Carlo Ancelotti carries himself with the effortless confidence of a man who has spent three decades showing he has nothing left to prove.  | Photo Credit: REUTERS

The World Cup has always been a tournament of competing football philosophies. Possession versus transition. Pressing versus patience. Youth versus experience.

This summer, it has also become an unexpectedly compelling contest to determine the best-dressed man on the touchline.

For decades, football managers dressed as though they were preparing for a rainstorm. The great touchline figures of old often looked like men who had been called away from home at short notice. Somewhere along the way, however, the managerial wardrobe evolved.

At this World Cup, the technical area has often resembled the front row of a fashion show in Milan, Paris or New York.

No coach embodies that transformation better than Carlo Ancelotti. Brazil’s manager carries himself with the effortless confidence of a man who has spent three decades showing he has nothing left to prove. The silver hair, Christopher Cloos St. Barth glasses, a perfectly cut dark navy CBF (Brazilian Football Confederation)-branded blazer, a crisp white dress shirt and a dark tie in Brazil’s tournament opener in New York set him apart on the touchline.

Ancelotti’s greatest strength has always been his calm demeanour. Players trust him because he rarely appears rattled, and his wardrobe follows the same principle. While others pace, protest and wave their arms, Ancelotti often stands with his hands in his pockets, looking as though he has wandered onto the pitch during a leisurely evening stroll in Milan.

If Ancelotti represents old-world elegance, Argentina’s Lionel Scaloni belongs to a different generation altogether. The World Cup-winning coach dresses with the understated confidence of someone who understands modern fashion. There are no flashy watches or dramatic statements, but everything is fitted, clean and deliberate. He manages one of football’s most emotionally charged nations, yet often appears remarkably composed amid the chaos. He looks less like a football coach and more like the creative director of a boutique design firm in Buenos Aires.

Didier Deschamps’ wardrobe feels unmistakably French. Watching him patrol the touchline is a reminder that France produces luxury fashion houses as naturally as it produces footballers. In France’s tournament opener at MetLife Stadium, he wore his signature custom navy-blue Francesco Smalto suit paired with a light blue shirt and no tie.

If Ancelotti is Milan, Deschamps is Paris.

Portugal’s Roberto Martínez occupies a different corner of the style spectrum. He often appears as though he has just stepped out of a leadership seminar where he was discussing innovation and organisational culture. His sharply tailored Sacoor Brothers suits, complete with pocket squares, complement his persona as football’s great communicator, capable of discussing tactics with the detail of an academic and the enthusiasm of a motivational speaker.

Switzerland’s Murat Yakin may be one of the tournament’s most underrated style performers. Clean monochrome combinations, structured jackets and oversized optical glasses from Gotti Switzerland give him the appearance of a European businessman.

Japan’s Hajime Moriyasu belongs to another era of style. No manager wears a suit with greater sincerity. While others chase trends and experiment with contemporary tailoring, Moriyasu remains loyal to the belief that a World Cup match deserves a proper jacket and tie. His classic deep navy-blue windowpane-patterned three-piece suit with a double-breasted vest, along with his iconic white notebook, dubbed the “Death Note” by fans, makes him a fashion icon in the dugout.

Not everyone, however, has embraced football’s touchline fashion revolution.

England manager Thomas Tuchel’s wardrobe consists largely of practical jackets, quarter-zips and training gear. Marcelo Bielsa, too, dresses with complete indifference to how he appears. While others arrive looking prepared for magazine covers, Uruguay’s coach still resembles a professor who has accidentally wandered into a World Cup.

One notable absentee from this sartorial tournament is Pep Guardiola. Few coaches have done more to modernise the touchline wardrobe, replacing the traditional manager’s suit with designer knitwear, fitted jackets and cashmere that probably cost more than the entire budget of some national federations. Guardiola helped create the modern image of the elite coach: part tactician, part cultural figure. Having recently stepped away from Manchester City, he is absent from North America, though few would bet against seeing him with a national team by the next World Cup. If he does, the choice for best-dressed coach may become considerably easier.

Published on Jun 24, 2026