For three days, recently, I found myself behind the wheel of an Aston Martin DB9. Nothing surprising in that, you might say. For if you have found your way to Hilditch & Key, you would expect similar standards of excellence from the car you drive. But what struck me on the road was, for all the 600 horsepower at my disposal, the most edifying moments were when I was in the lower gears, indeed almost stationary.

The car, which was lent to me so that I could thoroughly road test the engine and handling then, after a service, see how performance could be restored to as-new levels, arrived in what could loosely be described as an extended horsebox. Once the car was reversed out, I parked my new best friend and left her dormant so that passers by could admire - even photograph with their mobile phones - my albeit temporary asset. I was transformed from a fellow who strolls up the road every morning to buy the Racing Post to the man who drives an Aston Martin.

On the road* most potential admirers of the DB9 could only blink as I sped past. A friend's 40th birthday coincided with my custody of the car. So I took him on a spin around the local park as a treat. Neighbours' curtains couldn't twitch fast enough for them actually to catch a glimpse. But in heavier traffic on the motorway was when others could savour the sight. Even those who consider road jams a personal affront to free passage on highways and byways suspended momentarily their lane hopping tendencies to gain an incremental advantage. Instead they gazed longingly at my wheels. Indeed, the DB9 was responsible for what looked like, in the rear view mirror at least, a domestic situation. A lively looking female otherwise comfortable in an adjacent passenger seat gazed perhaps with too great a desire at my alternative means of transport for her male driver's ego.

Altogether, what did the experience say to me, an, if truthful, dilettante when it comes to cars (when travelling, I prefer to read)? Firstly, of course, that for all the flash of Italian roadsters, the British Aston Martin stands apart (you could say the same about H&K shirts compared to those from warmer climes). Also to bear in mind, it is not the speed of the Aston Martin that is most admired. Instead, as envious glances seemed inversely related to what the speedometer said, the craftsmanship and design of the car is clearly best appreciated up close, crawling along or even standing still.

When the horsebox returned after 72 hours to repatriate my DB9, the driver didn't really bother to conduct even a cursory inventory, or to check the body work for scratches. Aston Martins are rarely victim to any petty vandalism, I was assured. Why? Because they are cars that are universally admired and respected.

So much for cars. Much of what I learnt about them from behind the wheel is equally relevant to a gentleman's wardrobe. Those who dress fast and loose and speed through life are not the ones who will gain respect for their sense of style. Be sure to wear what you are confident can be subjected to close scrutiny when stationary.

Colin Cameron

* H&K item to wear while driving an Aston Martin; a silk cravat. Remember, this is the car of choice for James Bond.

Colin Cameron writes about lifestyle for a range of newspapers, including the Financial Times, and magazines. His next book, "You Bet", on the cultural, social and political impact of the explosion in Internet betting since 2000, will be published by Harper Collins in 2009.

Other articles by Joseph Connolly and Colin Cameron that may be of interest:
Black Tie, Gekko's on Wall Street, Hilditch & Key in Paris, London Shops,
The very best shirt in the world