A boardroom with polished old wood; a mahogany conference table the size of a mini airplane runway. Razor-dressed dignitaries listen in rapt attention as the speaker with cut-glass diction addresses national issues that cause worldly-looking stress furrows in brows and ‘respectable’ streaks of grey in the neatly gelled (or pomaded), sleek hairdos of the efficient cabinet.

Now picture this. Pandemonium in the parliament where dishevelled ‘ladies and gentlemen’ screech and shriek, mouth off abuse, point fingers (in rude gesticulations), fling and destroy furniture and basically run amok, while the bewildered assembly speaker frantically begs for order over the microphone, only to be drowned out by the cacophony. Happens from time to time. We are Indians, so we are like this only.

Decorum is difficult. It requires practice and control – whether in demeanour or dress. Ours is still a developing nation, with bipolar distributions of wealth, basic amenities and education. The have-nots outnumber the haves. We have greater concerns than minding our manners and attires. Coarse and crass are very mass (they even rhyme). Dignity is something that the elite practise. ‘We, the people’ like our leaders to be sons and daughters of the soil(ed). Or do we?

That political power dressing in India is a far cry from the wardrobes of the White House and Downing Street, we are all aware. Differences between ‘Eastern’ and ‘Western’ cultures have long been drilled, hammered and embedded within us. No need to make an attempt to emulate other nations, but we can learn that ‘smart’ need not only signify the mind. Granted, it is all about function and tradition, but perhaps also consider presentation? Maybe we can run our country, and look good doing so. That fashion is frivolous is the general consensus; yet it is a complex language exploited by the very leaders who claim to condemn it.

Not everyone is a complete non-believer. There are those who are pedigreed with inherent sensibilities, others who flirt with tricky boundaries of the ‘accepted’ and the ‘disapproved’. Some adhere to sartorial safety-nets, while still others shrug off the importance of appearances in an effort to keep up, well, appearances.

Blanc check
It is part of the tricolour. Divided we are in religion, language, state boundary and opinion; united we are in our choice of a singular ‘power colour’ – white. “As a nation, our obsession with virginal purity dates back to mythology and ancient scriptures,” says fashion designer Anand Kabra. “Especially, the virtues of a woman are never represented truer by any other shade.” New kid on the design block, Paromita Banerjee, shares similar views, “White denotes peace, simplicity and serenity – however concocted those interpretations might be at present.” Hemant Sagar of creative duo Lecoanet Hemant has an interesting observation, “White is the black of India, asserting the opposite and funnily, the same values that black does in the West. These two non-colours make an occasion formal; they give situations more depth because of their impartial (neutral) status.”

The sweltering Indian weather appropriates white as the ideal shade to reflect the blistering sun, and our politicians do spend a lot of their time on outdoor campaigns. But even the purest hue has undertones. Historically, white has been more expensive than ecru cloth because of the additional cost of the bleaching process. Maintenance of sparkle has always been difficult; laborious cleaning processes or replacement of ‘faded’ pieces with new ones have been part of a well-heeled lifestyle. White has meant superiority, because ‘I can afford it’. Congregations in the capital have three shades – white, whiter, whitest.

Iron hold
Ethnic ensembles are, by shape, more fluid or softly structured. But strong lines can make an impression. Inherent impeccability has been best represented by the first family of Indian politics. Jawaharlal Nehru’s sartorial sensibility received global admiration. “His immaculately tailored sherwanis and jackets created such an impact that Mandarin and Chinese collars came to be known as Nehru collars,” cut and fit specialist Ashish N Soni observes. Sagar, too, nominates India’s first Prime Minister as a perennial style icon. Distinctive apparel items like waistcoats got prefixed as ‘Nehru jackets’ and ‘Nehru topis’.

Daughter Indira Gandhi shared his preference for creaseless crispness, with her starched, pleated saris. The tradition has been carried on by the following generations – Sanjay and Rajiv Gandhi’s spotless kurta-pyjamas, Sonia Gandhi’s emulation of her mother-in-law’s dress style and combinations with tailored jackets and luxe pashmina shawls, Rahul Gandhi’s laid-back interpretation of the waistcoat over long kurtas and Priyanka Gandhi Vadra’s minimalist salwar sets with elegant scarves. “She has a quietly strong persona; a great dignity,” says designer Arjun Saluja about Vadra. “She has deliberately stepped back from active politics, but has the assurance of a leader.” Classic may equal boring, but the pedigreed grace in each member of the family has made them collectively distinctive. Of course, it does help that they are a good looking breed.

State of affairs
Those squiggly boundaries on the national map demarcate more than political territory. Textile and costume for each state vary, and electoral candidates consider themselves not just geographical, but also sartorial representatives of their region. Northern politicians may sport chikankari kurtas, while North-Westerners can assert their origins by donning Pathan suits.Tamil Nadu imposes a state dress code of a white mundu and shirt ; Union Minister P Chidambaram is often seen carrying the veshti. Mirwaiz Umar Farooq’s rimless frames with the Kashmiri topi are very becoming. Agatha Sangma combines Naga shawls and sarongs, true to her North-Eastern roots. The drape of the dhoti reveals whether you hail from Kerala, or are a Bengali bhadralok. The turban can distinguish you as Rajasthani or Haryanvi.

