Would you have any Grey Poupon?
And you don’t have to be rich to be a snob, either. The middle class is rife with snobbery of various kinds.
When the rich do it, it’s “snobbery.” When the middle class does it, it’s called “having standards.”
That was a spot-on review of Flemming’s writing, and this characteristic wasn’t self-conscious at all. Flemming really thought it was important for his reader to know just how expensive Bond’s clothing and accessories were, as if that would make him more of a spy.
I love this quote. I never heard it before; it kind of hits the nail ion the head for me.
Please. The turds of my minions hardly meet the proper, superior quality and consistency of my own. Only the finest turds to light on fire will do. sniff
Or the dogs with bees in their mouths and when they bark they shoot bees at you.
True. A lot people have wondered if Fleming was slyly making fun of Bond’s snobbery. Bond was essentially an early yuppie - he favored things with expensive labels rather than genuine quality. Of course that might not have been intended as a joke - it might have been a reflection of Fleming’s real tastes.
Didn’t you say upthread that you would has opulence if you were wealthy? If you know the difference between quality and expensive labels, wouldn’t that indicate you would handle wealth well? Now I’m just confused.
That’s an interesting consideration. If this is true, then Fleming was pretty adept at injecting Bond’s adolescent weltanschauung across the board, such as with the narrator’s description of women, which are presumably Bond’s perception of them. They do come across as almost comical today, but that was a long time ago–a lot like Madmen.
But items of genuine quality are seldom inexpensive.
Yeah, there are people who make LOTS of money, but have expenses to match.
I know lawyers and doctors who make tons of money but have these uber expensive lifestyles (and wives) so in essence they are still living paycheck to paycheck.
I have read one writer who said that Fleming was catering to his audience. Britain took a long time to recover from the war. Food rationing did not completely end until 1954. To Fleming’s readers, the fancy clothes, fast cars, and gourmet meals were as lurid a fantasy as the promiscuous women.
I’ve said it before… If I won a lot of money in the lottery (say, over $100 million after taxes), I would buy a Tuxedo with tails, a top hat and a monocle. Just for giggles. Show up late for the Monday night game store session, adopt a faux british snobby accent and make fun of the peasants and their quaint little pencil and paper game. 
Then instead of people calling me strange, wierd, an ‘asshole’ or whatever, I would officially be ‘eccentric’. I think that would be nice.