Sartorial mores & political nationalisms

Most of us grew up listening to an intriguing yet prude proverb of “Dress according to the occasion”. The adage has mysteriously travelled through histories to spawn gigantic industries in the modern times. The chief artisans of these multiple histories were primarily known as sartors, and their artisanal mores pertaining to tailoring and clothing were referred to as sartorial practices. As social beings, humans have creatively experimented with a plethora of resources, to fashionably drape, wrap and protect their bodies throughout civilizations. In this poetic and laborious process, we have critically and aesthetically chosen to engage, and express ourselves via the material medium of clothing. These conscious efforts of either dressing up or dressing down, dressing appropriately or inappropriately, makes me think hard about our shared social, cultural and political norms/conventions. Especially those few, that directly influence our opinions about how we dress the way we do. The nature of which may or may not often stem out of one’s privilege of choosing to do so.

To begin with, I find it extremely engrossing to study and analyse the sartorial practices and norms followed by the political elites of India. I often wonder why the political class chooses to dress in certain ways? Why do cotton, khadi and silk feature as favourites and how did certain colours come to be personified as living metaphors of politico-religious agendas, ideologies and ethics?

For instance, the ‘India Against Corruption’ (IAC) movement, spearheaded by Anna Hazare and several other prominent politicians, activists and intellectuals, interestingly deployed the white, cotton ‘Gandhi-topi’ as a signifier of Gandhian thoughts and philosophy. The Gandhian political narrative, re-inscribed upon this piece of cloth as a uniform sartorial symbol of resistance, cutting across all social distinctions among masses, is a remarkable political move. This takes us to the next series of iconic moments, when Prime Minister Narendra Modi, a fashion icon no less, put us in a fix with ‘Modi kurtas’ and ‘Modi suit’. Representing myriad socio-political sentiments, ranging from khadi revivalism to artful self-promotion, a pin-striped suit, with his name ‘Narendra Damodardas Modi’ engraved all over it, had become a talking point. It was ‘made in India’ by the famous Jade Blue designers, who bagged tremendous recognition in the fashion industry for the strategic political branding of their sartorial products across the press and media.

Alongside such sartorial developments, runs the saree brigade v/s the non-saree brigade of women politicians. Historically, the saree and its manifold ways of draping the pallu, have distinct caste and class-based connotations.

The regal ways in which Vasundhara Raje and Pratibhatai Patil choose to be seen in their heritage sarees, and the handloom cotton clad, vermillion and bindi sporting ministers like Smriti Irani and Sushma Swaraj, when taken together, make strong politico-religious statements in parlance with their unique brands of nationalism. A counter to that style can be found in the modesty of Mayawati’s sartorial preferences.

It’s interesting to note how ideologies manifest themselves in curious ways. They are often woven into the hem of sarees, dupattas, kurtas, jackets and suits, representing hegemonic political identities in a sartorially, culturally and politically diverse nation of ours.

The author is a PhD scholar at the Centre for Political Studies, JNU