Doug Hayward, who died on Saturday aged 73, was one of the sartorial wizards to emerge in 1960s London; from his tailoring business at 95 Mount Street, Mayfair, he brought a new personality to the serious man's attire, instilling the traditional English style with a dash of Italian flair.

If the traditional English tailor – as exemplified by Savile Row – greeted its clientele with a certain stuffiness or pomposity, Hayward sought to break the mould. "There are no stags' heads coming through the walls, no pictures of the Queen Mum," he explained. "It's relaxed, nice and easy. And besides, I get a lot of birds in."

His shop – decorated with grey flannel on the walls and Italian marble floors – took on the character of a 1960s' salon. Hayward would receive clients seated in a wing chair, usually offering them a glass of champagne.

His clients became his friends (he refused to make suits for anyone he didn't like). They included Michael Caine, Terence Stamp, Peter Sellers, Tony Bennett, John Gielgud, Rex Harrison and Michael Parkinson. When Roger Moore played James Bond, his suits were by Doug Hayward; as were Clint Eastwood's in many of his films.

Many would simply drop in for a chat. The photographer Terry O'Neill once said: "They call Doug 'the Buddha of Mount Street'. You wouldn't believe the number of people who go to him for advice. He's probably the best-loved man in London." And Hayward himself recalled: "I suppose women talk to their hairdresser and men talk to their tailor. If you give them the chance all their worries will come flying out." He always remained, however, entirely discreet.

His clientele extended beyond the world of showbusiness. With little choice available for City men who wanted a new take on the traditional business suit, entrepreneurs such as Gordon White and James Hanson became customers. Aristocrats too came to the door. Patrick Lichfield – with whom Hayward ran a dining club, Burke's, in Mayfair – took him to Mustique because Princess Margaret found him such an amusing companion, particularly his renderings of songs by Cole Porter.

In later years Hayward provided a model for Harry Pendel, the principal character in John Le Carré's Tailor Of Panama. In the book's acknowledgments, Le Carré writes: "Doug Hayward of Mount Street allowed me my first misty glimpse of Harry Pendel." Hayward remarked at the time: "I'm flattered if I have helped with the book. David Cornwell [Le Carré's real name] took me out for a couple of lunches and he checked a lot of details about tailoring with me."

Douglas Frederick Cornelius Hayward was born on October 5 1934 at Kensington, and brought up at Hayes, Middlesex. His father, who cleaned the boilers at the BBC, was an eccentric character who painted the family's semi-detached house shocking pink and relaxed by creating topiary in the front garden.

Doug won a place at Southall Grammar School, but decided to leave at 15, with the ambition to find a white-collar job. "We didn't have a careers master," he later recalled, "but I found a booklet which listed possible occupations. I went down the list and when I got to T for tailor, I thought: 'I don't know any tailors. I can't ever be judged as being a bad or a good one, so I'll be a tailor.' "

Having failed to find a job in Savile Row because "I didn't have the right accent", he became apprenticed to a tailor at Shepherd's Bush. His first wife, Diana, was the sister of Melissa Stribling, who was married to the film director Basil Dearden, and through this connection the young Hayward established extensive contacts with many young, up-and-coming actors. They appreciated not just his sense of style; they also enjoyed his unstuffy personality, sense of humour and capacity for fun.

As he prospered Hayward took to driving his secondhand Mini up to the West End to attend to customers such as Richard Burton, ensconced at his suite in the Dorchester. Finally, in 1967, he set up at 95 Mount Street, where the business remains to this day.When Hayward started out, Mount Street still had something of the character of a village high street, with establishments such as an electrician and a baker. Yet it was only a stone's throw from Savile Row and bang in the middle of one of the smartest districts of the capital.

Hayward lived in a flat above his shop, and spent weekends at a house on Lord Hambleden's estate in Oxfordshire. But he remained proud of his Cockney roots; and every week until her death in 1984 he visited his mother, Winifred (who had worked in a bullet-making factory during the war), presenting her each time with a £1 note to pay for her meals-on-wheels.

When she died the family found this money preserved in 15 ice-cream boxes under her bed, along with a note reading: "This money is to get Doug out of prison when they finally get him." She did not believe that her son could earn so much money as a tailor, and assumed that he must have criminal connections.

Hayward, who himself liked to dress elegantly (he had a particular fondness for colourful tweeds), also sold hand-made shoes and his own line in watches and leather luggage. He lectured at the Royal College of Art on tailoring, placing particular emphasis on cutting. He used to say: "You can't do anything unless you can cut."

Doug Hayward's second wife was the writer Glenys Roberts. They married in 1970 (dissolved 1978) and had a daughter, Polly, who took over the tailoring business in 2006.