Izikhothane in the courtroom as wealthy accused dress to impress

Organised crime accused Vusimuzi “Cat” Matlala raised eyebrows at parliament’s ad hoc committee hearing at Pretoria’s Kgosi Mampuru prison this week — and not only for his testimony.

The awaiting-trial prisoner was dripping in luxury items, with only the ankle chains above his Burberry loafers giving a hint of his predicament.

Along with the Burberry footwear, he sported a Fendi logomania shirt and a Rolex Submariner Date watch.

While this outfit might be the norm at any fashion week front row or red carpet appearance, Matlala’s fashion choices are in contrast to the allegations against him of attempted murder and R500,000 payoffs to former police minister Bheki Cele.

He is not alone in dressing to impress when in the hot seat.

But while Thabo Bester’s co-accused Nandipha Magudumana was able to get a glow-up thanks to prison-based salons, there is no Diamond Walk available to convicts once they are jailed. All items worn in court appearances are made available by family, according to Abrie van der Merwe, who specialises in criminal law. He believes these fashion choices rarely affect the final ruling when the gavel hits.

“Magistrates and judges are still people, and the image you portray will still have an effect,” he says, noting that while accused people are often drawn to formal looks, this can lead to “overcorrecting” in the pursuit of being taken seriously.

Perhaps the most outlandish display of style gone wrong was by Nigerian preacher Timothy Omotoso. Facing charges of rape, sexual assault and human trafficking, he would pitch up at court in Gqeberha each day wearing an assortment of ruffles and garish gold brocade. He also enjoyed a gaudy military-style jacket, often clutching a Bible as his accessory.

Flashy displays like his rouse passionate public opinion, but Van der Merwe says they are permissible as long as it “isn’t vests, shorts and flip-flops”.

Even political personalities can make a statement in the dock. Duduzile Zuma-Sambudla, the daughter of former president Jacob Zuma, appeared in the Durban High Court in August on charges on inciting violence wearing a bold gold choker and a black T-shirt reading “Modern Day Terrorist.”

The trend of criminally accused dressing to impress is not limited to South Africa.

During her trial in the US in 2019, fake heiress Anna Sorokin’s attire was a carefully curated display of both high-end designer labels and mass-market brands, selected by a professional stylist to project a specific image.

Her wardrobe garnered significant media attention and was chronicled by a dedicated Instagram account. Among her outfits were labels such as Michael Kors, Miu Miu and Yves Saint Laurent.

But not all court appearances are limited to imported labels. Flamboyant traditional wear is also a popular option, as seen with former defence minister and speaker of parliament Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula, who has attended court for her corruption case in an assortment of headwraps and cheetah prints.

It may have been an attempt to emulate the statement Winnie Mandela made in her Xhosa regalia during her appearances at the Rivonia trial in the 1960s — a choice made in defiance of the court and what fashion writer and historian Khensani Mohlatlole sees as an existing dichotomy of South Africa’s relationship to the courtroom.

“This entire system of a courtroom, specifically trials, judges and so on, is an entirely Western imported idea,” says Mohlatlole, who sees Mandela’s choice of outfit as a revolutionary act.

“You [are supposed] to walk into these spaces looking as much like a white noble as possible,” she says, adding that African design often contrasts with what is viewed as appropriate in a formal setting.

Fashion curator and stylist Felipe Mazibuko believes a display of wealth can be a deflection from the crimes suspects are accused of. Those who know they are facing time behind bars dress to the nines to win public sympathy, while others make their perceived wealth and status a key focus over the serious charges they face.

When it comes to the love affair South Africans have with designer brands, specifically Italian houses, Mazibuko credits the historic journey they have had in South Africa. During apartheid-era sanctions, Italian clothing was the most accessible for those seeking quality garments, he says.

“The Italians have got very similar bodies to Africans, which is called the S-shape. It’s decades and decades of politically imposed fashion sensibility. Because of colonisation and apartheid, we became adaptive to that kind of style.”

The fascination with style options in court has made Mazibuko wary of the loss of focus on the case itself, concerned that the victims in some cases are forgotten as fashion choices are pored over.

“There are people affected by the money stolen or the equipment that went missing. We have to treat this with the utmost empathy,” says Mazibuko. “When you wear those flashy brands, what are you saying to those families and the victims? It says you used the money and you are now wearing Burberry and Fendi.”

While criminal cases have rarely been affected by designer clothes or the lack thereof, Van der Merwe says the biggest impact can be found in cases such as maintenance disputes, where a client might claim a lack of money but contradict this by how they dress.

“People move more towards the formal side, but it should always be within good taste.”