Opinion The dour and Dior

Moitra is hardly the first politician to face (sketchy) allegations of corruption. However, it’s interesting to note that lately, luxury accessories, usually associated with nouveau riche socialites in Delhi and Mumbai, have become de rigueur in political circles. Old school politicians were more likely to be hauled up for acquiring benefits in land or coal; they saw no value in slinging faux leather embossed with glaring L and V initials. Clearly, something’s changed; like everywhere among people of discernment, a penchant for the finer things of life has permeated the hallowed halls of the Lok Sabha. Last year, the Centre’s favourite punching bag, Rahul Gandhi, had to bear the wrath of social media when he wore a Burberry T-shirt on the Bharat Jodo Yatra (price tag, Rs 41,000). In the past, RG himself has taken potshots at the PM’s wardrobe by calling the government the “suit-boot ki sarkar”. Fashion-shaming the Opposition doesn’t sound like it could be a deadly weapon, except, optics matter in public life.

When paid trolls gleefully put out images of Moitra in cool pairs of sunglasses, the narrative on X becomes that this is somebody frivolous (hence, unfit for fixing the problems of our great nation). What anyone’s sartorial choices have to do with their ability to perform at their job is inexplicable until one considers the larger context. Despite having millions of HNIs, India is considered the toughest luxury market in Asia. This is because Indians, even the ones who’ve done well remain value conscious, always keen for a deal. For crores of others, it’s unconscionable that a handbag may cost tens of lakhs. Indeed, it’s hard to shake off a long history of wretched scarcity. So, the political lot, viewed with contemptuous suspicion by the middle class in any case, don’t do themselves any favours by flaunting expensive brands; the automatic assumption is that the source of wealth is dodgy and unfair means are involved.

These arbitrary judgments disregard that whether we know it or not, we’re all influenced by symbolic markers of style — for example, when we see a Deepika Padukone endorse Cartier, that conveys a rarefied exclusivity. Virtual culture provides a steady stream of fashionable people whose purchases are proudly on display, 24/7. Indians are just about making sense of this, accurately described in the imminently watchable hit, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, where a 12,000 pound Hermes bag becomes a satirical character, Bagwati. The three friends on a road trip gaze at it with bemused incomprehension; the (truthful) joke being that the prized accessory for Indian women of high stature are expensive handbags. For the last decade the family jeweller has been cast aside in favour of Dior and Chanel. The march of time? More like baby steps towards exploring sophistication.

The writer is director, Hutkay Films