Has there ever been a politician more unremarkable for her sartorial choices than Kamala Harris?
Most elected officials (or their spouses) use clothing to communicate in some way. Hillary Clinton wore a rainbow-colored carrot-leg pantsuit that quickly stamped (for better or worse) the symbolism of female power. Or Nancy Pelosi in a bright Max Mara coat that cast her as a headstrong woman willing to take on then-President Donald Trump. Trump himself wears overly long ties, which serve as a visual allegory for his self-importance. Even President Biden wears aviator sunglasses as a symbol of his gentle masculinity, as seen by fans and critics alike.
Harris, the likely Democratic nominee after Biden leaves office in the 2024 election, has mostly resisted such moments. Her wardrobe of pantsuits, from designer brands like Altuzarra, Akris and Dolce & Gabbana that are common in boardrooms and high-end law firms, are mostly in safe, corporate hues like banker’s blue and pale purple. Regardless of the designer, she almost always wears a long, strong-shouldered jacket and bootcut trousers that are so ordinary that, well, they seem to refuse to draw attention to themselves.
Early on in her term as vice president, she waded into the kind of overt fashion diplomacy that’s expected of female politicians: In January 2021, WWD reported that Harris was rumored to be working with Karla Welch, best known as Justin Bieber’s stylist and an outspoken Democrat who frequently posts on Instagram about civil rights, diversity, and Trump’s ongoing legal woes.
Harris, who is Black and South Asian, wore work by Black designers including Sergio Hudson, Christopher John Rogers and Kerby Jean-Raymond of Pierce Moss to the inauguration, as she wanted to mark the moment as the first woman to hold the vice presidency with her sartorial choice.
That same month, she appeared on the cover of Vogue. Photographed by Tyler Mitchell, she appeared in her own clothes, but with then-Vogue contributor Gabriella Karefa-Johnson on hand as sitting editor, a stylist who oversees the subject’s own choices. The photo was heavily criticized for being too casual, with jeans, sneakers and loose pink fabric behind her. “The cover was disrespectful to Kamala D. Harris,” The Washington Post senior critic Robin Givhan wrote at the time. “It was too familiar.”
It was then, without anyone’s permission, decided that dressing was not her specialty. In fact, it was liberating for her, and for us. Maybe it was only because she was a woman that we cared about her clothes. Dressing in a mundane way, or simply looking obliging, allowed her, and us, to focus on her work and accomplishments, rather than how she looked at work. Even websites and social media accounts such as What Kamala Wore and Kamala’s Closet, which once tracked her style choices, have gone dormant in recent years.
Ms. Harris has certainly strengthened and sharpened her political skills over the past year: Even before her shaky performance in Mr. Biden’s debates, she had developed into one of the administration’s most effective and outspoken communicators, particularly on issues like maternal mortality and abortion.
Already, any notion that Harris was ineffectual or had limited influence has been dispelled by Democrats and their allies, replaced with images of a meme-ready old lady and harkening back to moments of her cool, like when she calmly questioned Brett M. Kavanaugh during her 2018 confirmation hearings. Whether it’s a sincere reassessment of the record we’re told or an attempt to gloss over legitimate concerns in the rush to nominate a viable rival to Trump, she has made subtle sartorial changes in recent months that are so quiet you might not notice them, but they lend Harris a new sense of strength and sophistication, perhaps showing us how she imagines herself to be most comfortable.
Maybe it was the Céline dress. In late April, Harris wore a form-fitting, sequin-covered, turtleneck gown from the French brand designed by Hedi Slimane. The sparkle faded towards the neck of the dress, revealing a bit of her shoulders. It wasn’t anything special, but the choice of the gown from fashion’s king of cool (who invented the skinny jean, pioneered sleek, commercial designer fashion, and is rumored to be Chanel’s next designer) signaled at least a passing interest in the idea that people will pay big bucks for certain kinds of dresses precisely because a designer can engineer a silhouette that looks good on them. She had a big, thick costume ring on her index finger. She looked almost hip. Céline is not a go-to for white-collar career women, like Altuzarra or Dolce & Gabbana, nor is it a story-driven fashion house that tells the stories of its makers, like Christopher John Rogers or Gabriela Hearst, popular with women in politics. This is a brand beloved by those who love rigorous, yet familiar, clothing that tells exactly the story the wearer wants to tell: “I am powerful, I am united, I demand.”
A month later, Harris represented Kenya at a White House dinner wearing a forest-green cape dress by French label Chloé, complete with a gold rosette around her neck and a matching gold bangle on her forearm. The brand had just hired a Frenchwoman, Chemena Kamali, as its new designer, who has an irresistible charm and even better hair, and has already made waves with her ultra-feminine, slightly bohemian designs. Again, these are details Harris is unlikely to care about. She’s not looking for approval from Vogue or fashion mavens; rather, she just wants to look good.
And in her latest magazine profile, a lengthy interview with Rolling Stone, where she was photographed with Hlo Ngara, she looked radiant in a white suit and black scarf blouse. Relaxed and at ease, she was glowing in this Vogue-submerged spot. The photo was reportedly styled by Hollywood powerhouse stylist Leslie Flemar, whose work includes women like Charlize Theron and Jennifer Connelly, who always look as impeccably dressed in their gowns as Greek statues in chitons. Flemar and her rep did not respond to requests for comment on whether she is currently advising Harris on her wardrobe, but whether it’s a one-off collaboration or an ongoing partnership, it seems to have made an impression.
This isn’t a full-blown makeover; instead, it’s another sign of how Harris has been solidifying her persona into something less ambiguous. Last year, Atlantic reporter Elena Plott Calabro wrote that Harris was nominated for vice presidential office at a time when diversity and representation seemed synonymous, and that despite her background, this kind of political activism is somewhat foreign to the former prosecutor and senator.
She still wears Sergio Hudson dresses, choosing one of his designs for last year’s White House Correspondents’ Dinner, for example, but apart from that inauguration moment, she hasn’t made it a priority to wear designer dresses that are linked to her background, a strategic choice perhaps as many want that to be the focus. Dressing to explain one’s identity — dressing to tell one’s story, as is so popular among celebrities and politicians today — doesn’t seem to be something she’s comfortable with. Rather, it’s a cool glow of strength.
Ultimately, Harris’ outfits tell us something: she’s most comfortable looking in control.
