Roger J. Stone Jr. set foot on the stage — sorry, the floor of the federal court in Washington — on Friday for his scheduling hearing in a somber pinstriped ocean-dark suit, matching dark tie, pristine white shirt and muted pocket handkerchief, bringing to a temporary close the latest installment of what may become one of the most-watched spinoffs of the reality show known as “The Trump Administration.”
It was a veritable replay of what Mr. Stone, the political operative and former Trump adviser, chose to wear for his earlier court appearance, on Tuesday (a single-breasted three-button navy suit, pure white shirt with a Windsor collar, white pocket handkerchief and marine blue knit tie).
That itself was a more formal version of the navy polo shirt with white polo pony and dark jeans Mr. Stone had worn last Friday, when he was arrested on seven counts of obstruction, witness tampering and making false statements. He appeared after the indictment with both arms raised in a Nixonian victory sign.
Mr. Stone after his indictment on Jan. 25.CreditJoe Raedle/Getty Images
Why do such costumes matter?
Because Mr. Stone has long treated — and referred to — his wardrobe as exactly that: a key part of the theater of his life in politics.
This is, after all, a man who wore full morning dress to the 2017 inauguration; who is famous for his penchant for bespoke double-breasted suits from Savile Row or Alan Flusser (a tailor known for his master-of-the-universe clients); who once joked that he had more shoes than Imelda Marcos; and who called himself a “showman” in his 2018 book, “Stone’s Rules: How to Win at Politics, Business, and Style.” Someone who believes fully in the power of clothing as communications tool, and is comfortable admitting it. Crowing about it, even.
And because in court, defendants generally don’t talk. Their lawyers, their demeanor and their clothes talk for them. Given that Judge Amy Berman Jackson is still considering a gag order preventing Mr. Stone (who spent his time between hearings giving news conferences and making appearances) from discussing his case publicly, it’s possible that at some point he won’t be able to speak out of court either. Which puts an even greater burden on what he wears to start emoting in his place.
So what does it mean that Mr. Stone, who runs a best- and worst-dressed list of his own, has suddenly adopted a sartorial stance of relative (on the Stone spectrum) understatement?
First, that nothing he is wearing was chosen by accident, not even the polo and jeans. After all, he well understands that, as he wrote in “Stone’s Rules”: “An impression is made based on how you are dressed. It’s how you present yourself, how the world sees you.” (Of the 140 rules in the book, 54 are overtly about clothes.)
Just as he presumably understands that if ever a president cared about how costumes play, it is Mr. Trump (generals! straight from central casting!). Who in a recent interview with The New York Times happened to refer to Mr. Stone as a “character.”
And that Mr. Stone well understands that the president — someone who does not like his deputies to steal his spotlight, holds the power of the small screen dear and has the power of the pardon — will be watching.
In which case, No. 30 of “Stone’s Rules” comes into play: “A well-cut dark blue suit is required for any public performance where credibility and authority are key.” Probably the current situation qualifies.
Indeed, not long after his Tuesday court visit, Mr. Stone appeared in a somewhat surprising video posted on the YouTube channel of the Daily Caller, the conservative website co-founded by Tucker Carlson where he also has a fashion column (Stone on Style), in which he announced, “You have to think long and hard about what you’re going to wear before your arraignment.” He talked everyone through the choices he made, including cuff links, pocket square and underwear (the latter perhaps falling into the category of too much information).
He went so far as to reveal in that video that he chose not to wear one of his many made-to-measure double-breasted suits (he is partial to pinstripes and plaid) because they were “a little too wealthy looking and I am dirt poor at this point, having been destroyed financially by a two-year inquisition by Robert Mueller.”
Then he told everyone that the three-button suit he did go for was 30 years old. And while he acknowledged the potential foppish touch of the pocket hankie, he called the one he picked “pedestrian,” perhaps to lessen the effect.
The theory has some merit. If one is trying to communicate truthfulness and transparency, as Mr. Stone’s previous statements would suggest is his aim, then he is correct in saying that dressing in the clothes of the skyscraper set — the kind that suggest bourbon in cut crystal glasses on the way to a private plane with butter-soft leather seats — is probably not the way to start.
On the other hand, the navy-and-white combo he has adopted as a quasi uniform, which in color theory has associations with true blue loyalty and innocence, tells a different story. And, in wearing what he has written about, arguably, he is demonstrating the courage of his convictions.
Still, by Friday Mr. Stone seemed to have changed his mind about the single- versus double-breasted idea. Perhaps because he has also admitted that his double-breasted suits are his “armor,” and right now he needs as much of that as he can get.