James Bond girls dressed to kill

Celia Walden tries on the clothes that 007 charmed his ladies out of for The Telegraph.

Ask a man which is his all-time favourite Bond Girl outfit, and he will look as though you have asked him to recite Pythagoras's theorem in Gaelic. He may have committed to memory every fleshy curve, every beauty spot and every inch of thigh – but with the possible exception of Ursula Andress's bikini, the precise details of the garments 007's paramours were spilling out of has been forgotten.

Ask a woman, however, and you'll unleash strong opinions of a more sophisticated kind: Britt Ekland's geometric prints have gained a new retro status, and Jane Seymour's ethnic maxi-dresses reproduced time and time again on the catwalks. Eva Green's gowns in Casino Royale took sexy to new, vampiric levels, while Moneypenny's prohibitive style – those chaste twinsets, pussy-bow blouses and all that they hide – has remained a cult look for nearly half a century, since the very first James Bond film, Dr No, was released in 1962.

And that confidence has been underwritten by some of the more recent wardrobe choices. It was no longer enough for a dress to be backless, strapless, slashed down to the navel and up to somewhere south of the upper-thigh. Instead, producers used military uniforms (Famke Janssen's Xenia Onatopp) and PVC catsuits (Michelle Yeoh's Wai Lin) to bring the girls into the 21st century.

"The Bond films seem to be taking a tougher edge, which may be continued through the Bond Girls' costume," says Katherine Williams, popular culture specialist at Christie's. "However, they are sure to always remain feminine and alluring."

Williams adds that an increased use of top designers (Eva Green's wardrobe in Casino Royale was created by Roberto Cavalli, and Gemma Arterton's for the forthcoming Quantum of Solace by Prada and Jasper Conran) will not necessarily be reflected in the outfits' future value. "Ursula Andress's iconic white bikini sold for £41,125 at auction, but we will be offering a black leather skirt made for Halle Berry in Die Another Day at an estimate of £1,500-£2,000 at our Bond Memorabilia sale this December."

All this, despite that fact that Andress's bikini is rumoured to have been made on set by an unknown. The reason, insists Williams, is all about the enduring power of one image. "The vision of Ursula Andress emerging from the sea in Dr No has come to epitomise the image of the ultimate Bond Girl," she says. "It's comparable in its impact to that of Marilyn Monroe's 'subway sequence' eight years earlier in The Seven Year Itch, and instantly secured for Andress screen immortality and international fame."

Others, however, go for a more subtle look. "To me, Britt Ekland's strappy Seventies numbers were the most stylish of all," says TV stylist Hannah Sandling, author of The Lazy Goddess. "For men, Bond films are about the cars and the gadgets, but we women just sit there drooling over the outfits. The point about those dresses is that they are often like second skins, but also used as weaponry, designed to make men, and Bond in particular, drop their guard."

Although vintage Bond Girl costumes are spread across the world, with a great percentage stored in MGM's archives, a handful (including the dress worn by Teri Hatcher as Paris Carver in Tomorrow Never Dies and the corseted gown Famke Janssen wore as Onatopp from GoldenEye) have found their way to Angels Fancy Dress in London's Shaftesbury Avenue. "Because these girls have become feminist icons, it would be great to be able to wear one of the dresses on a night out and flex your girl-power muscles before a load of men," laughs Sandling.

Speaking of which, Angels did give me the chance to try them out – and yes, dressing as a real Bond Girl did make me feel enjoyably wicked. But sadly, with estimated values of £1,500 and upwards, the dresses are not available for hire – and even if I could wear them out the town, they would run the same risk of invisibility that any excessively sexy garment holds in the eyes of men. Indeed, Jeremy Langmead, the editor of Esquire, who is throwing a Bond-themed party tomorrow night, refuses point-blank to enter into any fashion talk. "The whole point of Bond Girls was that they wore nothing: all they got to wear was 007. The occasional girl lucked out and got a lick of gold paint or a deadly snake to protect her modesty – but that tended to come at a price."

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