Jeffrey Deaver: Carte Blanche

Jeffrey Deaver took on the task of writing the last James Bond continuation novel, released in 2011. Deaver specifies an updated wardrobe for Bond, with a little more detail than Fleming wrote:

“By seven fifteen he was dressed: a navy-blue Canali suit, a white sea island shirt and a burgundy Grenadine tie, the latter items from Turnbull & Asser. He donned black shoes, slip-ons; he never wore laces, except for combat footwear or when tradecraft required him to send silent messages to a fellow agent via prearranged looping.” (Chapter 6)

Deaver takes inspiration from both Fleming’s Bond and Connery’s Bond in dressing the character. The navy suit, sea island shirt and slip-on shoes are straight from Fleming, whilst the grenadine—though in a different colour—is a more refined choice taken from Connery’s Bond. Though the film Bond’s long relationship with Turnbull & Asser has also made it into the novel, Deaver made his own choice for the brand of Bond’s suit: Canali. Canali’s suits are well-made and have some Italian flare, but they are still fairly conservative suits. Though their suits no longer have the traditional Italian details of jetted pockets and a ventless skirt, they still have some of the strongest shoulders of any suits today.

Ian Fleming: The Property of a Lady (1963)

“It was, exceptionally, a hot day in early June. James Bond put down the dark gray chalk pencil that was the marker for the dockets routed to the Double-O Section and took off his coat. He didn’t bother to hang it over the back of his chair, let alone take the trouble to get up and drape the coat over the hanger Mary Goodnight had suspended, at her own cost (damn women!), behind the Office of Works’ green door of his connecting office. He dropped the coat on the floor. There was no reason to keep the coat immaculate, the creases tidy.”

This passage comes from Fleming’s short story “The Property of a Lady,” which was added to the Octopussy and The Living Daylights short story collection in 1967. It’s interesting to see that Bond didn’t always care for his clothes the way a well-dressed man ordinarily would. But since the weather was hot and the suit was lightweight, it was probably too wrinkled to wear again without a pressing anyway. Hopefully the floor was clean!

Ian Fleming: The Man with the Golden Gun (1965)

“Wearing his usual rig—dark-blue single-breasted suit, white shirt, thin black knitted silk tie, black casuals— but they all look brand-new. Raincoat bought yesterday from Burberry’s.” (Chapter 1)

“Bond then took off his clothes, put his gun and holster under a pillow, rang for the valet, and had his suit taken away to be pressed. By the time he had taken a hot shower followed by an ice-cold one and pulled on a fresh pair of sea island cotton underpants, the bourbon had arrived.” (Chapter 7)

“James Bond had a quick and small breakfast in his room, dressed, reluctantly because of the heat, in his dark blue suit, armed himself, and went for a walk round the property.” (Chapter 7)

Here’s one of the rare occasions when Bond’s clothing is mentioned by brand name. Sea island cotton underpants is a nice change from the nylon underclothes of some of the previous novels.

Ian Fleming: You Only Live Twice (1964)

“Bond’s face and hands were of a light brown tint, his black hair, brightly oiled, was cut and neatly combed in a short fringe that reached halfway down his forehead, and the outer corners of his eyebrows had been carefully shaved so that they now slanted upwards. He was dressed, like so many of the other travellers, in a white cotton shirt buttoned at the wrists and a cheap, knitted silk, black tie exactly centred with a rolled gold pin. His ready-made black trousers, held up by a cheap black plastic belt, were rather loose in the fork, because Japanese behinds are inclined to hang low, but the black plastic sandals and dark blue nylon socks were exactly the right size. A much-used overnight bag of Japan Air Lines was slung over his shoulder, and this contained a change of shirt, singlet, pants and socks, Shinsei cigarettes, and some cheap Japanese toilet articles. In his pockets were a comb, a cheap, used wallet containing some five thousand yen in small denomination notes, and a stout pocket knife which, by Japanese law, had a blade not more than two inches long.” (Chapter 9)

Bond is now Taro Todoroki. The black tie of kitted silk is the only part of this outfit that we generally associate with Bond’s wardrobe. According to Fleming, the rest is all characteristic of a Japanese traveller.

