When I saw the Art Deco Ship’s bar come out of the container truck, my first thought was of Bond, James Bond. In my mind’s eye, I could see James Bond, maneuvering through a luxury liner’s crowded, smoky casino. Bond, sleek and polished, quaffed, beyond handsome and of course wearing a perfect tuxedo. Bond’s eyes suddenly lock on an exquisite red haired, buxom woman nearby and her eyes lock on him. She nods and raises her glass to him. He nods back and smiles seductively. He looks back to the bartender standing behind an incredibly lacqured walnut art deco bar with chrome trim and glass top. It is as sleek and polished as he is. He orders.
A dry martini,” he said. “One. In a deep champagne goblet.”
“Oui, monsieur”, replies the bartender.
“Just a moment,” he glances back to the voluptuous red head who stares back at him intently; her lips wet. “Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon-peel. Got it?”
(Casino Royale (1953), chapter 7, by Ian Fleming.)
As Bond makes his way over to his awaiting beauty, he looks back over his shoulder at the bar and thinks. “Love the bar. Make a mental note to talk to the Captain about buying it; would be great for the London office.”
Ok, so I have an imagination!