Bond On Bond (22 page)
Authors: Roger Moore
Steward: ‘A fine selection, if I may say.’
Bond: ‘I’ll be the judge of that … The wine is quite excellent, although for such a grand meal I had rather expected a claret.’
Steward: ‘Of course. Unfortunately, our cellar’s rather poorly stocked with clarets.’
Bond: ‘Mouton Rothschild
is
a claret.’
They never learn, these ill-educated hoodlums, do they?
Of course, not all villains are ignorant about wine. Take my old adversary Francisco Scaramanga. He had a rather well-stocked wine cellar. When at dinner, Bond remarked on the wine, ‘Excellent – slightly reminiscent of a ’34 Mouton.’
Scaramanga replied, ‘Then I must add it to my cellar!’
Leaving claret aside, I myself prefer a chilled bottle of Sancerre nowadays, a wine I discovered a few years ago when a group of us hired a mini-van to explore the chateaux of the Loire Valley. There, I tasted the wonderful bone-dry, highly aromatic wine with its intense flavours of peaches and gooseberries. The reason we restrict our choice largely to white wines is because, unfortunately, my wife develops terrible migraines if she consumes any red wine or a Chardonnay. Personally, I think a headache is sometimes worthwhile.
Bond also smokes in the novels, his preference being Morland Specials with their three gold rings, of which he consumes three or more packs a day. He tries other brands on his travels, most notably Shinsei in
You Only Live Twice
. ‘He took a cigarette and lit it. It burned rapidly with something of the effect of a slow-burning firework … it was good and sharp on the lungs with ninety per cent proof spirits. He let the smoke out in a quiet hiss and smiled.’
It was Red Grant’s choice of wine that gave him away as a baddie in
From Russia With Love
. Red wine with fish? Honestly!
I didn’t smoke cigarettes in my Bond films, as Sean and George had before me, and indeed as Timothy did after me. I gave up cigarettes in 1971 when, just before commencing work on
The Persuaders!
, I, along with my producing partner Bob Baker and script editor Terry Nation, visited Tony Curtis in LA. Tony was head of the anti-smoking lobby (though strangely did not include cannabis in his campaign!) and when, at his home for a meeting, we all lit up, Tony showed me a book with a rather curious photo on the front. It was a cancerous lung. It put me off smoking cigarettes for life, though I must admit I did still smoke cigars into the 1980s.
In the bad old days, I smoked Davidoffs, though, contrary to popular myth, they were not supplied as part of my contract. I had to buy them.
Contrary to popular myth, it was not part of my Bond contract that I had to be supplied with cigars. Yes, I smoked them on set, but I bought my own – much to the delight of our assistant director Derek Cracknell. Whenever he saw me light up between takes, Derek would call, ‘Roger, they’re ready for you!’ and would offer to hold my cigar for me. Whenever I returned, saying they
weren’t
ready, I’d find Derek sitting in a chair puffing away on my Davidoff.
William Shakespeare wrote ‘clothes maketh the man’. If that was the case for the literary James Bond, then I think we’d be a little disappointed in ‘the man’, to be honest. Contrary to popular thinking, while Ian Fleming had an eye for Savile Row quality, he rarely shopped there, preferring instead the ‘off-Row’ prices of Benson, Perry and Whitley in Cork Street, just a couple of roads along from the Row. He’d have three suits made at a time, for the princely sum of 58 guineas each.
Sean at his Savile Row tailors, being outfitted for his Bond debut … and the finished result.
It was reported by Mr Whitley of said establishment that ‘Mr Fleming wore his suits until they were in threads’, and, ‘He dressed for comfort not for style’. This attitude clearly extended to his hero, as in the books Bond’s clothes don’t vary a great deal. His look was probably best described in Fleming’s last novel,
The Man With The Golden Gun
, where he described Jim’s ‘dark-blue single-breasted suit, white shirt, thin black knitted silk tie, black casuals’ as his ‘usual rig’.
