Letter From The Editor: Who Thinks of These Things?
02/04/2003
What kind of wild imagination allowed Roger Vivier to think women would look great in stiletto heels when he designed the world’s first pair in 1954? His vision, unconstrained by concerns for pain and practicality, altered the presentation of the female pedal extremity forever, and his contribution is one for which many of us are eternally grateful.Similarly, cars like Lamborghini’s Miura or Bizzarrini’s GT Strada 5300 pose ergonomic challenges, while at the same time stimulating boundless visual excitement. In the universe of automotive couture, those stylists south of the Alps—most notably the Italians—have historically pushed the limits of reason, turning the oft ridiculous into the sublime. Unfettered by common sense and tradition, urged by willing clients or mere spontaneous speculation, the most revolutionary among them have influenced every other category of commercial design, fashion and entertainment with their wild offerings.
This Italian predilection for the unusual was at work long before the advent of internal combustion. The Renaissance, born in Italy then spreading northward, embraced novel approaches to traditional problems of architecture and design (among others), and if Leonardo had created an automobile, I suspect it would have not only bettered its contemporaries in its beauty and proportion, but would have vacuumed your carpet and pressed your shirts in the bargain.
Historians and enthusiasts who trace the evolution of the Italian automobile are familiar with the show cars and rare one-offs that represent the high-water marks of their respective eras. Best remembered for iconic shapes like the Alfa Romeo BATs, DeTomaso Mangusta or Lamborghini Countach, this same industry’s most forward-thinking projects were sometimes the least glamorous. The Iso bubble car, subsequently sold to BMW by its progenitor Renzo Rivolta, was a brilliant answer to Europe’s need for public and commercial transportation following the war. Tiny Abarth racers cut a svelte profile every bit as captivating as their V-12 brethren, and Fiat’s ubiquitous Topolino (“little mouse”) populates Italy’s roadscapes even today. The best Italian designers have tackled humble projects with the same verve as their illustrious show cars.
Contemporary design culture recognizes little in the way of national boundaries, and there is indeed some irony in the fact that, today, one nation’s automobile is rarely clothed in a body designed by one of its citizens. Americans, Dutch, Germans and Japanese have more of a hand in the look of modern Italian cars than the Italians themselves, a situation unthinkable in the golden age of the carrozzeria. Whether some identity is lost in this multi- cultural mélange is open to debate. Is the Miura more a Lamborghini than the Murciélago, whose stylist Luc Donckerwolcke is Belgian, was raised in Peru, and works, ultimately, for parent company Audi? In a world encumbered by political correctness and Benetton billboards, it’s probably out of fashion to suggest that the rush to globalize has compromised a process as personal as design. Certainly, it’s not impossible that the world’s best risotto could be made in a Chinese restaurant. But there’s something about the Italians—especially their designers—that lets them imagine the wildest things.