From Ian Fleming's "A View to a Kill"

(Of an imagined woman, from a Paris streetcorner cafe.)

Of course, the evening would be a disaster. Even supposing he found the girl in the next hour or so, the contents would certainly not stand up to the wrapping. On closer examination she would turn out to have heavy, dank, wide-pored skin of the bourgeois French. The blond hair under the rakish velvet beret would be brown at the roots and as coarse as piano wire. The peppermint breath would not conceal the midday garlic. The alluring figure would be intricately scaffolded with wire and rubber.

From Ian Fleming's "A View to a Kill"

© 1959 by Glidrose Productions Ltd.