Published in L'Officiel Hommes Italia No. 6

So far as we can see, a safari shirt is necessary…

         In the throes of exasperating heat and humidity, when one’s patience and spirit begin to wilt, a frantic search for relief ensues. The choice to remove one’s shirt entirely is a very unfortunate one, as it only serves as unsightly spectacle to passersby and instantly identifies one a boob. Thankfully, the safari jacket and shirt arrive with enough sartorial gusto to regalvanise your mettle. Also known as a bush jacket, it was an adaptation of the British colonial summer uniforms by civilians in the 1930s and functioned as a casual ‘odd’ jacket perfect for combating stifling weather. Yves St. Laurent revitalized it in the late 1960s. And today new collections from Kenzo, Trussardi 1911, Marc Jacobs, Ermenegildo Zegna and Salvatore Ferragamo are showing immediately recognizable yet new interpretations, while more abstract safari allusions are made by the likes of Viktor & Rolf, Bottega Veneta and Maison Martin Margiela.          

           Why safari? Its heavy military influence guarantees a poised, tailored look. The square bottom allows it to remain untucked, giving comfort and adding ventilation. The pockets are many providing both form and function. How can one decline? It possesses all the comforts of a Hawaiian shirt but evades the loud, sometimes distasteful designs inherent in its garish cousin, residing instead in understated elegance.    

          The finely constructed shirt pictured was purchased in Jodhpur, India. This short sleeve all cotton example exemplifies the selling points of a safari: a pointed yoke back, center back action pleat, a stitched belt on the back waistline, double vents, functional button epaulettes, two box-pleated patch pockets with button closure and a square bottom. The additional attractions include decorative plackets with buttons on each sleeve and an unusually high collar.             Indians have the cultural acumen to don said shirt. In fact, it is delightful how ubiquitous the safari shirt is as it goes on (ahem) safari thru the social bush. From the drivers of auto rickshaws, to glamorous pop stars, the safari shirt reigns absolute in India. Could its popularity be an example of the oppressed adopting a trapping of the oppressor and thus subverting its meaning? Perhaps, but the answer to that question lies far beyond the scope of this humble article.    

          Rather let us enter the theatre of reflection, contemplating past aficionados of safari garb. None other than Roger Moore’s James Bond was a devotee. In The Man with the Golden Gun he keeps his cool and his creases in the swampy Thai temps with the help of a classy safari suit. It’s no wonder that Bond is attracted to the garment: it carries a certain gravitas and marks the wearer as a worldly man of purpose and resolve. One J.R Ewing of Dallas notoriety was also a fan. He had a propensity to jauntily mate his safari jacket with a colorful neckerchief, the big flirt. The neutral beige color lends a fine canvas on which to paint a panoply of colors. And did the man wield power? Does the Pope wear a funny hat? J.R. was capitalism embodied, red in tooth and claw, yearning for dominance over women and annihilation of foes. Unequivocally, rouge gentleman J.R. is admitted to our club. And let us not forget the aforementioned Jonathan Quayle Higgins III, of Magnum P.I. fame, the curmudgeonly companion to the light-hearted Magnum. A military man by background, his buttoned-up aesthetic complemented his stentorian disposition. On the rare occasions he relaxed, his safari suit was readily employed. Higgins exemplified its first-rate sartorial attribute of tailored repose. Before one concludes that our card carrying safari association consists solely of fictional characters, let us take a final example: Ernest Hemingway. Need we enumerate the qualities of Ernest? The war fought, the animals hunted, the women bedded, the alcohol quaffed, the brawls, the simple majesty of his prose, the guns fired, including the final shot to his own cabeza. Hemingway outshines our aforementioned gentlemen by being the sole participant in actual safaris. The exoticism and quantity of the animals killed is slightly unsettling to the 21st century eye, but one cannot debate that he ever looked slovenly while engaged in the hunt. Papa Hemingway utilized not only its primary function but also understood its recreational value, continuing to wear the safari get up whilst putting pen to paper. 

           Yes, one could choose to forgo the safari jacket and shirt this summer, but why inflict easily avoided discomfort upon oneself? It is solace from the heat writ large. Its martial progenitors and colorful roster of enthusiasts serve one well as companions. For its laudable characteristics are intact: confident comportment, military bearing, an adventuring air, masculinity, swagger. From savannahs to concrete jungles, new Everests of sartorial zest are attained. ‘Nuff said.