Who's afraid of Eva Peron?

In Andrew Lloyd Webber’s evergreen musical Evita, still touring the world since 1978, on the life of the glamorous and controversial Eva Peron, wife of the Argentine dictator, there is a hilarious lyric. It neatly sums up the power and pretension of political fashions. Leaving for a tour of Europe she warbles:

I came from the people

They need to adore me

So Christian Dior me

From my head to my toes

I need to be dazzling…

They must have excitement…

And so must I…

As style statements and populist messaging, Indian leaders have long understood the importance of dressing up. Nehru’s trademarks were well-tailored sherwanis and bandgalas with the ubiquitous rosebud. Indira Gandhi’s saris were a fine selection of silk and cotton handlooms, their weaves often chosen to match the regions she visited. And the fastidious Narendra Modi is never less than well-groomed in his range of half-sleeved kurtas, satrangi safas, and colour-coordinated jackets.

But every now and then lapses occur — what fashion folk call a “wardrobe malfunction” — and controversy erupts. The worst example was Mr Modi’s “coat of shame” — with his name woven in pinstripes during Barack Obama’s visit — that forever tainted his government as “suit boot ki sarkar”. 

Now his party has found sweet revenge in Rahul Gandhi sporting a $995 Burberry jacket in Shillong, but the Congress president swears it was a gift. Whatever attribute Mr Gandhi may or may not possess, he cannot, with his crumpled kurtas and unshaven bristles, be accused of vanity. His grandmother found it harder to escape censure when, years ago, she appeared in a mink coat, apparently gifted to her by Soviet commissars. Or his father, whose body was identified after his assassination by his Lotto trainers.

There is an element of inescapable hypocrisy here. Why should Indian politicians wear their badge of nationalism, honesty, and grassroots links in regulation khadi when ever-growing swathes of the Indian middle class are out shopping for foreign brands? When will we outgrow long-discarded socialist shibboleths of home-grown and handspun when all the influx is unstoppable? Knockdown prices at Zara, Marks & Spencer, and H&M make for better business sense and social cachet today than sales at khadi bhandar or Handloom House once commanded.

It isn’t just the mass retail brands that are expanding apace. As fashion writer Shefalee Vasudev points out, premium and luxury labels, from Louis Vuitton to Cartier, Fendi to Ferragamo, are carrying on nicely. “The Hermes sari may have flopped but the big-ticket brands are here for the long haul. The segment may be narrow but they have a niche market among the new rich.” With due deference to Eva Peron, Dior, she adds, finds more custom for its watches in India than its apparel. It isn’t exactly an uncommon sight to see scions of Indian political dynasties after hours sporting Armani suits and Gucci loafers. Rahul Gandhi’s Burberry jacket is small change by comparison.

Government restrictions are gradually crumbling before burgeoning foreign investment in single-brand retail — the most-quoted example is the opening of Swedish furnishing giant IKEA’s Rs 10-billion store in Hyderabad in April. In the next 10 years it plans 25 stores. If Indian homeowners want better utility and value for IKEA’s flat-packed bookcases and mail order furniture, they’ll get it. Indigenous chains like Fabindia or Urban Ladder will have to compete harder for market share and changing tastes.

There is not only strong symbolism attached to the way leaders dress and keep their homes — Indira Gandhi’s residence-turned-memorial, a big draw in the capital, for example — but also to promote tradition and trade. If sections of Buckingham Palace and the White House are open to the public, why should Rashtrapati Bhawan be the hallowed precinct of a select few? 

Foreign personages, especially women, from Princess Diana to Michelle Obama to Brigitte Macron, are routinely dressed by their countries’ best designers not merely as a matter of personal taste but as well-publicised endorsements of designer skills and the fashion business. Clothes can be a useful statement of diplomacy and goodwill. Melania Trump made a point of wearing Dolce & Gabbana in Italy; and the Duchess of Cambridge delighted Indians when she played cricket in an Anita Dongre frock on her India tour.

Rather than be secretive and apologetic about what they wear — and where — Indian leaders should drop the double standard. Mr Modi should admit to enjoy being kitted out by Jade Blue in Ahmedabad. Mr Gandhi should stop looking scruffy and wear Burberry only in Britain. They could take their cue from Eva Peron. For all her misdeeds, she remains a cult figure in her country, not least with a little help from Dior.