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Design
Classics on the Road
Yet
Another Obsession
There's
a fine line between aesthetic obsession and unvarnished consumerism,
and I'm not always sure which side I've fallen on. Last spring,
my design instincts and consumer impulses overlapped in a MINI Cooper
S mania that resulted in my buying the car and then driving it from
Houston to San Diego to Seattle and back. Since I'm not one of nature's
diminutive waifs, it probably struck my friends as a little bizarre
that I was fixated on the smallest car on the road. In this case,
though, the MINI turned out to be perfect. My only regret is that
I haven't been able to put more chrome on the dash boad.
Now,
I'm in the grip of an exasperating dual obsession. A week or two
ago, a little voice started asking: "If you could do your six-week
road trip in a MINI last summer, why can't you do it on a Vespa
this time?" In case you don't know, the Vespa is an Italian
motor scooter. Think Roman
Holiday. Think Quadrophenia.
What could be more intriguing than a large man on a small scooter,
buzzing into the sunset? Well, a few things, but when I'm stuck
on one of these schemes, it's difficult to remember that.
How
did it happen? For the last year or more, Laurie and I have been
systematically ejecting the faux Victorian, faux Empire suburbanite
decoration of our house in favor of something that suits us better:
retro modern (albeit without the usual fifties nostalgia). Let's
call it modern with an international bent. Something akin to moderne.
If that means nothing to you, count yourself lucky. Anyway, I've
always liked Le
Corbusier's furniture, but Laurie doesn't. After a lot of back
and forth, though, we discoverd that we both like Mies van der Rohe's
Barcelona
Chair -- in spite of the fact that, in some people's minds,
it is so ubiquitous that it's now a cliche.
While
I was researching the Barcelona Chair, I came across the Wikipedia
list of design
classics, which includes the chair along with another favorite
of mine, the Citroën
DS. As
far as I know, the DS is the only car to be written up by a famous
structuralist, Roland Barthes. I've always loved the look of these
cars, but it never occured to me until recently that I might need
one. If
it weren't for the blasted Internet and its warrens of obscure expertise,
perhaps it never would have. But I found myself reading all about
the car, and then checking motor listings to see what a reasonably
well-preserved one might cost. I have a hard enough time keeping
a modern car in working order, so when I shared my DS idea with
Laurie, she looked at me like I was insane. I probably am. I've
been subscribed to a DS discussion list for a week or so, reading
about other people's extensive restoration projects, telling myself
that with a wrench and a little wire, I could probably do the same
thing.
As
if that's not bad enough, the Vespa thing comes along. I was flipping
through a book on 20th century design to see if it had any information
about the DS, when I saw the little scooter staring back at me.
Oh, yeah, the voice in my head remarked, you need one
of those, too. What
I need is my head examined. Over-engineered, rare, French cars and
zippy Italian scooters are not the proper domain of sedentary thirtysomething
bookworms. Then again, the voice says, the same thing
was true of the MINI, and that turned out all right....
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