The 5 Best-Dressed Men in Congress

Politico

12-03-2025

Queen Victoria once warned her son, the future Edward VII, that public figures should never wear anything 'extravagant or slang,' lest they invite unwanted scrutiny. Current and former members of Congress from both sides of the aisle mostly follow her advice, but those who ignore it often end up in embarrassing headlines: Marco Rubio teetering back to his tour bus in Cuban heels, John Fetterman lumbering through Congress in gym clothes, Ron DeSantis squeezing into cowboy boots rumored to conceal secret height-boosting lifts.
Congress is not exactly known for its fashion, and when it does come up, it's because something has gone wrong. But there are a few standout members from both sides of the aisle who know how to dress well without embarrassing themselves. Before his retirement, Sen. Mitt Romney (R-Utah) was among the most tastefully dressed men in Washington. And Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.), always a stylish dresser, is so savvy about fashion that she's deliberately wielded clothing as a political tool, something she's discussed on her Instagram.
Clearly, a better-dressed Congress — if not a more functional one — is possible. And a handful of current members are proving it. So I wanted to highlight a few of the most fashionable people in what is perhaps America's least fashionable institution. Many of Congress' best dressed people are women, but since I'm a menswear writer, I decided to focus on the men. With that in mind, here are the five most stylish guys in Congress.
Brooks Brothers set the template for classic American tailoring when they debuted their natural-shouldered sack suits and oxford-cloth button-down shirts at the turn of the 20th century. But that aesthetic has largely faded from the halls of Congress, replaced by President Donald Trump's 1980s power suits and young staffers' tight jackets and slim-fit chinos. Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse is one of the few who still upholds the old standard. A Yale graduate and descendant of Charles Crocker — one of the Central Pacific Railroad's founding tycoons — Whitehouse dresses in the understated, patrician style that was once a North Star of American menswear. His suits are moderately padded, with lapels of sensible width, and his ties, adorned with quiet patterns, are knotted in a traditional four-in-hand. But his signature move is his button-down collar, a detail that separates the merely well-dressed from those aware of this country's great sartorial history. Most modern button-downs are so shrunken they look like they're apologizing for their existence. Whitehouse, by contrast, wears a classic version: unlined, so the collar gently rumples and shifts as he moves, giving his look a natural ease, with points long enough to roll gracefully, forming an S-shaped curve that looks like the edges of an angel's wings. In an era when American tailoring has drifted into obscurity, Whitehouse remains one of its last steadfast torchbearers.
If Rep. Mike Johnson wasn't elected to the speakership for his leadership skills, he could have won on style alone. He embodies the ideal Republican aesthetic: a crisp side part, dark tortoiseshell glasses and unimpeachable tailoring. He's like a grown-up Alex P. Keaton, distinguished by classic cuts that exude restraint, reliability and Reagan-era respectability. His shoulders have just enough padding to lend presence without creating linebacker bulk, while his lapels sit in that ideal middle ground, neither too wide nor too narrow. The speaker also understands proportion. His jackets are cut to bisect him halfway from his jacket collar to the floor, allowing for a lower buttoning point that creates a flattering V-shaped silhouette. His shirt collar has points long enough to tuck underneath his jacket's lapels, maintaining an unbroken line that frames his face.
Crucially, Johnson knows what not to do. He steers clear of distracting elements like contrast buttonholes and walnut-colored footwear, which have ruined the cohesiveness of many an outfit. Yet he still manages to personalize his style in a world that often demands conformity. Instead of defaulting to the standard-issue dark blue or grey worsteds of Washington, he opts for subtle, discrete checks. And rather than loud displays of sartorial flair, he adds individuality through tasteful details like French-cuff shirts adorned with cufflinks. Johnson is proof that you can make nuanced stylistic choices while staying firmly within the bounds of conservative business dress.
