The ordinary decorativeness of the sarees of Rekha Gupta, the newly appointed chief minister of Delhi, may not charm the aesthete. Yet, there is deliberation in her choices. In her highly watched, high–on–decibel appearances so far—from the day she was picked by the BJP as its Shalimar Bagh candidate for the Delhi polls to her oath–taking ceremony—Gupta has already worn much too yellow, much too orange. On the day her name was announced as Delhi’s next CM, she posed in a yellow saree with a Madhubani border, the blouse orange, holding up the victory sign and flashing a world-wide smile. The party’s saffron stole fell down her shoulders turning her into a veritable flag.

For taking oath as the new CM, it was orange on orange. A busy patterned saree in shades of her party’s colours topped with a matching half-sleeved jacket, also with busy patterns, that reminded seasoned onlookers of the late BJP leader Sushma Swaraj’s custom looks. Swaraj’s “co-ords”—not the phrase we used then—defined the looks of the stateswoman, especially in the later years of her career.

The results of the Delhi Assembly elections have brought back the story of the saree in Indian politics. More than a decade after Sushma Swaraj and Sheila Dikshit, both former Delhi chief ministers and leading ladies in saree politics, there is a new chapter—Gupta versus Atishi.

Gupta toned down to a cream-white saree with a high-necked blouse when she was sworn in as a first–time MLA. But let’s just say we will not be swearing by the distinction of her sarees, their handloom quality, or other features anytime soon. If she has anything to showcase beyond dressing like a predictably attired lawyer-politician from Shalimar Bagh—fierce, no doubt, in her avowal—it is currently overshadowed. Her loud use of the party colour and the Sushma Swaraj cloning have drowned it out. Some will sense the first signs of branding, but it may be too early to speculate.

Wonder what Bansuri Swaraj—the rightful heir to her mother’s saree-nomics—has to say about this. Bansuri, also a lawyer-politician from the BJP, is primarily saree-clad, if not always, and warmly optimistic in her body language.

Gupta vs Atishi

Branding that stumbles into an emerging dress identity is a useful phrase when you turn the lens on Aam Aadmi Party’s Atishi, now the Leader of Opposition in the Delhi Assembly. She is engagingly pitted against Rekha Gupta, not only in the battle of capital causes but also in the politics of appearance.

At first sight, Atishi, a Stephanian and Rhodes scholar, appears tempered in her sartorial choices. But look closely, and you will notice a distinction. She began wearing sarees regularly after transitioning from being a significant AAP member to becoming the Delhi CM.

Starting out, Atishi sat next to an empty chair, waiting for the embattled “king” to reclaim his seat. That poorly chosen “non-aam” visual tool—the vacant chair—by a party that claims to be the saviour of the ordinary drew scorn.

But she stayed consistent, a highly prized political virtue. She rose above party colleagues Manish Sisodia and Sanjay Singh while the AAP chief wrangled with the inverted optics of ‘Sheesh Mahal’. Atishi persuasively asserted in her speeches that Kejriwal would return as the Delhi CM.

All through, she paid close attention to her attire. She once visited Delhi schools in a mauve and lilac Kanjeevaram saree, paired with a high-necked sweater—the go-to winter look for Delhi women. She gave her nondescript salwar kameez sets a well-deserved break, and began wearing silks and cottons with three-quarter sleeve blouses.

Look it up, you will find a black and white Ikat saree, a red Coimbatore cotton with a contrast border, a black and red silk, which she wore to the Delhi Assembly, an Ajrakh printed silk in black-blue-red, even printed cottons with white blouses.

In Atishi’s sarees and the plainness of her blouses—without the trims and edgings seen in Rekha Gupta’s—there is a visible doff to handloom simplicity. She cleverly broke the formula on an important day for camera optics, wearing a beige jacket, red scarf, trousers, and boots while filing her nomination from Kalkaji for the Delhi elections.

How women politicians wear India

Wearing India’s legacy handlooms continues to be seen as the “correct” choice for political leaders. One reason is that the only precedents they have, especially women politicians, are of saree-clad role models. Handloom is synonymised as a patriotic ideal. Within that frame, Sheila Dikshit made her personal preferences noticeable by primarily choosing handblocked, printed silks above cotton Ikats and woven Venkatgiris, which made her stand out from the Gandhis.

Sindoor and mangalsutra, worn by Swaraj and then Smriti Irani, among others, persist in India’s nari neta memoirs. But they are optional, and it is a relief to see Gupta not fussed with them.

If there are other statements worth gawking at, in terms of personal style, even with the essential language of communication being sarees, Mahua Moitra of the Trinamool Congress and our freshly minted film star-turned-MP Kangana Ranaut win hands down. Moitra is an aesthete and a learned master of appearance politics in an enviable way. With Ranaut, one cannot help but admire her glamorous negotiation of the difficult grammar of clothes—she blends what to wear with her talent for how to wear it. The latter part is hard to master. Noticeably, no female politician wears a sleeveless blouse to work.

Readers may find kapda journalists like me unserious. But while we are at it, if there is noticeable evolution within the small but deep world of handloom patriotism, it is in the sarees of President Droupadi Murmu. I sometimes wonder why so little is said about her well-chosen temple bordered drapes and striking graphic elements; her disinterest in florals, block prints, and hand-painted sarees. She wears her role powerfully well.

With the theatre thus set, Rekha Gupta and Atishi have lead roles to play. Gupta can show us, if she wants, how to style a BJP woman politician beyond combinations of saffron and orange. Atishi sits on a rare blank slate—with no style template or female AAP leader to emulate. Hopefully, she will wear Delhi really well.