Jacinda Ardern announced that she was stepping away from the apex of political power with a relaxing of her usual political dress code.
For one of the biggest speeches of her political career (granted, her tenure was a series of historic speeches and moments; no wonder her tank is empty), she was not wearing her typical power dressing uniform of a smart blouse or blazer.
Instead, it was a relatively nondescript button-up dress with full skirt and balloon sleeves; a relaxed take on the traditional shirt dress, aka the reliable fallback of busy women everywhere. It was, however, another sartorial sign of the signature soft power she’s championed over six years.
The dress was by emerging Auckland-based designer Caitlin Crisp, a new name in Ardern’s political wardrobe. During her time as prime minister, she has come to rely on a small number of local designers, regularly wearing pieces by Kate Sylvester, Juliette Hogan, Ingrid Starnes, Maaike, Kiri Nathan and Harman Grubisa; those who were clearly deemed trustworthy and discreet, women-owned businesses and, crucially, were made in NZ.
Over that tenure leading the country, she and her team expertly walked the tightrope of supporting local fashion while subtly distancing herself from it.
Like all politicians, here and overseas, Ardern has maximised the power of dress to signify authority and relatability and, as one of – if not the most – photographed person in the country, develop a visual signature through imagery. Think of US senator John Fetterman’s sweatshirts and Dickies, UK PM Rishi Sunak’s Prada loafers or National leader Christopher Luxon’s swap of a suit jacket for a woolly one to meet farmers in Temuka.
It is a careful balancing act of looking like a leader and ‘appropriate’; captured just this morning by Chris Hipkins, interviewed by Newshub while out for a run wearing a tracksuit, cap and mirrored wraparound sunglasses (yes, those trending gas station sunnies). “I will see you at the airport when I’m appropriately dressed,” he said, when asked if he’d be running for Labour leader.
Local politicians and prime ministers have regularly worn New Zealand fashion designers and makers – an easy but meaningful way to show support for local industries like design and manufacturing. John Key wore tailored suits made by local tailors including RJB Design and Helen Clark often wore custom Adrienne Winkelmann. Ardern’s approach felt different in that she loosened up the sharp shouldered, uptight expectations of the role, dressing in a way that many other New Zealand women do too.
Her support in buying and wearing New Zealand fashion was valued by the industry, but generally discussed respectfully and off-the-record for fear of undermining her work and leadership, and being seen as retrograde while feeding the intense misogyny that Ardern faced daily.
Her legacy will be so much more than what she wore – calm but assertive strength in crisis, an agenda of fair social policy, kindness – but the stereotypical ‘frivolity’ of fashion is hard to shake off.
“Jacinda has been a huge advocate for New Zealand fashion. Her global influence put New Zealand fashion brands on the world stage and our industry was fortunate to have her support,” said designer Kate Sylvester following Thursday’s news. “But her legacy will be as an amazing role model for future generations of strong, confident women.”
Ardern regularly wore her designs, choosing Sylvester’s jacquard floral dress to be sworn in, in 2017 – one of the most visible and photographed moments of her leadership. But it had no ‘meaning’, with Ardern telling Stuff, "I just spotted it online. I thought, 'That'll do the trick.'" – starting her two terms as PM as she meant to go on.
Designer Juliette Hogan made pieces that were worn for several of the prime minister’s most high-profile moments: the gown that a pregnant Ardern wore with a kahu huruhuru from Ngāti Rānana in that one-for-the-history-books photo at Buckingham Palace, the simple black dress for the Queen’s funeral, the well-worn lapel less blazer in perfect Labour red that also featured on election hoardings.
“The fact that she used her platform to showcase and support New Zealand creatives, in fashion and other areas too, is really a testament to the person she is,” Hogan said yesterday. “She’s so incredibly passionate and patriotic about this country, and every opportunity she ensured that she represented it in the best light possible.”
It also helped in building the iconography of the leader as powerful but relatable, enhancing the image and message but never the focus.
The first photo that comes to mind for me is Ardern in her lounge on election night, awaiting results and wearing a custom look by Karangahape Road based brand Maaike with a pair of slippers – perfectly symbolising the contrast of the personal and extremely public role she held.
In 2018 she chose the everyman combination of a white shirt, jeans and sneakers to announce her pregnancy (personal news that was incidentally announced five years ago to the day, also on January 19).
And of course, the Pashmina and black blazer regularly worn for all those 1pm Covid updates; both reliable talking points during a time when we were all a little bored, scared and in need of comfort and distraction.
More movingly, and more importantly to her legacy, was the photo that went around the world in 2019 when she wore a hijab to meet refugees and members of the Muslim community following the Christchurch terror attack, described as the face of empathy. Not ‘fashion’, but an example of dress as symbolism – and connection.
Recently it seemed as though she had a new assuredness in connecting with fashion. In June, Ardern wore a hot pink suit for an appearance on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert in the US, a bold colour that was not Labour red and, as I wrote then, “an outfit and colour of optimism”.
On Thursday, she opted for subtlety; a sort of visual blank slate. Ardern’s fiancé Clarke Gayford sat in the front row as she spoke, matching her in navy (or perhaps it was black, but still a similar tone). Leaving the press conference side by side, they were a visual symbol of a cohesive unit, walking towards their family’s future.
