During the mid-1980s, an intoxicated Mick Jagger phoned Charlie Watts hotel room in the middle of the night asking “Where’s my drummer?”. Watts reportedly got up, shaved, dressed in a suit, put on a tie and freshly shined shoes, descended the stairs, and punched Jagger in the face, saying: “Don’t ever call me your drummer again. You’re my fucking singer!”
Charlie Watts, you absolute legend.
While Mick Jagger was prancing around in tights and Keith Richards was dressing like a homeless guy, drummer Watts began patronizing the finest English tailors on Savile Row, notably Huntsman and Henry Poole. Watts suits are quiet, somber, elegant.
“I always felt totally out of place with the Stones,” says Watts “not as a person, but the way I looked.”