If Richard Dunhill didn't exist, his company would probably invent him. No casting agency could have selected a man so perfectly tailored for his role as Chairman of the Board. With his aristocratic head of silver hair, sculptured grey beard and urbane manner, he looks like an elder statesman; he epitomizes the qualities which his firm represents, and to which its customers devoutly aspire: elegance, refinement and class.

Mr. Dunhill bears a striking resemblance to his grandfather Alfred who founded the firm, even to the pipe he puffs. While we talk in his London office, the tobacco which he mixes for himself from 16 exotic blends perfumes the stately room with a sweet yet masculine aroma that suggest after-dinner port taken in the library. Such is his air of understatement that even his solid gold laticed watchband seems to peer discreetly from inside the immaculately stitched sleeve of his classic grey suit.

The man whom staff called "Mr. Richard" has an avuncular twinkle in his eye but wisps of gentle mockey curl about the office along with the smoke . Richard Dunhill's style displays nothing so blatant as charisma, and his well-bred distance owes more to reticence than remoteness. Finesse restrains him from claiming any personal credit for the company's achievements. He recoils visibly when confronted with personal questions and ascribes the firm's success to team effort.