In Washington, the style bar is set so low for men that even a properly hemmed trouser can vault you into the ranks of the city's best dressed. But Sen. Raphael Warnock goes beyond those basics. At the 2023 Celebration Bowl in Atlanta, Warnock looked like he stepped out of a Ralph Lauren campaign, layering a pink checked shirt, a burgundy quilted vest and a Polo Bear sweater from the brand's Morehouse collection — a nod to his alma mater. On Seersucker Thursday — an annual tradition when Capitol Hill momentarily trades its usual monotony for a touch of Southern charm — Warnock doesn't just blend in; he stands out. While many lawmakers wear seersucker suits with notch lapels, Warnock ups the ante with a more formal peak lapel, an unexpected detail in casual summer tailoring that adds a confident twist on the time-honored look. Warnock is also among the few men who still understand that a single-breasted dinner jacket should be paired with a waist covering, arriving at black-tie events properly dressed in a cummerbund. Even when he forgoes a tie — sacrificing one of the few chances a man has to inject color or pattern — he ensures his outfit doesn't fall flat. Instead of a stark white spread-collar shirt, he opts for something more relaxed, like a dark blue button-up or a subtle check, thus ensuring his outfit still feels intentional, even without a tie. In politics, where dressing too well can invite the wrong kind of attention, Warnock strikes the perfect balance. He walks right up to the line of style distinction without ever crossing into distraction.
In men's tailoring, millimetric differences have an outsized impact. That's what makes it so impressive that Sen. John Thune, the towering Republican Majority Leader, is one of the best-dressed men in Congress. At 6'4', the former college basketball player is too tall for most off-the-rack clothing, even in long sizes. Yet his tailoring is remarkably well-executed, free from the common pitfalls that plague modern business attire. His jackets fit cleanly through the shoulders, without the telltale sleeve head divots (the concavities that can appear where the sleeve attaches to the shoulder) that suggest an overly tight upper back. His trousers sit high enough to prevent his shirt from awkwardly peeking out below his jacket's buttoning point, and their fuller cut drapes naturally instead of clinging to his calves. Most importantly, his jackets are long enough to properly cover his seat, allowing his tailor to place the buttoning point at his natural waist — the narrowest part of his torso — creating a balanced, flattering V-shaped silhouette. Thune is proof that great tailoring isn't about body type; it's about attention to detail. If he wants to extend an act of bipartisanship, he should consider sliding his tailor's card underneath Sen. John Fetterman's office door.
Sen. Bernie Sanders will probably never make the cover of Vogue. But for those who see fashion as more than just red carpets and runways, he possesses an ineffably stylish quality — one rooted in character rather than convention. His look is instantly recognizable. You see it with the silver-haired men of Manhattan's Upper East Side, shuffling around in mustard-stained button-ups and floppy hats; the ink-blotted academics pacing through university halls in baggy corduroys and stretched-out sweaters; the older Vermonters browsing independent bookstores in rumpled blazers that haven't seen a dry cleaner in decades. Sanders fits right into this lineage. His suits are slightly oversized, his clothes perpetually wrinkled, his ties always a bit askew. Yet somehow, it works. Why? Because, like all great style, Sanders' look tells a story. It signals that he is serious but unbothered, willing to wear the uniform of a senator but not consumed by the polish of power. His rumpled suits, the slight disarray — they suggest a man focused on bigger concerns. That kind of detachment, that devil-may-care attitude, is the essence of cool. Unlike Fetterman — whose gym clothes can sometimes feel like a self-conscious performance of working-class grit — Bernie never looks like he's in costume. His rumpled suits are as much a part of him as his thick Brooklyn accent — another holdover from a generation of New York intellectuals who, despite their disheveled appearances, exuded authority and authenticity. Think of the bespectacled writers who once held court at The New Yorker, or the charm of a Saul Bellow protagonist. Sanders channels that same ethos. And in a world where so much of politics is performance, there's something reassuring about a man whose style — like his convictions — hasn't changed in decades.
Photos: Whitehouse: Photo by Tom Williams-Pool/Getty Images;; Johnson:(2); Warnock: Anna; Itoro N. Umontuen/The Atlanta Voice; Thune:;; Sanders: Brendan Smialowski/AFP via Getty Images;