Joan Collins: the day I said no to James Bond
Ian Fleming was a species almost extinct today - an aspirational writer. Men wanted to be James Bond, and women wanted to be the glamour-puss that James Bond would be attracted to. Nowadays, we seem to be spurning the very thought of being smooth, suave and sophisticated, and seem to prefer the dull reality of T-shirts and Doc Marten's. You can see the decay of aspiration from the Promenade des Anglais to the Sunset Strip: shirtless louts and mini-skirted slags drunk and vociferous, behaving badly because they know no better and have no one to look up to.
That's from a three-screen article. Go read. I howled over her description of Las Vegas tourists.
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