Decoding the Met Gala 2025 theme through Indian dandies

Silk cravats. Sharp lapels. A smirk worn like fresh cologne. Dandyism has always been about more than just a man in a good suit. It’s a cultural cipher—rooted in rebellion, race, and identity. At first glance, the dandy is a vision of elegance. But look closer, and you’ll see a more subversive silhouette: someone dressed not merely for admiration, but to challenge the colonial gaze. Nowhere is this more evident than in the African-American community, something that has inspired the Costume Institute’s new exhibition, ‘Superfine: Tailoring Black Style’, spotlighting the influence of the black dandy over the past 300 years and this year’s Met Gala dress code, ‘Tailored for You’—scheduled for May 5.

While the co-chairs of the Gala—Colman Domingo, A$AP Rocky, Lewis Hamilton, and Pharrell Williams—perfectly embody the modern dandy, dandyism is a magpie movement that picked up elements along its long route. The phenomenon reached its crescendo in the 1980s and 1990s when American fashion designer Dapper Dan flipped the luxury industry inside out by reimagining high fashion for hip-hop. He dressed rappers like Jay-Z and LL Cool J in upcycled Gucci, Fendi, and Louis Vuitton, long before those maisons even acknowledged street culture. But before him, there was 19th-century social reformer Frederick Douglass, who understood the semiotics of tailoring deeply. “A man’s character always takes its hue, more or less, from the form and colour of his dress,” he once proclaimed—a philosophy that travelled far. Across the Atlantic and into colonial India.

The Indian context

In India, dandyism was more than resistance. It was a reclamation. Even before the arrival of the British, Indian aristocracy already had a deeply entrenched grammar of menswear codes. The Mughals perfected this vocabulary with fabrics that were lighter than air and precious jewels that mirrored the stars. Clothing wasn’t excess, it was an expression—of lineage, of divinity.

British rule introduced fine tailoring but not taste. Indian men began to adapt Western silhouettes not to assimilate but to unsettle. Enter the princely dandies. Men like Maharaja Yeshwant Rao Holkar II of Indore, whose portraits by Man Ray and Cecil Beaton could rival any Bond-era European aristocrat. His wardrobe—filled with Cartier accessories, Savile Row suits, and custom sherwanis—was a study in duality. Elsewhere, Mahboob Ali Khan, the sixth Nizam of Hyderabad, was known for never repeating an outfit, while Wajid Ali Shah, the last Nawab of Awadh, wore his signature angrakha with one panel exposed. Even outside the royal courts, stylish men were instantly recognised by their penchant for muslin kurtas and betel-stained lips—something that Vātsyāyana’s Kama Sutra has described as one of the most attractive things a man can do.

This cross-pollination became even more poignant in the Caribbean, where both Indian and African communities—scattered by the winds of the empire—found common ground. One emblematic figure is Julius Soubise. Born in St Kitts to an enslaved Jamaican woman, he rose through English society with sheer charm and style. But it was in India where he left an unexpected sartorial legacy, establishing a riding and fencing school in Calcutta. A Caribbean-born black man teaching British codes of conduct in colonial India—what could be dandier than that?

What is the Indian dandy wearing today?

For Jagvir Matharoo, creative director of The Flame Store in Goa, a modern-day dandy is someone who “mixes the old and new, structured and fluid, masculine and feminine—with only one rule: confidence lies not in what you wear, but how you wear it”. His approach is deeply personal. “I build my wardrobe around investment pieces—beige neutrals, vintage velvets, signature gold lamé trousers and classic Salvatore Ferragamo shoes,” says Jagvir.

Matharoo mixes the old and new, structured and fluid, masculine and feminine—with only one rule: confidence lies not in what you wear, but how you wear it

“My style evolved from preppy in my twenties to experimental in my thirties. Currently in my forties, I love classic 1940s menswear silhouettes but mixed with the softness of texture and form.” Jagvir favours international designers like Dries Van Noten, John Galliano, Yohji Yamamoto, and Alexander McQueen as well as Indian labels like Rosani, Bloni, and Rajesh Pratap Singh. “Clothing is and always has been a conversation starter and brings a certain eloquence to the table. It is also a reflection of one’s personality,” he adds.

Pitti Uomo regular Jeet Tailor echoes this philosophy. “I believe one should always dress with intention,” he says, adding, “My generation loves to experiment but there’s something about the timelessness of a good suit that stands out to me. The Met couldn’t have picked a better theme this year.” For Jeet, a perfectly tailored suit in fine Loro Piana wool is the ultimate statement. “Nothing beats a six-button, double-breasted British suit in navy or charcoal,” he says. The accessories? A vintage Rolex Day-Date or the Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso will do the trick.

As someone who runs a bespoke label centred around tailoring, Jeet has the innate ability to recommend the perfect fit and cut to almost every type of client. “It’s all about crafting the outfit to match your body type and frame. If you’re a buff guy, maybe a narrow pinstripe would look suave on you, and so on,” he adds.

While almost always centred on men, the dandy’s tale would be incomplete without the female gaze. In 19th-century Europe, female writers like George Sand wore men’s suits to challenge the gendered limits of public life. Later, old-Hollywood icon Marlene Dietrich turned menswear into mystique. This eventually graduated into Yves Saint Laurent’s iconic Le Smoking tuxedo in 1966. India, too, had its icons. Amrita Sher-Gil comes to mind. Her androgynous self-portraits and tailored kurtas collapsed gender binaries long before the term even entered our lexicon.

Amidst the viral reels and endless discourse about men wearing boring suits, it’s easy to forget that the Met Gala isn’t just a red-carpet event. It’s a fundraiser for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute and its annual showcase of carefully curated historical clothing and accessories. As we get ready to critique our favourite celebrities, one must remember that dandyism is not about embellishment, it is about authorship. A well-cut jacket becomes a manifesto. A cravat, a kind of calligraphy. Whether in Harlem or Hyderabad, the dandy always asks the same question: What if beauty could be a form of resistance?