Review: Madcap England velvet breed jacket

In which G.M. Norton unleashes his 1960s dandy.

When I was five years old, I was interviewed by the local newspaper (goodness knows why). One of the questions posed to me was the old favourite, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”. My response was that a career in the police force beckoned. Possibly influenced by a plastic toy policeman that was strewn across my bedroom floor, while his motorcycle lay on its side, wheels spinning.

As the years passed by, my career aspirations have changed somewhat. 

Big head strikes again

In which G.M. Norton insists that he's a wallflower really.

Over the years, my silly face has appeared on billboards, the back end of buses, and in the lost and found section of the local newspaper. Now though, the matter has really got out of hand.

Sauntering to the office one morning and what should I be greeted with? Well, I'm going to tell you. A ten foot banner of your favourite protagonist, draped over the town hall. 

Saul Bass: credit where credit is due

In which G.M. Norton admires the iconic work of Saul Bass.

As I've mentioned many times before, I'm an enormous Alfred Hitchcock nut. There's just something about his films that keep my attention, resulting in me watching them again and again. The 39 Steps, The Lady Vanishes, Rebecca, Rear Window - they're all absolutely marvellous.

Hitchcock's three films from 1958 to 1960 stand out in particular, which is a combination of the director's signature style added to the haunting film scores by Bernard Herrmann and the film title sequences by Saul Bass that sets the scene for each story so well.

A graphic designer by trade, Saul Bass wisely used his skills for films across four decades, beginning in 1955 with The Man with the Golden Arm, through to the 1995 crime caper, Casino.

Vertigo (1958)

Saul Bass first collaborated with Hitchcock on the haunting Vertigo with James Stewart and Kim Novak in the leading roles. The opening title sequence begins with an intense close-up shot of Kim Novak's eyes, with the audience left to wonder just what is making her pupils dilate so much as Herrmann's film score adds to the feeling of uneasiness. Things don't ease up as it ends with Hitchcock's name spiralling out of Novak's eye.

North by Northwest (1959)

I've previously lauded North by Northwest, starring the fellow idolised by millions, Mr Cary Grant. This is probably my favourite Bass title sequence out of the three Hitchcock films. The green screen is overlaid by blue wireframes set at an angle as different credits quickly race across the screen. Eventually, the wireframe slowly fades and is replaced by the side of a New York office building, and the hustle and bustle of city workers below.

Psycho (1960)

Then there's Psycho. Set to an intense film score by Herrmann, doing a sterling job yet again, the opening sequence features a series of horizontal lines choppily moving across the screen. It all adds an air of high anxiety, setting the tone for what was to follow. I'm on edge just thinking about it.

Saul Bass was a true pioneer, changing the way films were introduced so that the title sequence conveyed the mood of the story that was about to unfold. Clever stuff.

G.M. Norton

Protagonist of 'Norton of Morton'

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Vintage Smiths watch

In which G.M. Norton feels ready to take on the world. 

I recently managed to purloin a vintage Smiths Deluxe watch. Made in England at their Cheltenham factory, Smiths watches have a truly fascinating history. Edmund Hillary wore a Smiths Deluxe (the A404) when he climbed Mount Everest in 1953. And when Vivian Fuchs and Edmund Hillary successfully led the Trans-Antarctic Expedition across Antarctica in 1958, the entire team also had Smiths Deluxe watches strapped to their wrists (the A454). 

My vintage Smiths watch is the A460, which replaced the A454 (although they are identical in every way, except that the A460 is shock-proofed).