The Great Indian Safari

There was a time, when men’s fashion was in the hands of the likes of Vaste Tailors or Sangam Tailors. The moneyed ones went to Elite Tailors, making sure to pronounce it as A-light. The little more moneyed ones probably relied on a stray Akbarallys or outfits made using Raymond or Khatau Mills! What a bush-shirt is I know not, but it seems everyone wore it. Your financial status would drive whether it was a short-sleeved one or you had money to spend on the extra cloth for a long-sleeved. The second fashion statement mostly came from the breast pocket – some liked a flat bottomed, some liked a conical bottomed. Some liked two – one to keep money and the other to keep cigarettes. Some even had a small section to keep a pen! The third fashion statement was the Safari suit!

There was a time, when a six year old was condoned for not knowing the gender based clothing rules. Yours truly had taken some fancy to his sister’s red velvet sandals that she bought for our aunt’s wedding. “I want the same chappals for the wedding”, I demanded of my mother. A slight nod of hers may have been accompanied by a lot of worry and a hope that I grow up fine! With all the excitement of wedding shopping, my (maternal) uncle had slightly different plans. He chose a cloth for my cousin and I and we were to wear the safari suits for the wedding reception - a shiny brown color to match my fair skin and brown hair and a creamy color for my cousin. The velvet chappals were soon forgotten. The suits were stitched and ready for the wedding. Did I look handsome? You bet! The suit was largely forgotten after that dazed evening.

Why Indian men wore safari suits is a big enigma to me. And why the safari suit was such vogue is an even bigger enigma. The four pockets on the front of a loose fitting shirt looked funny. The pleats on the pockets and sometimes on the back were considered decorative. (Note, decorative, not fashionable!) The pant color always matched the shirt color – no innovation left for the fashionable ones. Safari suit was an indicator that I may have little more money than you may. Safari suits were a trademark of the Indian babus. In fact, two of my relatives, who were the modest government servants, made it a point to wear the suits every so often. And a few others who worked for the private companies also chose to wear safari suits on special occasions. But I don’t recollect wearing my lone safari suit again. It must have shrunk staying in our Godrej cupboard or I may have grown up! It must have eventually made its way to the clothes-to-utensils-exchanger.

Thank god that the suit has fallen off the radar of the modern metrosexuals. After all, will your average Elite Tailors compete with the barrage of the Park Avenues and the Arrows and the Van Huesens?