By Garlin Gilchrist
Michigan Chronicle
https://michiganchronicle.com/
Ask an average millennial man how many suits he owns, and unless he works in law, finance, or perhaps mortuary science, the answer is likely less than five. You’d be lucky if it was anywhere near 10.
The reasons why men aren’t buying as many suits are mostly for the better. Mostly, depending on how you look at some of these things.
More millennials are putting off marriage or eschewing it completely, so there are fewer weddings to go to. People are living longer, so there are fewer funerals. Many professions were already trending toward business casual before the COVID-19 pandemic; after 2020 and the remote work takeover, pants themselves have become optional, let alone dress pants.
This six-foot-two millennial editor can count on one hand the number of times he’s bought a full suit in the last decade (four, one of which was bought from a friend’s Brooklyn stoop sale), while otherwise subsisting off the lazy man’s method of discounted blazers and sport coats with slacks in a different color that still match. And speaking of discounts, two of those suits were on the clearance rack, since with or without tailoring, a two- or three-piece set at full price that’s adequate enough to cover these lanky arms and legs can be more than the average car insurance payment in this town.
Those with longer limbs and torsos know the struggle of shopping for dress clothes, which is another reason why folks are not buying as many suits. Doing taxes is more pleasant.
From Easter Sundays to homecoming dances to job interviews, the taller person – or the boy growing a hair faster than his classmates – has spent countless hours in Penney’s, always Penney’s, for slacks that they pray don’t end up looking like clam diggers, and hoping that the sleeves of their blazers hit right at the wrist instead of poorly imitating a “Miami Vice” detective. All of this to avoid the insult that any of us who grew up in Detroit is very familiar with: “Young” — as in, “your pants are looking young!” “That shirt is looking a little young, bro!” Every tall person inevitably has that moment though, as there’s a picture of us in a suit somewhere in our past where something is glaringly off.
Michigan’s six-foot-seven Lt. Gov. Garlin Gilchrist II is familiar.
“I’ve had to get my suits and button-ups custom-made since I was in college,” he tells the Chronicle.
Much has been made of Gilchrist’s height, and he himself played it up for his one-time “Stand Tall for Michigan” campaign slogan, but there’s more to be said what it costs to look the part. And besides, we’ve previously discussed in this space public perception of women in elected positions when it comes to their sartorial choices. Not to be like “well, what about men?”, but…well, what about the men?
Some quick math shows that at 43, Gilchrist has been getting suits altered for about 25 years. For at least nine of those years, if we start from his 2017 run to become Detroit’s city clerk, Gilchrist has been on a campaign trail – currently running to become Michigan’s secretary of state – or a holder of public office. Next to anyone with a locker inside Little Caesars Arena, Gilchrist is the one of the most visible tall people in the state, and has likely spent more time – and money – with tailors and seamstresses in any given year than most of us will in a lifetime.
He’s not alone – in the political realm, at least. State Rep. Joe Tate, once a Southfield-Lathrup football phenom, stands at six-four. Eli Savit, who’s on the run to become Michigan’s Attorney General, is right up there with him at about six-and-a-half-feet tall; he played basketball in high school and college. He doesn’t hold office now, but one would be remiss to not acknowledge an actual professional basketball player that held office: Six-foot-three former Detroit Mayor Dave Bing, who succeeded the six-foot-five Kwame Kilpatrick when he took office.
With the exception of the steel magnate with an NBA pension, the tall man in the public eye has always had to set aside extra funds just to be presentable. For the men of Tate, Savit and Gilchrist’s generation, they have some additional tax to pay that many don’t have to.
While talking about his wardrobe with the Chronicle, Gilchrist didn’t disclose – and we didn’t ask, to be transparent – how much he spends, say, annually, on new suits. (He did note something endearing: His grandmother bought him his first suit to wear to a college internship at Microsoft.) One could surmise that after nearly a decade of public appearances, it’s well into the five-figure range.
“When I ran for city clerk, I was 34 and I thought that me being suited all the time would help people get the message that I took it seriously,” Gilchrist says. “And then as lieutenant governor, I tried to carry that same thing forward.”
