On Wednesday, October 1, the Jane Goodall Institute confirmed that Goodall—renowned British primatologist, anthropologist, zoologist, and author—passed away peacefully in her sleep while on a work trip to California. She was 91 years old.
Two decades earlier, Alexandra Fuller had an opportunity to meet Goodall in Seattle to have a conversation about her upbringing in England, her groundbreaking research in Tanzania during her youth, and the extensive speaking engagements she maintained into her 70s—a calling Goodall often referred to as her life’s purpose. You can revisit that story from Vogue’s August 2005 issue right here.
In person, Dr. Jane Goodall, a Dame of the British Empire, embodies exactly what one would envision, yet even more so—an extraordinary experience given that so many notable figures are often only recognized through their photographs or screens. Her appearance is not one that strives to look decades younger (which she critiques as a display that feels “blank, vacuous, nothing inside”) but rather showcases a woman who is comfortably and frankly at ease in her (very good) skin. Her signature ponytail—a straightforward, almost impatient style—features her thick, silver hair pulled back into a practical clasp at the nape of her neck. Her unimpeded face reveals dark eyes set under mildly arched brows, distinguished cheekbones, an upturned nose (reflecting her egalitarian principles), and a small, firm jawline.
When I recently spoke with her, she was taking a brief pause at the home of her friend and colleague Gary McAvoy, located on the outskirts of Seattle. I had reached her amid a demanding tour across multiple states, spanning several months, and her voice—soft with an upper-middle-class English accent—was noticeably strained from delivering countless lectures. “I must save it for the audiences,” she noted apologetically, gesturing toward her throat. On that particular day, she donned a red wool turtleneck sweater, blue jeans, brown moccasins, and dark sunglasses to shield her eyes from the brilliant sunshine. Behind her, a windowsill adorned with blooming orchids framed a view of the vibrant Puget Sound, while McAvoy’s garden burst with the colors of spring. Goodall and McAvoy have recently collaborated on a book, Harvest for Hope (set to be published by Warner this fall), which emphasizes the critical choice of consuming responsibly cultivated food. McAvoy’s garden exemplifies a conscientious approach to land use, featuring native shrubs and young grafted apple trees, about which Goodall humorously teased him, “Oh, Gary, you didn’t mistreat those poor things, did you?”
In 1964, Jane Goodall was characterized by The New York Times as “fragile and blonde, with huge green eyes… she appears more suited for serving tea or tending to roses than traversing the wilderness.” Such notions she dismissed outright: “There is nothing fragile about me.” She claims to possess the constitution of “old boots.”
