John Simister
Modern cars cannot possibly be beautiful. Or can they?
When I follow a new Land Rover Discovery in something small, low and old like my Stiletto, I sense its driver has no idea I’m there. I have a great view of its asymmetrical rear end (an aftermarket tailgate with the number plate in the middle is now available), but the only view the Disco’ driver will have of me will be in the reversing camera.
One can feel ever more nervous in a classic car as the cars with which it shares the road get ever vaster, but that’s not the point I want to make. It’s one of beauty, of making the roads attractive.
The Discovery, the Range Rover, the Range Rover Sport, the Range Rover Evoque and its slightly longer near-clone the Land Rover Discovery Sport, plus the Range Rover Velar, all share visual genes. If you see just one of them, it’s not always obvious which one it is especially if it’s some distance away. But the Velar, the newest mutation of the genes and the one intended to have a touch of the sporting coupé about it, has won an award for being the world’s most beautiful car.
The organisation responsible for this is World Car of the Year, which has judges from all over the globe who inevitably have widely diverse tastes. That makes a WCOTY award, be it for design, like the Velar, or for the best luxury/green/ urban/performance/etc car, meaningless.
Rudeness and ruination
So, some pundits think the Velar is the most beautiful car in the world, currently. How has that happened? Well, all the Land Rover products mentioned above have a taut neatness of line. They don’t suffer from today’s design clichés of giant fake brake-cooling ducts, slanty-horizontal tail lights and curvy flanks that look as though formed from Play-doh (have you seen the new Ford Focus? Oh dear). They make tall cars with truck-like dimensions seem appealingly sportive, the Velar most of all thanks to the racier rake of its front and rear screens and its tapering side glasswork. It’s like a newer Evoque, but bigger. In isolation, it is indeed a good-looking thing.
But beauty can be about context, too, about enhancing surroundings rather than fighting with them. Big SUVS fail here, because of the rudeness of their size, the knowledge that they contribute to the ruination of road surfaces, the fact they cause hold-ups when one can’t squeeze past another.
Simplicity and purity
Context, scale, friendliness. These are three things everyone, not just an enthusiast, likes about classic cars. They have wheels of sensible size. They fit in parking spaces and their extremities are visible when parking. They stay on their own side of the central line unless they are overtaking. They have slim roof pillars so people can see the occupants enjoying themselves.
And the good ones are styled to make you smile or feel warm in some other way, rather than to shock or nauseate. Their simpler, purer shapes and uncluttered detailing are easier to commit to memory. Can you honestly distinguish the latest BMW 5-series from the last one in your mind’s eye?
It’s true that legislation hampers the proportions and delicacy of modern cars, but they are just not very nice to look at. Most classic cars are, and were similarly thought of when new. Here are random examples of old cars whose shapes made you feel good: Vauxhall Victor FD, Aston Martin DB4, Jaguar XJ6 Series 1. Jaguar E-type Series 1, obviously, and BMW 3.0 CSI. VW Golf GTI MKI, Peugeot 205 GTI 1.9. Ford Escort Twin-cam or RS1600. Mini-cooper MKI. Alfa Romeo Duetto and Alfasud Sprint 1.3. Citroën DS and Peugeot 406 Coupé. Mazda MX-5 MKI and Lotus Elan. You get the idea.
All were distinctive. None could be confused with anything else. All had designers whose names we can remember, all made the roads more attractive. Could it be that today’s designers are simply running out of new styling ideas?