Trump’s shoes and the rise of 'political looksmaxxing'

The author is an editorial writer at the JoongAng Ilbo. In early March, cameras captured U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio chatting with lawmakers at the U.S. Capitol in Washington. Attention, however, shifted not to his words but to his feet. A noticeable gap, wide enough to fit two fingers, separated his heel from the back of his black leather shoes. The image seemed oddly at odds with the stature expected of a top diplomat. Behind the scenes lies an anecdote. In December of last year, U.S. President Donald Trump reportedly criticized the shoes worn by Rubio and Vice President JD Vance during a meeting in the Oval Office. He then ordered Oxford shoes from his preferred brand, Florsheim, and presented them as gifts. What followed drew more attention. Rather than exchanging the ill-fitting shoes, Rubio appeared in public wearing them despite their size. The visible gap at the heel was read by some as a symbolic gesture, suggesting that the leader's judgment took precedence over personal comfort. It became a visual cue of deference, even a performative display of loyalty. The New York Times described the episode as part of Trump's broader effort to regulate the appearance of his aides, including facial hair and clothing. According to the report, Trump views his inner circle as "assets," expecting their outward image to align with his personal brand. The newspaper drew parallels between this tendency and the growing trend of "looksmaxxing" among young men in some Western countries. Looksmaxxing refers to the practice of maximizing physical appearance through plastic surgery, diet and exercise, often quantified as a form of personal specification. It reflects a belief that in an uncertain future, the body is one of the few domains individuals can control. A similar logic appears to operate in politics. The difference is that the standard shifts from self-optimization to the preferences of a superior. Instead of demonstrating conviction or policy competence, individuals align themselves with an approved image to signal loyalty and capability. This phenomenon may be described as political looksmaxxing. Such image-driven signaling is not unfamiliar in Korea. However, instead of formal symbols such as dress shoes, politicians often turn to more practical items such as sneakers. During the 2022 presidential election, Rep. Ahn Cheol-soo of the People Power Party (PPP), then a third-party candidate, appeared in red sneakers when announcing his unification with the PPP's nominee, Yoon Suk Yeol. The gesture condensed a complex political decision into a visual symbol. By adopting the color associated with another camp, the policy gap between the two figures was quickly reframed as a unified front. A similar case involved President Lee Jae Myung and former Democratic Party floor leader Park Chan-dae. When Park launched his bid for the party leadership last year, he wore the same blue sneakers Lee had worn during the presidential campaign. While the message emphasized a hands-on approach to politics, the public largely interpreted it as a symbolic gesture of alignment with the leader. If Trump's shoes reveal hierarchical control, Korea's sneakers emphasize solidarity and unity. In both cases, however, the choice of image tends to follow power rather than personal conviction. Korea is now entering the campaign period for the June 3 local elections. Campaign sites will once again be filled with candidates wearing sneakers and jackets in vivid party colors. They will lace up their shoes and highlight their presence on the ground. Yet if these images are consumed merely as symbols of loyalty rather than expressions of commitment, the implications are different. The challenges facing Korea are far from superficial. The youth underemployment rate remains above 20 percent, while rising housing costs continue to strain household stability. The local elections will take place at a time when the population gap between Seoul and surrounding met...