In this day and age, campaign optics are as critical as any professed policy. Just look at Nigel Farage’s confrontational Union Jack socks. For their July 4 reckoning, Sir Keir Starmer and Rishi Sunak have both leant into a strong and stable polish.
They are impeccably clean shaven at all times, hair as solid and compact as a Lego figurine, attempting to signal that there is no chaos here, not a follicle is out of place, you can trust us (compare and contrast with the chaos of Boris Johnson’s comically unwieldy blonde thatch and Jeremy Corbyn’s scruffy beard).
In terms of their wardrobe what can be divined? Multi-millionaire Sunak favours his much-tittered scant-of-leg Savile Row suits by Henry Herbert (about £3,500), while Sir Keir is more man of the high street in his reportedly Charles Tyrwhitt numbers (from £350). The Labour leader has levelled up his opticals — stylistically at least, his new Garrett Leight Hampton 1001s are £300 cheaper than his previous bland, outdated square metal yet £500 frames — in come the more Hackney-esque rounded rims which add a certain confidence.
Sunak recently toted a £750 Tumi rucksack on the train to one of the country’s most deprived areas. But, he’s exceptionally rich. It may have appeared tone deaf, but at least it’s authentic. It would have been more crass to have brought along his briefing papers in a specially purchased Primark shopper. You shouldn’t need to cosplay as your constituents to understand them.
I don’t have an issue with politicians spending money on their clothes. Why would you? They are both wealthy men in the public eye representing our country, they should be well dressed.
Reactionary headlines over £500 jackets abound, still. But so what? I’d rather Sir Keir wore British rather than the natty Sandro number some got their knickers in a twist over, but it sums up a tedious collective attitude to clothing that it’s somehow frivolous and stupid to invest in it. It’s no wonder our home-grown fashion industry is floundering. Who wants to be led by someone in a cheap suit churned out of a factory paying its workers a pittance? Fashion is a helpful way of deciphering personality. Arguably, in their identikit suiting there is little to tell them apart.
The only insight we’re getting is through their everyman attempts at casuals. Sunak once again leaning into his grey Everlane hoodie (£123), as well as stretchy beige chinos which look like the sort of thing they sell on three for two deals in the back of Sunday supplements, and age him at least 20 years.
Vogue-star Sir Keir has more bite here. The £50 England hoodie was awful, obviously, the jeans trad-Dad-bad. But I can get on board with his mod-ish Stone Island polo shirts and worn-in Adidas (versus Sunak’s painfully box-fresh Sambas), there is, at least, a glimmer of the individual in there. Campaigning of course brings out the awkward reality that politicians need to look like normal people.
They’re not, clearly. But I know who I’d rather walk into the pub with.
