THERE are wardrobe staples and sartorial icons. The safari jacket sits above all: a garment colossus that is hugely evocative, ultimately practical and still the stuff of high fashion. In all likelihood it is what Henry Morton Stanley was wearing to utter his immortal words to Dr Livingstone. It was certainly appropriate garb for Victorian adventurers, much used alongside snarling beasts and rifles to illustrate the dust jackets on tales of derring-do. And no lesser person than the hero of the siege of Mafeking (now Mafikeng), Lieutenant-General Lord Baden-Powell, chose a distinctly safari-meets-military uniform for his boy scouts before it found its way into our own wardrobes via high-street chains.
The safari jacket style may now be ubiquitous but its origins mean it retains an aura of excitement. It is synonymous with Africa, the mystique of the big game hunter striding forth with rifle in hand that is so brilliantly portrayed by Clark. The trailer describes this 1953 Technicolor extravaganza as an “unforgettable adventure in untamed Africa”, and the wardrobe department knew what was expected of them: they went to Huntsman of Savile Row for the safari clothing. Gable and Grace Kelly enjoy a passionate and dialogue-free clinch in front of a waterfall, twinning wonderfully in their safari jackets. Even Ava Gardner is occasionally released from the usual fitted and off-the-shoulder numbers to roll up her sleeves in safari style. Whether you are staring into the distance, seducing a screen siren, lighting a cigarette or facing down a charging lion there is, apparently, really only one thing to wear.
