Every Friday, for eight months, people attending Jummah at one of four mosques in Tower Hamlets became familiar with the same sight: a man with a camera and a woman with a clipboard, chatting to men as they entered and left the mosque, as part of a special project.

Jummah, or Friday prayer, is a spiritual highlight of the week that brings the spectrum of Muslim communities together. And ever since it was established by the prophet Muhammad – who described Friday prayers as an “Eid” or celebration – there has been an idea of wearing your “Friday best”. What comprises this uniform is wide-ranging, from monochrome ankle-length Arab thobes to colourful south Asian kurtas, easy tracksuits to stylish blazers. The project set out to document the whole range, and forms the basis of a new exhibition in London’s Bethnal Green called Jummah Aesthetics: British Muslim Men and Their Sartorial Choices.

It was the idea of Dr Fatima Rajina, a sociologist based at the Stephen Lawrence Research Centre, and Rehan Jamil, a social documentary photographer from London. The 25 photographs were taken over the course of eight months, from February to October. They wanted to capture a demographic that Jamil argues “gets left behind when we’re talking about clothing”. Both he and Rajina were keen to shift the focus to men, since the spotlight has been almost exclusively on Muslim women’s fashion through the global phenomenon of modestwear.

The styles captured are eclectic. “Our communities cross so many cultures,” says Jamil, a born and bred East Ender who attends Friday prayers every week in the mosques where he chose to photograph. He describes Jummah at East London Mosque “like a mini Hajj every Friday”, as it attracts around 7,000 worshippers from all walks of life, in all styles of clothing. Jamil himself wears Nehru-collar shirts in the summer in a nod to his south Asian heritage, and Oliver Spencer wool polo tops in the winter. He pairs them with Nudie jeans made from recycled fibres, in a conscious effort to wear environmentally friendly clothing, as inspired by his faith to take care of the planet.

One of the men featured in the exhibition is Maruf, 33, who was dressed in a grey blazer and pristine white cotton thobe in his photograph. He is an imam of Bangladeshi heritage at Brick Lane Mosque and likes to wear white on Fridays as it is the purest colour. “It gives me a special feeling, and makes me feel happier,” he says. “It’s important for Muslims to dress their best for Jummah. We’re presenting ourselves before God, like people do before a king.”

The 22-year-old Sufi, who has half-Yemeni, half-Kenyan heritage, opted for a light coloured, smart-casual shirt and trousers from Uniqlo the day he was photographed. He likes to be comfortable, clean and presentable. “I keep it simple, humble and smart, as I’m in the house of Allah,” he says.

When it comes to wearing colour, Rajina noticed a generational gap: they found that the older men are far more comfortable in bright colours such as purple, green, pink or mustard, perhaps indicating a closer connection to their country of origin, since colourful clothing is an inherent part of the culture in places such as Bangladesh and west Africa. But many of the younger men spoke of how they would never wear bright colours, preferring grey, black, or navy – which Rajina observes is “more in line with British men’s fashion”.

For Meraaj, a 24-year-old entrepreneur of Sri Lankan heritage, he calls his vibe a “British Muslim look”. In the photo, Meraaj wears a traditional, black Moroccan thobe with a Gucci jacket and Nike trainers, saying it’s a mixture of comfort and cultures; a “new generation twist on the old fashion of thobes”. Thobes, while Arab in origin, are often adopted by non-Arab men as a practical, modest garment to pray in. It is a choice influenced by the prophet Muhammad, who himself wore one.

Also emulating the prophet’s attention to cleanliness and self-grooming, many of the men photographed prepare for Jummah by having a shower, clipping their nails, getting their hair trimmed and beards oiled. “I want to come in my best form,” says Meraaj. “It’s nice to show everyone I’m proud to be Muslim.”

Each picture tells a story, and for Rajina, many of the chapters are written into the details. She points to the picture of 41-year-old Musa, who works in Tower Hamlets, and has prayed at Brick Lane Mosque for the past six years. He is wearing a purple top from Sierra Leone in his photograph and, she says, “if you look closer, you’ll spot that he’s holding a tasbeeh [prayer beads] in one hand, and a mobile phone in the other, which signifies the age-old spirituality v modernity debate”. She points to another image of an “uncle”, Latif, a 70-year-old retired businessman, in a plain shalwar kameez, air-bubble trainers and a topi (cap) that he’s been wearing for more than 20 years, given to him by a friend. Look closer and you’ll notice the geometric embroidery adorning the front of the hat, which is particular to the Sindh province of Pakistan.

It was important for Jamil that he was photographing a community to which he belongs. “If we as a minority Muslim community in London don’t document our own lives, we can’t expect anyone else to do it for us,” he says. “From the point of view of a social documentary photographer, it is best when we can document our own communities.”

Rajina agrees. “One of my frustrations as an academic is that so much of the research is oversaturated with Muslim men in relation to radicalisation and the Prevent strategy, which you see in the dominant mainstream discourse too,” she says.

Her hope is for people to enjoy the images from a fashion and portrait – as well as sociological – perspective. “No one is looking at Muslim men from this lens.”

Jamil sees Jummah aesthetics as only gaining more ground. “Friday prayer, and dressing for it, is not something that is dying out,” he says. He envisages more conversation will be sparked, and hopes that traditional clothing will be worn beyond religious or ceremonial contexts to “normalise and destigmatise wearing traditional attire”.

“Traditional clothing carries so much history, meaning and artistry, and wearing it in everyday life is a powerful way to celebrate identity and heritage. Imagine walking through the streets of London and seeing a vibrant mix of agbadas, thobes, kilts, kurtas and more, all blending seamlessly with modern urban fashion,” Jamil adds.

“Fashion is such a great medium for storytelling, and this kind of visibility could foster mutual appreciation and understanding between different communities.”