Ian Fleming: On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1963)

“Then he slipped on his dark-blue tropical worsted trousers, white sea-island cotton shirt, socks and black casual shoes (he abhorred shoe-laces).” (Chapter 2)

“Bond had equipped himself at Lillywhites with clothing he thought would be both appropriate and sensible. He had avoided the modern elasticized vorlage trousers and had chosen the more comfortable but old-fashioned type of ski-trouser in a smooth cloth. Above these he wore an aged black wind-cheater that he used for golf, over his usual white sea-island cotton shirt. He had wisely reinforced this outfit with long and ugly cotton and wool pants and vests. He had conspicuously brand-new ski-boots with powerful ankle-straps. He said, ‘Then I’d better take off my sweater.’” (Chapter 11)

“Then he had a quick shower, complicated by having to keep his dressings dry, changed out of his stinking ski clothes into the warmer of the two dark-blue suits he had brought with him, sat down at the writing-desk, and jotted down the headings of what he would have to put on the teleprinter to M. Then he put on his dark-blue raincoat and went down into the street and along to the Odeons Platz.” (Chapter 26)

Like in the film, Bond dresses as Sir Hilary Bray in the novel:

“‘You’ve fixed your laundry tags and so on?’ ‘Yes,’ said Bond dully. ‘I’ve fixed all that. And I’ve got two new suits with cuffs and double vents at the back and four buttons down the front. Also a gold watch and chain with the Bray seal. Quite the little baronet.’”
(Chapter 8)

The details listed would suggest that Bond’s regular suits do not have cuffs, double vents or four buttons down the front. Since Fleming was English, “cuffs” would most likely refer to turnback cuffs on the sleeves (which Fleming occasionally wore himself) rather than trousers’ turn-ups. Double vents on single-breasted jackets hadn’t yet become the standard for English tailoring, and even though Sean Connery had already worn double-vented suits in Dr. No a year earlier it probably was not to Fleming’s personal taste. At that time it was still more common for single-breasted jackets to have a single vent or no vent. 4-button fronts would come into fashion later in the decade, but at this time they may still have been seen as old-fashioned and were most appropriate for country suits. Bond’s usual suits probably have a 2-button front like Fleming’s did.

Ian Fleming: The Spy Who Loved Me (1962)

“James Bond glanced over his shoulder at them and then got down off his stool and took off his raincoat and hat and put them on top of his case and climbed back.” (Chapter 10)

“He wore a soft-looking white silk shirt with a thin black knitted tie that hung down loosely without a pin, and his single-breasted suit was made of some dark blue lightweight material that may have been alpaca.” (Chapter 10)

The Spy Who Loved Me is not written from Bond’s perspective, nor is Bond the main character in the novel. Here Fleming suggests that Bond may have worn a suit made of alpaca fibres, a material not commonly used for suits. Most often alpaca fibres are made into sweaters. Whilst it isn’t used much for suiting, alpaca makes up well in a sports coat.

Ian Fleming: Thunderball (1961) – Count Lippe

“He [Count Lippe] was an athletic-looking six foot, dressed in the sort of casually well-cut beige herring-bone tweed that suggests Anderson and Sheppard. He wore a white silk shirt and a dark red polka-dot tie, and the soft dark brown V-necked sweater looked like vicuna. Bond summed him up as a good-looking bastard who got all the women he wanted and probably lived on them—and lived well….
“All he learned—from the clothes—was that the Count was a much-traveled man—shirts from Charvet, ties from Tripler, Dior, and Hardy Amies, shoes from Peel, and raw-silk pajamas from Hong Kong. The dark red morocco suitcase from Mark Cross might have contained secrets, and Bond eyed the silk linings and toyed with the Count’s Wilkinson razor.” (Chapter 2)

In all the stories written about Bond, we never get this kind of detail about his clothes. Bond (and Fleming) appreciates the quality of Lippe’s clothing, but the clothes mark him as a man of little integrity in Bond’s eyes. It might be the case that the drape cut of Anderson Sheppard reminds Bond of the drape suits worn by the Duke of Windsor. Whilst the Duke of Windsor is well-known for his style, most of the English thought little of him.

Ian Fleming: Thunderball (1961)

“A scar down his right cheek showed pale against a tan so mild that he must have only recently come to the island. He was wearing a very dark blue lightweight single-breasted suit over a cream silk shirt and a black knitted silk tie. Despite the heat, he looked cool and clean, and his only concession to the tropics appeared to be the black saddle-stitched sandals on his bare feet.” (Chapter 11)

“Bond rolled his swimming trunks into a towel, put on a dark blue sea-island cotton shirt over his slacks, and slung Leiter’s Geiger counter over his shoulder. He glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked like any other tourist with a camera.” (Chapter 18)

And I thought the moccasins that Bond wore with his suit in Moonraker were already too casual for a suit. Here Bond takes casual footwear too far. More to come on Ian Fleming’s Thunderball next week.