Even before his death, Steve Jobs was Apple’s ethereal visionary. A motherboard luminary in Issey Miyake turtlenecks and futurist wire frames, until his death in 2011, Mr. Jobs was the face not just of his company but of America’s tech sector.
In contrast, Tim Cook, 65, who announced on Monday that he would be stepping down as Apple’s chief executive after nearly 15 years, was more the facilitator. As many tech critics have pointed out since his announcement, the critique about Apple today is that its best-selling products are riffs on ideas that Mr. Jobs had.
What Mr. Cook did, though, was lift Apple from a $350 billion company to a $4 trillion tech behemoth. He may have had the look of a suburban dentist in his navy polos and dark jeans, but he was a ruthless executor, closing deals with Chinese competitors, President Trump and Dr. Dre.
A deeply private person (Mr. Cook came out as gay in 2014, really his only major statement about his personal life), Mr. Cook became a recognizable figure, if understated. But in following a titanic figure like Mr. Jobs, it may have been prudent, necessary even, for Mr. Cook to present as a kind of blank slate. That sensibility seemed to suit the Alabama native who worked at Apple for over a decade before rising to chief executive.
That blankness was, in many ways, an asset once Mr. Cook took charge. As Apple’s remit swelled, it allowed him to maneuver deftly between vastly different scenarios — including when he presented President Trump with a plaque at the White House, attended the Oscars the year Apple’s “Coda” won Best Picture or showed up at Coachella.
That’s to say, like Mr. Jobs, Mr. Cook also had a uniform. He has long dressed in the prevailing sensibility of the ideas festival circuit: dark jeans, polos or collared shirts, but never ties (unless appearing before a congressional committee) and Zegna’s roughly $1,200 “Triple Stitch” slip-on sneakers. Based on how he looked, Mr. Cook could’ve been a real estate developer, a TV mogul, a retired governor or any business leader trying to keep his profile low and his stock price high.
If Apple under Mr. Jobs was an extension of his Merlin-like otherworldliness, Mr. Cook made its products prosaic, necessary to exist. His look was part of that. Mr. Cook played the square while courting cool. It worked. Under him, the company started a movie studio, fleshed out Apple Music and acquired Dr. Dre’s Beats, bringing the ubiquitous millennial accessory into the corporate fold.
You could see him next to Lana Del Rey in a zip sweater. Or sandwiched between Travis Scott and Mr. Beast, in a polo, slim jeans and an Apple Watch. He watched Justin Bieber at Coachella, dressed in a dark button-up, (once again) jeans and Nikes.
Nikes are perhaps Mr. Cook’s only hypey indulgence. He has been photographed in many different models, including a pair of custom, one-of-one Sashiko-like denim Nike Vomero Plus sneakers that he wore to the reopening of the Apple Ginza store in Tokyo, which Highsnobiety called “shockingly cool.” (Mr. Cook has sat on the Nike board since 2005.) When Mr. Cook went to the Super Bowl this year, he wore a leather bomber jacket, a rare style swerve for him. It was not one that he, thus far, has repeated.
Last year, Mr. Cook appeared on the cover of Variety, posing next to Lewis Hamilton, the F1 champion and producer of the movie “F1,” to talk up Apple’s movie endeavors. The photo shoot included a stylist credit for Mr. Cook, but, dressed in a tan Zegna jacket and Cucinelli jeans in the picture, he still looks, unmistakably, like Tim Cook. He may have been styled, but he was, as always, in control.
Jacob Gallagher is a Times reporter covering fashion and style.
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