Sean Connery cuts a fine figure in his Conduit Cut suit. His elegantly attired co-star Pedro Armendáriz was terminally ill during filming of
From Russia With Love
, though kept it a secret and completed the film in order to provide income for his family. He took his own life in hospital shortly afterwards.
In
Moonraker
Fleming had Bond wearing a ‘heavy white silk shirt, dark blue trousers of navy serge, dark blue socks and well polished moccasin shoes … put on a black knitted silk tie and his jacket …’ in readiness for an evening at Blades Club. It was sartorial simplicity.
That didn’t stop him noticing other people’s wardrobes, though. In the same novel Fleming wrote: ‘Bond concluded his inspection with Drax’s clothes, which were expensive and in excellent taste, a dark blue pinstripe in lightweight flannel, double-breasted with turn back cuffs, a heavy white silk shirt with a stiff collar, an unobtrusive tie with a small grey and white check, modest cufflinks, which looked like Cartier, and a plain gold Patek Phillippe watch with a black leather strap.’
Despite all of the descriptive detail Fleming wove into his adventures, Bond’s wardrobe was by and large indistinct. No shirt maker was ever mentioned; no tailor ever credited. One thing we did garner was he liked ‘single-breasted dinner jackets’ and a ‘heavy silk evening shirt’ when it was time to enjoy the ‘solid, studied comfort of card rooms and casinos’, but that’s about as much as Fleming ever enlightened us about his hero’s tastes in attire. The films are a very different case.
Hey, George! That’s how I got into movies.
Bond’s on-screen look is credited to Terence Young, the director of
Dr. No
. He brought in his own tailor, Anthony Sinclair of Conduit Street, and shirt maker Turnbull & Asser. Young wanted to achieve the look of a well-dressed man, but one who didn’t particularly stand out from the crowd. Sean was not particularly used to wearing suits, and in order for him to feel totally at ease when filming began, Young asked that he wear suits around the clock, even to the extent of sometimes sleeping in them.
Anthony Sinclair created the classic, pared-down look of Connery’s suits that came to be known as the ‘Conduit Cut’. They were lightweight, one hundred per cent wool in navy blue, shades of grey and a subtle Glen Urquhart check. They were slim-line, single-breasted, two-button outfits. The Conduit Cut featured in all of Sean’s early films, and changed only when Peter Hunt brought in his tailor, Dimi Major of Fulham, for
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service
. Peter Hunt and his costume designer Marjory Cornelius came up with a rather timeless three-piece suit for the London scenes, featuring wider lapels and pocket flaps, and more fashionable brighter styles for the overseas settings. It was a marked departure. Bond was now outfitted from a much wider-styled wardrobe, and that gave the feeling of a slightly more casual 007 for the late sixties.
This was one outfit I did not try to steal after production.
When I stepped into the role, I suggested that my long-time tailor, Cyril Castle (of Mayfair), with whom I had worked on
The Saint
and
The Persuaders!
, would give Jim a more contemporary look for the 1970s. Lots of modern colours, sports jackets and trousers became the new norm. The designs were fashionable, yet also elegant and comfortable. So much so that when Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr were in London they called to say they thought my clothes in
The Man With The Golden Gun
were very sharp – especially my dinner suits – then took themselves up to Cyril for new outfits.
After
The Spy Who Loved Me
I had, very reluctantly, left the UK due to the 87 per cent income-tax rate imposed by the then Labour government. Cubby also moved out and declared the next Bond film,
Moonraker
, would be shot in France. Initially, I based myself in Italy, at the family holiday home in Castiglione, and, in preparing for the next Bond film, realized it would be impossible for me to travel back and forward to London for wardrobe fittings. So I suggested to Cubby we could use my Italian tailor, Angelo Litricio. In the month of August it was a joy driving to Rome for fittings – the only sounds I heard on the two-hour journey were burglar alarms. Everyone was on holiday except the thieves!
