual of virtuoso-level brilliance. During her 16-year reign, the German Chancellor Angela Merkel donned no fewer than 90 different coloured blazers, earning her wardrobe the moniker “The Merkel Rainbow” and “The Full Merkel Jacket”. Nothing says stability like a wardrobe of clone outfits. Former US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s pantsuits hit peak viral around 2015 during her nomination for president, becoming shorthand for feminist power.
In the non-Western world, leaders tend to balance tradition with modernity when it comes to sartorial statements. Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi is rarely seen in anything other than his signature kurta or Nehru jacket. When he deviates from it, the world takes notice. At a meeting with Barack Obama in 2015, Modi donned a pin-striped suit with his name woven into the stripe thousands of times over. The choice split the audience. Some regarded the $16,000 suit as gauche, but it later sold at auction for more than $600,000, with the proceeds going towards cleaning up the Ganges River.
Often, it is what’s not being worn that cuts through. In the storied history of wartime leaders wearing khaki to mark solidarity with their people, Fidel Castro made a point of wearing military fatigues during the Cuban Revolution. More recently, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s preference for military attire ruffled feathers at the now infamous White House meeting at which he was chided for his choice of dress. As Zelenskyy stepped from his car at the 28 February meeting, US President Donald Trump greeted the European leader with “You’re all dressed up today”, referring to his cargo pants and black fleece marked with the Ukrainian trident. A reporter from the press pack asked, “Why don’t you wear a suit? A lot of Americans have problems with you not respecting the dignity of this office.” To which Zelenskyy replied, “I will wear a ‘costume’ after this war will finish. Yes. Maybe something like yours…Maybe something better...Maybe something cheaper.” Never mind the fact that “kostyum” in Ukrainian can mean either “suit” or “costume”. Touché.
The blow-up generated a debate on social media about the White House’s double standards given Elon Musk, the then director of DOGE, had repeatedly worn his trademark “tech support” t-shirt and baseball cap to meetings in the Oval Office. The White House press secretary provided an uncharacteristically weak response on the question in a classic gotcha moment. The exchange was even lampooned on a Saturday Night Live episode.
In a hyper-visualised geopolitical environment where a social media post can undermine a treaty, wardrobe hits and misses remind us that image and substance are indivisible.
It’s often the little things that are muttered sotto voce that can make or break an image. In a 2023 TV interview, French President Emmanuel Macron was spotted slipping his (reportedly) $86,000 watch off his wrist. Not great optics for a leader asking his nation to work a little harder and a little longer to reach pension age. At the other end of the bling spectrum, former Uruguayan leader José Mujica is said to have led a notably humble presidency, dressing simply, travelling only on commercial flights, and donating most of his salary to social projects.
In terms of cultivating a populist persona through wardrobe choices, none is more adept than Vladimir Putin. The curation of his image is longstanding, but not so patriotic. It’s reported that his suit of choice is not Russian but Italian, with the president often shelling out around $6,000 for a Loro Piana number. And at rest, he opts for shirtless horseback riding and moving around in fur-trimmed winter coats. Let’s call it image architecture.
And although US President Donald Trump plays it safer on the geopolitical catwalk, it’s often the weird and wonderful accoutrements that dazzle and discombobulate. The Guardian recently dedicated a whole article to Trump’s penchant for hulking shoulder pads, maxi-length ties and MAGA hats, not to mention his predilection for a Caribbean tan. And The Independent ran a story that claimed the US president was furious at scamps who had allegedly added an AI-generated dad bod belly to images of him on the golf course.
In a hyper-visualised geopolitical environment where a social media post can undermine a treaty, wardrobe hits and misses remind us that image and substance are indivisible. A jacket is never just a jacket.
