The yardstick of James Bond’s suavely murderous upper-class style was forever set by Sean Connery.

It’s a footnote to a footnote, the tale of how, with the assistance of hair and makeup and a progressive London tailor, Sean Connery zeroed in on what came to stand as the enduring sartorial standard for spies.

Yet the story is worth reprising because while the many front page obituaries for the star made a point of detailing the breadth of his accomplishments over a career spanning decades, no one can argue that his most indelible role wasn’t 007.

What is less often noted is how Mr. Connery’s Bond image, like most everything concerning the most stylized spy in history, was as meticulously assembled as his Walther PPK.

According to legend, Mr. Connery got the part after being spotted playing the implacable cad Count Vronsky in a 1961 BBC adaptation of “Anna Karenina.” It was less his handsome face, with its deeply grooved cheeks and the bushy eyebrows he deployed like sardonic brackets, that landed him the role than his feline way of moving.

And, like every human who ever gave thought to the performative nature of dressing, he grabbed hold of the props provided to him — a midnight blue Conduit Cut dinner jacket worn over a flat-front Turnbull & Asser shirt; a brown Sandow Trilby from Lock & Co; the polo shirts and suits in varied subtle tones of gray; even the infamous baby blue “Goldfinger’’ terry cloth onesie — and owned them.