Pre-independence, Sarojini Naidu wore her saris with Bengal blouses and accessorised with South Indian jewellery, so that both her geographies were equally represented. Khadi, with its Gandhian connotation, has been a uniform choice throughout the country. Over the years, Indira Gandhi, Sonia Gandhi, Sushma Swaraj and President Pratibha Patil have consciously chosen to present a more ‘national’ image by sourcing saris from different regions. For others, it is more about religion than state. Prime Minister Dr Manmohan Singh’s turban and Bal Thackeray’s saffron shawls with Sanskrit lettering clearly indicate their faiths, as does Mehbooba Mufti’s headscarf.

Economic situations
There is a fine line between ‘decency’ and ostentation, and overstepping is not appreciated. Mayawati’s gaudy gold ornaments teamed with shiny silk salwar kameezes have been mocked and criticised. Vijay Mallya’s party entry in Gucci ensembles has raised envious eyebrows. The raid of Jayalalitha’s home many years ago revealed mammoth collections of expensive silks and footwear, which had the whole nation in a frenzy of discomfort. Flashy flaunting is frowned upon.

The other side of the coin shows down-to-earth dressing taken to the extent of shabbiness. Mamata Banerjee’s ‘impoverished grunge’ through her crumpled (and occasionally torn) grey-white saris is legendary. “Sporting a ‘widow’ look and giving out a humble impression through rubber hawai chappals is fine, but a bit of tidiness never hurt anyone,” comments Debarghya Bairagi of Dev R Nil. “She is someone who needs to change her wardrobe… not look so drab,” agrees Banerjee. Laloo Prasad Yadav’s lungi, gamchha and ear hair deliberately pronounce ‘simple village farmer’ multiple times over. “Grooming!” laments Kabra. “Cleanliness and personal hygiene! What happened to those? They are so important.”

That the ‘humble’ government salary also comes with major perks, is common knowledge. A pseudo Gandhian austerity does not suit the present day. Ostentation too, is tacky, but probably more honest. Reality is that a pair of Gucci loafers (like those famously worn by Rajiv Gandhi with kurta-pyjamas) or branded sunglasses or a semi-precious writing instrument or even subtle jewellery make classy additions to the attires of those who can very well afford them. No need for charades. Would we rather have Bengaluru baron Mallya sporting homeless chic? Not digestible.

Global-isation
Mahatma Gandhi’s Swadeshi is permanently injected in the national bloodstream. ‘Be Indian, wear Indian’ will always hold value, but the definition of Indian-ness has evolved over time. Now, it cannot be interpreted as something purely external. Therefore, being staunch traditionalists just for the sake of it is unrequired. “Traditions here assert their historic origins much more than their actual status today,” observes Sagar. “We are still suffering from the shock of independence and the sudden push towards globalisation, both demanding strong standpoints.”

In politics, this is tricky; cautious steps are necessary, so as not to be completely unrelatable to our rural masses. “Elements of regional craft can go hand in hand with contemporary dressing,” Saluja says. “Why be so serious all the time? Like every other profession, one can inject a measured sense of fun.” Rahul Gandhi’s speech at a youth congregation, where he was clad in a shirt and jeans, received more encouragement than flak. “Why not?” says Soni. “He’s addressing the youth, he’s part of the youth, he’s dressed like them. So he’s relatable.”

Manmohan Singh and former President APJ Abdul Kalam’s bandhgala suits combine sharp tailoring with Indian detailing. “Omar Abdullah comfortably and elegantly switches between bandhgala kurtas and tailored Western suits,” Soni observes. Milind Deora and Jyotiraditya Scindhia are also comparatively experimental.

Jaya Prada and Priya Dutt have been among the extremely few women who have worn trousers to the parliament. “Priyanka Gandhi Vadra in a crisp white shirt and black trousers was a more recent power moment,” recalls Rimzim Dadu. For Kabra, a major breakthrough for the ladies was the re-invention of the kurti. “It is comfortable, dignified, very modern Indian and suits most body types,” he lists. “It never looks inappropriate and should not face an acceptability problem.” Sushma Swaraj’s sari-waistcoat teamings (not really a great example) and Agatha Sangma’s shirts worn with traditional sarongs have been attempts at breaking an unwritten dress dictate. Others, like Rajmata Gayatri Devi, Vasundhara Raje and Hema Malini have been spotted in chiffon saris and pearls (very French), a step outside the traditional textile circle.

Mother land
The matriarch demands respect. Empowerment through the wife and mother tag works well in the country of Durga, Kali and Lakshmi. Indira Gandhi was the revered daughter turned mother of the great dynasty. Sonia Gandhi has been the nation’s imported bahu and tragic widow, protecting her children from evil eyes and guiding them by example. The Indian woman’s symbols of matrimony – vermilion, large bindi and mangalsutra, are prominently worn with pride by Sushma Swaraj, Vasundhara Raje and Rabri Devi. To ordinary women in the shadows of their menfolk, these symbols denote female power – details which connect them all. And to men, well, ‘mum’s the word’.

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