Compare that logic and approach to that of former Gov. Rick Snyder, who famously never wore ties (except to the Detroit Athletic Club, where it was mandated) during his eight years in Lansing. Ninety percent of the time, just estimating, Snyder’s suits varied, but usually with a poplin blue oxford underneath. Former Detroit Mayor Mike Duggan, who’s aiming for the governor’s seat, was even more casual in public appearances during his 12 years on CAYMC’s 11th floor. Both men were well into their 50s during their respective times in office, and you can’t ignore that both men are white. Either of these attributes immediately deflect any skepticism, a privilege neither a 30-something nor a Black person, let alone both, is afforded.
And while there are several tall men at all levels of government, Black or otherwise, Gilchrist remains one of two Black people to ever hold statewide office in Michigan.
At times, there is undue burden placed on individuals in these positions, in that they’re not just doing their job, but representing an entire race and people while doing it. A more thorough political journalist could probably survey Black folks on both peninsulas to confirm this or not, or they could just stand alongside this editor when in conversation with Gilchrist at this year’s Fight For Freedom Fund dinner, where several people – all Black, of all ages – were standing in line to get two words and a selfie with him. Either way, Gilchrist has no choice but to invest more into his appearance in ways other politicians wouldn’t, and that choice wasn’t necessarily his to make.
Many, but not all, Black men are told at some point in their lives that they’ll only be taken seriously if they’re wearing a suit. Or rather, they won’t be taken seriously if they’re wearing anything else.
Before they were millennial men, millennial teens were constantly beat upside the head with the hammer of respectability politics, always being warned that they would never have a future if they kept wearing those T-shirts and gym shoes with somebody else’s name on them, and those baggy jeans with their drawers showing. (And let’s not get started on the homophobia behind comments like “you know in prison, there’s a reason why they let their drawers hang out like that.”)
Black folks aren’t a monolith though, so that “many, but not all” hit like a ton of bricks when after Gilchrist was asked if he heard such a thing, he said he’d never encountered it. “That’s not been my experience,” he said.
Gilchrist, is, however, doing his part to break that generational curse for the rest of us – whether he’s heard those sentiments or not. In his last year as lieutenant governor, Gilchrist points out that he’s been wearing suits less frequently. But he says that even though he’s been showing up more relaxed lately, eight years of showing up to work in the state’s second-highest office is just that: Showing up.
“I’m with people all the time. And so regardless of what I got on, what matters is that I’m here,” he says. “I think what people take seriously is the effort. And when you’ve been to all 83 countries in Michigan at least three times like I have, people see the work.”
There are those of us Black men who’ve rarely been given the opportunity to let our work speak for itself. At every stage of our life, we’re constantly preempting and preventing stigma and stereotypes. (Even before we have life are these defenses made – raise your hand if your Black parents told you that your birth name was chosen partially because it would look good on a resume, and/or people reading it might not automatically assume you’re Black.) But finally, we seem to be asserting some defiance.
There’s an alternate timeline where someone like Gilchrist doesn’t spend a small fortune on clothes just to impress or convince the skeptics who see nothing more than height, age, or color, or see all three and come to some other conclusion. We don’t know for sure if Gilchrist could have gotten as far in his career as he has now if he didn’t wear ties, if he wore suits that didn’t fit perfectly, if he didn’t wear suits at all and just stuck to khakis and jeans. We don’t know if his work would’ve been enough to speak for itself, allowing Gilchrist himself to simply show up. (He never said that he did feel like he was showing up inauthentically just because he showed up in a suit, by the way.)
We do have a glimpse of that possibility in the current timeline, though. Gilchrist’s height prompts the majority of us to look up, but lately we should be looking down.
At the time of our chat, Gilchrist is in a tailored navy suit paired with some J’s – specifically grey Air Jordan 1 lows he copped from the Nike store on Woodward. In addition to being more casual in general, Gilchrist, an admitted sneakerhead, has been wearing more and more gym shoes (sometimes with other folks’ name on them) with more formal attire.
“I got people in Lansing trying to wear gym shoes now,” Gilchrist laughs. “I think that there’s a way to have to show and have your personality come through, and that’s what [wearing gym shoes] meant for me.
“My job is to be who I am and not try to be anybody else, not try to hide any of my personality because I bring my full self to the work that I do – full effort, full energy, full personality, and I hope that that’s something that people would be welcoming to and want to learn more about as I learn more about them,” he elaborates. “I think that it’s a time when people feel like they can’t trust a lot of public officials, but they can trust a real person. And my job is to show up as a real, full person.”
