I have always loved fashion. Perhaps too much. I find myself consumed by the latest trends, tracing their migration from Milan to New York, watching as hemlines rise and fall, as colours shift. One of my favourite reading materials is Vogue because it understands something that political analysts often miss; people are moved by what is fresh. Before they are moved by what is right, they are moved by what is new.
This is a fascination I share with many women. And many men, though fewer admit it. There is something deeply human about the desire for renewal. If we had our way, we would change our wardrobes every season. Because it gives us hope, that vain belief that a new look might help us become a slightly better version of ourselves.
And in that way, we change leaders the same way, making way for stock empya every season.
I hope the stock empya, the shiny new ones in power, are paying attention. Your appeal is seasonal. Right now, you are the silk in a room full of cotton. The fresh cut. The unexpected colour. Constituents smile at you, not yet tired of your face or familiar with your flaws. Colleagues applaud you, still uncertain where your weaknesses lay. That is the window. That is the season of favour.
But here is the sobering truth, favour fades faster than fabric.
A politician’s efficacy in office is highest when they are both new enough to be trusted and wise enough not to waste that trust. The first months, sometimes the first year, are the runway. Everyone is watching, but they are also hoping.
That hope is capital. And like all capital, it must be invested before it depreciates.
Yet so many leaders mistake the season of favour for a permanent condition. They preen. They postpone hard decisions, believing the applause will last. They surround themselves with people who tell them the trend will never end. But the trend always ends. The old stock is not discarded because it is ugly. It is discarded because it is familiar. And familiarity is the enemy of enthusiasm.
So what does this mean for your efficacy?
Real impact happens before the season turns. While you are still shiny, while constituents lean in to hear you, while colleagues hesitate to oppose you, that is the moment to do the difficult, unglamorous, necessary work. Pass the bold policy. Root out inefficiency. Protect the vulnerable. Do not wait until you are the old stock, wondering where the love went.
The most effective leaders are not the ones who stay fashionable. They are the ones who become classic. A classic is not trendy. It outlasts trends. It may not turn heads on the runway, but decades later, it still fits. It still serves. It still commands respect.
If you govern only for your season of favour, you will be forgotten when the next collection arrives. But if you use that season to build something lasting, something true, something just, something that does not depend on your popularity, then you will not need to be new. You will need only to be right. And that never goes out of style.
So I ask you, the stock empya not to waste your window. Because as you might be learning people are fickle and time itself is unkind to hesitation. Every day you wait, the shine dulls. Every decision you postpone, the season shortens. You tell yourself there will be a better moment, when the political winds are more forgiving. But the winds are never more forgiving than right now, when you are still a promise rather than a record.
That is the cruel elegance of fashion; it rewards the bold and forgets the cautious. Designers who wait for perfect conditions never show a collection. Leaders who wait for perfect approval never make a difference.
Do not misunderstand me. I am not asking you to be reckless. I am asking you to be intentional. Use this season not to settle scores or accumulate wealth or build monuments to your own ego.
Use it to do the things that will be harder later; because later, when your novelty has worn thin, every move will be contested. Every hand you extend will be examined for hidden motives.
Now, while they still want to believe in you, is when you prove you deserve that belief.
The world has no shortage of leaders who were once shiny. What it lacks are leaders who, when the shine faded, left behind something that still stood. Be that rare kind. Be the classic in a world addicted to the new. The people may forget your arrival, but they will never forget what you built while you had their attention.
And that, is the only thing that outlasts the season.