Why the New Elites Dress Like Everyone Except Themselves

A century ago, elites looked like elites.

Aristocrats wore silk.

Industrialists wore top hats.

Bankers wore suits.

The purpose was obvious. Status was meant to be seen.

Today something curious has happened.

The billionaire wears a hoodie.

The private equity partner wears a fleece vest.

The technology founder dresses like someone who repairs bicycles for a living.

The old elite competed to appear successful.

The new elite compete to appear unaffected by success.

Which raises an interesting question:

Who can appear least elite while being most elite?

This is not hypocrisy. Most of these people are perfectly genuine. In many cases, they are remarkably normal.

That is what makes the phenomenon interesting.

Looking elite is no longer cool.

Being perceived as authentic is.

The old status symbol was a Rolex.

The new status symbol is not caring about Rolexes.

Or at least appearing not to.

I think of this as Competitive Humility.

Consider the quiet competition that now takes place among the comfortable classes.

My charity-shop shoes are more authentic than yours.

My local coffee shop is more obscure than yours.

My fleece vest is less pretentious than yours.

The competition has not disappeared.

Only the scoreboard has changed.

The old elite displayed wealth openly. The signal was straightforward: the watch, the suit, the car, the house. Status was meant to be seen.

The modern elite often signal something different. They signal that they are unconcerned with such displays. The expensive watch disappears beneath the cuff. The suit is replaced by a hoodie. The luxury car becomes an aging Land Rover.

Yet the signal remains.

The old elite displayed wealth.

The new elite display their indifference to wealth.

Both are forms of wealth display.

The billionaire in a hoodie is not rejecting the game.

He is playing a more sophisticated version of it.

But Competitive Humility has a hidden requirement.

It only works when your status is already secure.

A billionaire can wear old shoes without consequence.

A founder can drive an aging car.

A private equity partner can show up in a fleece vest.

Their position is already established.

They can afford ambiguity.

Others often cannot.

The ability to appear ordinary is often a privilege of the extraordinary.

Competitive Humility is a luxury good.

The greatest luxury is not being mistaken for rich.

It is knowing that you won’t be mistaken for poor.

Every age develops its own costume.

The Victorian banker in a top hat and the technology founder in a hoodie are separated by a century of fashion and almost nothing else.

Both are communicating status.

Both are wearing uniforms.

The difference is that one generation knew it was wearing one.

The other likes to think it isn’t.