Well-Worn Cliches

And he's not alone. The lot of our netas may not all be so radical but never before have we seen them be so savvy about fashion, especially as a means of forging political identities. Traditionally, our public figures have tended to stick to the homespun, "servant-of-the-people" image. Gandhiji's loincloth and Nehru's achkans and rose-in-the-buttonhole were the only standout images from our early post-independent years. In fact, for many years after Nehru, the fashion evolution in Indian politics had no major landmarks other than those posted by his own family members: Indira Gandhi in handloom saris sourced from all corners of India, with the streak of white in her hair adding a touch of 'Mother India' gravitas; Sanjay Gandhi, who made the white kurta-pyjama a kind of uniform for young turks; and later, Rajiv, who effortlessly mixed it up with posh Gucci loafers.

Cut back to now and we are perhaps witnessing the most most style-conscious Parliament in the nation's history. On the one hand, take the dapper civil aviation minister Praful Patel, who's even cut a dashing, cosmopolitan figure as the cover boy for Society magazine. He may not have confirmed his rumoured penchant for Armani suits, but he has confessed to a weakness for Frank Muller watches. If his mates are to be believed, it's a look befitting the corporate, globalised image he'd like to give our burgeoning aviation sector.

Now, on the other end of the spectrum (if you would call it that) would be a Sushma Swaraj with her sindoor, big bindi and wide-bordered saris. The obvious comparison would be the TV serial saas-bahu but we like to think of it as the homely-yet-capable (and a tad manipulative) ideal Bharatiya nari. Of course, our women MPs also come in various other avatars, like the am-I-still-in-the-frame look of the actress-cum-MP or the dated, old world "royal" style, like Sangeeta Singh Deo in her chiffons and pearls.

In all this turbulence, there are also some intent on sending a message of reassurance and stability. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, in his unvaryingly blue turban, is a sure-shot for this list. Says Laila Tyabji, chairperson of the national rural artisans workshop, Dastkar, "It's such a relief to see him. He never plays to the gallery, never draws attention to himself." Now if calling attention is the name of the game, we have some heavy-hitters there too. Like liquor baron-turned-RS member Vijay Mallya with his bling-laden black Gucci kurta-pyjama ensembles, said to be the envy of many a pucca parliamentarian of today.

In an age of 24/7 news channels, politics is the newest showbiz sideshow. Indian politicians are finally waking up to the power of the image, a visual lingo if you would, sending out signals about themselves. As Mumbai fashion designer Sandeep Khosla says, "No politician dresses carelessly now...there's a lot of thought going into what they wear."

The changing sartorial styles also reflect the changing times—a growing consumer culture and a country rapidly becoming more urbanised. In such a climate, the Gandhi topi is fast becoming obsolete, to be replaced by other accessories—Rolex watches, Mont Blanc pens et al. Even khadi, once a symbol of austerity, has transformed itself, and is now expertly shaped into high-fashion garments by designers. A superfine Uppada khadi sari, of the type favoured by Sonia Gandhi, can cost upwards of Rs 3,000. Observes Tyabji, "Politicians no longer think it wrong to show off their wealth, be it newly acquired riches." They're more candid about their indulgences as well, flitting easily from Page 1 stories to Page 3 parties, dressed appropriately for both settings.

But even now, for many politicians, their clothes must also express what their party stands for. Soniaji's demure waist-length blouses and traditional handloom saris not only underline her bahu-of-the-soil image, but also the Congress's pan-Indian ethos—she even takes care to wear saris woven in different parts of India, be it Sambalpuris from Orissa, tribal weaves from Chhattisgarh or ikats from Andhra. On appropriate formal occasions, the dynastic character is played up, with the party president in sumptuous silks, classy pearls and expert make-up.

Contrast this with the bahujan samaj's Mayawati. The elite may roll their eyes and turn up their noses at the "rani pink" salwar-kameezes and glittering diamonds, but to her votebank the look screams aspiration and power, of a kind they can all now dream of. Fashion designer David Abraham says "it's a very identifiable, premeditated, deliberate look". Similarly, the rustic look cultivated by Laloo Yadav reaches out effortlessly to the aam aadmi, even as he disarms the plus.

So does this line of thought translate to the Next Gen neta too? Young Congress MP Milind Deora is not so sure. "The image, the clothes have an impact only when it's tied with what you stand for, you have to dress the talk," he says. For instance, he says he wouldn't wear a kurta pyjama to his South Mumbai constituency. "It's not me," he says, "what I wear is not about politics alone, it's also my tastes and preferences." His favourite attire is shirt and trousers, stitched by the same tailor for the last 10 years. So what do we make of East Delhi MP Sandeep Dikshit and his diamond studs then? Edgy urban professional is the verdict from our designers.

Outlook talked to some style gurus and they find even the ideology and fortunes of political parties reflected in the way members dress. The Congress comes across as "understated" in contrast to the bjp which has a more "flamboyant, experimental style". The dmk dresses traditional, while many bsp members, perhaps inspired by Ambedkar, stick to trousers. Abraham says "the bjp has a strong visual identity and iconography. It shows how the party has quickly built its national identity on flimsy planks and politics". On the other hand, he finds a visual disconnect in the Congress. "It's losing its touch. Their lackadaisical performance is reflected in their lack of visual coherence," he says.

The sartorial crisis has come to such a pass that even former citadels of the stern are cracking. We are of course talking about our men in khaki knickers, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. For the first time since its inception in 1925, the strict dress code for the early morning shakha has been relaxed—Bermuda shorts are now allowed, even encouraged! Apparently, it's all due to the growing clout of the rss' new-age techie volunteers, and the "cool look" they favour.

With all this, the Indian media too is waking up to "reading" the neta's dress code. Still, we're probably aeons away from a piece like the recent one in the Washington Post where writer Robin Givhan discusses the sartorial symbolism and "sexual frisson" of Condoleezza Rice's Matrix-inspired Dominatrix outfit on a Germany visit. Indeed, as elections near, our poll pundits might even get a more accurate stitch if they paid a little more attention to what our netas wear than what they say.