Still, it was a snazzier version of Zuma's
sartorial standby that turned heads — in the opposite direction. The
recently-elected president appeared at his victory party last May in a leather
jacket embellished with yellow and green racing stripes, in homage to the
country's national colors.
Hoping to capitalize on Zuma's Man of the People
persona and promote party identity, the ruling African National Congress (ANC)
has launched a line of 19 brightly colored leather jackets which include a
replica of Zuma's, fittingly named the "President No 1."
Though Zuma's
politics may have inspired South Africans to vote for him, they might be less
inclined to dress like him. In a poll by South Africa's Independant online, 86%
of respondents said they wouldn't don the fluorescent threads.
Safari Wear in the Hermit
Kingdom
For a man who enjoys the finer things — he
reportedly takes pleasure in Hollywood DVDs and expensive liquor, even as
millions of North Koreans suffer in extreme hardship — you'd think Kim Jong Il
would be a snappier dresser. Kim can mostly be found wearing unflattering khaki
safari suits and Kanye West–sized sunglasses, accessorized with five-inch
platform shoes to boost the diminutive Dear Leader's height and a high-and-tight
pompadour that apparently serves the same purpose. Whereas his ill-fitting suits
once did little to conceal Kim's paunch, in recent photographs he has seen
wearing clothing several sizes smaller than usual — a result, analysts say, of
his recent illness.
For 17 years, after leading a bloody 1973
military coup that toppled the Chilean government and executed then President
Salvador Allende, dictator Augusto Pinochet ruled his country with brutal force:
thousands of leftist opponents went missing under his regime. In keeping with
his previous career as an army general, Pinochet habitually wore an exceedingly
sinister-looking army uniform and polished jackboots. But he was also known for
donning capes from time to time, which, frankly, was overdoing it: considering
his already terrifying reputation, the cape lent the aging despot the appearance
of a dapper Dracula.
Libyan leader Colonel Muammar Gaddafi has
raised many an eyebrow over his four-decade rule: keeping cheetahs as pets,
staying in nomad tents during trips abroad citing fear of buildings and
surrounding himself with a posse of beautiful, gun-toting female bodyguards are
just a few of his eccentric habits. However, nothing has shaped his colorful
reputation more than his flamboyant fashion sense. Gaddafi is frequently seen
swathed in bright, rainbow-colored silk drapes, Bedouin robes, dashikis and
animal skins that he dons as a nod to his African heritage, but which might be
better suited for the cast of the Lion King. During a diplomatic trip to
Italy last June, he prominently pinned to his chest a picture of a Libyan
resistance fighter who was hanged by Italian colonialists in 1931. "For us, that
image is like the cross some of you wear," he explained during an Italian news
conference, referencing Jesus Christ's crucifixion.
Don't call it a sweater. It's actually a
chompa: a traditional, hand-knit pullover of alpaca wool considered
refined among the indigenous people of Bolivia — such as the country's
President, Evo Morales. The leftist leader is clearly not the business-suit
type, says one analyst: "I don't see him wearing Armani suits, something very
common among Latin American Presidents. That would be criticized much more."
Photographs of Morales wearing the frock everywhere from Spain to
China to South Africa, over an open-necked shirt or dressed up with a black,
shiny leather jacket, have made the pullover a must-have item back home. In
2006, a Bolivian businessman started a line of wool sweaters called Evo Fashion,
designed to look just like the President's.
Given Iran's strict religious culture and
the series of grim-faced, dourly dressed clerics that have been the face of the
Islamic Republic since the 1979 revolution, one might expect more of the same
from newly re-elected President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. But Ahmadinejad's relaxed
approach to fashion has garnered almost as much attention as his hard-line
politics. Like most Iranians, the President does not wear a necktie — a rule
that was set in place by Ayatullah Khomeini, who banned them for being decadent
and un-Islamic and for contributing to the spread of Western culture. Instead,
he opts for simple cotton shirts topped with his trademark, a $30 Chinese-made
khaki windbreaker purchased from a Tehran bazaar. The windbreaker, commonly
dubbed the Ahmadinejacket, is widely derided for its similarity to the Members
only jackets that were briefly popular in the West in the 1980s; still, it has
become popular among supporters hoping to emulate the President's look.
Fidel Castro is an Adidas man. Apparently
the yanqui-baiting octogenarian, formerly a die-hard fan of military fatigues,
now favors the kind of ready-to-wear warm-up gear that only a German-based
sports company can provide. While recuperating from surgery in 2006, Castro
shunned the standard hospital gown and instead opted to showcase his good health
by donning a red, white and blue tracksuit emblazoned with the familiar logo.
"We don't really look at it as anything," Travis Gonzolez, head of Adidas p.r.,
told the New York Times when asked about
the apparent endorsement. "It's not a positive, not a negative. We are a sports
brand. We are making products for athletes, we are not making them for leaders."
Which explains why Adidas agreed in 2004 and 2008 to outfit Cuba's Olympic team.
Revolutions come in every color: green
armbands in Tehran, orange-clad protesters in Ukraine and a bright red President
in Venezuela attempting to convey his political message by dressing like a human
crayon. A signifier of class struggle since the late 1800s, the color red was
once ubiquitous in communist strongholds such as the Soviet Union and China.
Venezuela's leftist President Hugo Chávez has kept the message alive by using it
as a staple in all of his political demonstrations, as well as his personal
wardrobe. Whether it is a red tie peeking out of his formal suits during
official state visits, a red beret topping the olive fatigues he often wears as
a tribute to his military background, or the head-to-toe combos he sports during
his weekly TV show, the color is always there as a reminder that Chávez and
Venezuela are firmly entrenched in socialism — as if we could forget.
He founded a country, promulgated an
ideology and fostered a zealous personality cult whose members terrorized all of
China, so it's only to be expected that Mao Zedong would start a fashion trend
too. During his 30-year reign as China's Chairman and national hero, Mao
regularly appeared in a proletarian four-pocket jacket first introduced by
Chinese revolutionary Sun Yat-sen as a counterpoint to the Western business
suit. By the time of the tumultuous Cultural Revolution, variations on the
androgynous green, gray or blue Mao suit were everywhere: it was the uniform of
choice for Mao's young followers as they rooted out his supposed capitalist
enemies. But after Mao's death in 1976, the look began to fall out of fashion.
Almost without exception, today's Chinese leaders wear Western business suits.
The style is still popular among older, rural Chinese, however, and it has
reappeared in boutiques in Hong Kong and Shanghai — a popularity fueled mostly
by a sense of postmodern irony among young urbanites.