As Eliot Spitzer’s term as governor kicks off, the political realities will emerge in time. But the Albany soothsayers need not spend too much time with their crystal balls. Judging by his manner of dress, Mr. Spitzer is highly likely to stick to his campaign promises and — come what may — do whatever it was he said he was going to do. The reason lies mainly in his shirts: The governor is a tabcollar man.

Tab-collar shirts have two tiny pieces of fabric that snap together at the collar underneath the tie; this keeps the tie and collar securely in place. The collars are the ultimate in precision. They suggest an extreme attention to detail. And they haven’t been popular since the 1960s.

“It’s unusual. Nobody wears them,” a freelance fashion journalist, Robert Bryan, said. “It kind of epitomized an uptight person who was not free. There is no way to loosen that tie.”

Tab collars also require that the knot of a tie be quite small. This precludes anything remotely fashionable, such as the Four-in-Hand knot or even a Full-Windsor. These wide knots require at least a spread collar, which allows the tie to lie flat against the shirt. Mr. Spitzer’s small and tight knots, by contrast, are pushed up and out a bit from the chest. The tab collar raises the tie up and can make it curve.

In his choice of ties, Mr. Spitzer exhibits just a dollop more flair than the typical politician. In photographs, he’s more often wearing a striped or patterned tie than a solid color.

But in his suits, our esteemed governor has all the panache of a first-term congressman from a suburb of a one-horse town. Shapeless and baggy, his suits are unaccountably loose on his athletic, thin (to the point of gaunt) frame. If you’ve got it, flaunt it with a suit that flatters.

On the subject of suiting, Mr. Spitzer might take a cue from Mayor Bloomberg. Of course, the Natty Billionaire look — complete with slip-on tassel loafers — isn’t appropriate for this governor. But Mr. Bloomberg’s well-tailored suits lend his compact shape some elegance.

This country’s leadership could certainly benefit from some sartorial standardsetting. But American men — especially those in the public eye — are rarely disposed to creating such a stir. One American exception has been Warren Christopher, President Clinton’s secretary of state — not a publicly elected position — who wore high starched collars with a sense of dignity. But most politicians can’t afford to look too concerned with what’s in the mirror.

“They think it’s feminine to have a suit that’s too fitted,” Mr. Bryan said. “Also, people have this thing about comfort. And yes, it’s comfortable to wear a sack of potatoes.”

Which is pretty much how Mr. Spitzer’s suits look on him. But to his credit, there could be a deliberate reason. The antidapper appearance set him apart visually from the Wall Street types he was chasing as attorney general. Though there is photographic evidence of Mr. Spitzer in a pin-striped suit during that period of his career, his overall appearance has beenabout as far from finance-industry finery as a guy can get.

What’s more, if the governor has presidential aspirations, he has the right method of maintaining fitness. Running is one of the few activities that unites pols across the political spectrum. And he’s not Clintonian about it. Such a straight arrow is our new head of state that yesterday — which, in case you forgot, was New Year’s Day — he organized a 5:30 a.m. run before his inauguration. At an hour when most reasonable people are just heading home from celebrating the new year, the governor was jogging — with reporters in tow.

And so, behold the man: precise, detailed, unconcerned with style, and willing to be unpopular. It’s not what you want in a party guest, but it works in public office.

Still, Mr. Spitzer’s campaign slogan “Day One Everything Changes” might have even more relevance if it also extends to his tailor.