My Newest Favourite Thing: The E-Type Jag

"The most beautiful car ever made" - Enzo Ferrari

"I want that car and I want it now!" - Frank Sinatra

"Every car that came before and every one that has happened since is irrelevant." - James Elliott, Classic & Sports Car

When I was fifteen, I visited my dad at his work place. He was doing very important things at the forefront of computing. He had a to-do pad on his desk and, while he was out of his office making coffee (or, more likely, finding someone to make it for us), I wrote on it 'Buy Daughter an E-Type Jag'. He said nothing about it and I presumed he hadn't seen it, or just tossed it in the bin, but he came home from work the next week with a Matchbox Jaguar E-Type, which remains one of my most treasured possessions.

Matchbox E-Type Jags

When I got married, I added one to the wedding present list, and I received a beautiful model of a silver Series 3 coupe. It was exquisite, right down to the gleaming spokes of the wheels. Clearly, we were getting closer. Him Outdoors arranged one as our wedding car, and we had one booked, but the week before, the owner phoned us to tell us that it had failed its MOT and couldn't be on the road. He offered us an Austin Healey as a replacement. As if. Him Outdoors had had one job. (As it turned out, we got a launch which ferried us up and down The Thames while we had a bottle of champagne and crossed the county border in style, so all was marvellous.)

The Jaguar E-Type is a British sports car that was manufactured by Jaguar Cars Ltd between 1961 and 1975. Launched at the Geneva show in March 1961, it was designed by former aeronautics engineer, Malcolm Sayer, who had previously worked for the Bristol Aeroplane Company during World War II. It was fast: 150 mph top speed and 0-60 mph in under seven seconds, and it had a range of features that made it exceptional. 

• Unitary construction: a method of fabricating vehicles where the body, floor pan and chasis are built on one unit, resulting in high performance torsional rigidity
• All-steel monocoque, which offers high fuel efficiency due to low weight: the whole structure is an outer shell (monocoque meaning 'single shell' in French) which provides better space efficiency and crash protection
• Disc brakes: the E-Type had them on all wheels, at a time when few mass-produced cars did
• Rack and pinion steering 
• Front and rear suspension: double wishbones at the front, wishbones and twin coil/ damper units at the rear

Okay, so maybe I looked most of that up (although I did know it was fast for the time), because if I'm honest, I'm not all that interested in the specific features. What thrills me is the looks. This is simply the most spectacular thing on wheels. I'm far from alone in thinking so. In March 2008, the Jaguar E-Type ranked first in the Daily Telegraph list on the world's 100 most beautiful cars of all time. That may be the only time I agree with that paper. 

The New York City Museum of Modern Art has six cars in its permanent design collection, and the Jaguar E-Type is one of them. The others are a Cicistalia 202GT, Jeep, Smartcar, Volkswagen Beetle and F1 Racing Car (Ferrari 641), which may have historical and cultural significance, but they haven't got equivalent style. In 2018 James Elliott wrote in Classic & Sports Car, "The Jaguar E-type is the most commonly desired car in the world. Period. Even car-haters swoon in its presence and, if you ever want to be taken seriously as a classic car dealer, you must have one on your forecourt."

It's hard to argue with that design and those vital statistics: length of 14ft, 8in; counterbalanced by width of 5ft, 5in. It looks as though it was designed by a human to appeal to our artistic and aesthetic instincts, rather than by a computer to appeal to power-to-weight ratios and wind-tunnel performance. It was both. There were 72,500 of all types built and, according to Elliott, "the E-type is the barometer of the entire classic car market and has been since day one."

Finally keeping a promise and completing his job (seventeen years on; who says we have to keep nagging - things will be accomplished eventually), for my birthday last year, Him Outdoors hired one for the day. It was amazing, and a little bit terrifying. I was overwhelmed by my dreams coming true, and by the slightly erratic nature of the beast. 

By modern standards of power steering, the directional motion is tough. The bonnet is so long that you sometimes have to nudge out of a side-road before you can actually see what's coming. There are no wing mirrors and the view from the rear mirror is limited.The engine wants to let rip - this really is a powerful cat - and it can be strenuous to control that surge. She has modern tyres that grip the road (apparently not as thrilling to racing drivers who enjoy the thrill of high-speed cornering on tiptoe), but if you're not going quickly enough around a corner, she will wander a fraction to try and hint who's boss. She can smell fear. 

Bearing all that in mind, I took a couple of turns around the carpark, and was content to let Him Outdoors do the lion's share of the driving. I took the photos (we were in Cambridgeshire; a land of thatched houses, village greens and picturesque pubs) and watched the people watching us. We had been told that people would make way for us and let us into traffic. They did. We had been told that people would smile and wave as everyone loves an E-Type Jag (only the Jensen Interceptor receives a fraction of the interest according to the bloke who rented it to us). They did. 

We had been told that people would want to stop and talk to us about the car. They did. We had stopped at the roadside because I wanted to take picture of the car against the ploughed fields and the sunset. A chap pulled up alongside us and asked if we needed any help. He said that he used to own an E-Type and, seeing one stopped at the side of the road brought back memories of his multiple breakdowns. We had a chat and he could barely take his eyes off her. I don't blame him.

In an article for GQ entitled, The A-Z of the Jaguar E-Type: a 1960s icon that's never out of style, Marc McLaren wrote that the E-Type was "as integral a part of the Swinging Sixties as Mary Quant miniskirts and Mod suits". It's also timeless. In 2017 an E-Type Zero was used as a wedding car by Prince Harry and the new Duchess of Sussex - what've they got that we haven't...? It's an electric version of a 1968 Series 1.5 Jaguar E-Type Roadster. Buyers could either provide their own donor vehicle for conversion or let Jaguar Classic source a donor car to be rebuilt - the BYO price was quoted as GBP60,000.

It would be a shame to lose that engine, but it's more environmentally conscious, although development was halted in November 2019, and no further explanation appears to be forthcoming. Meanwhile, she sounds sensational; that cat-like purr is content for now, but it contains a suggestion of power, just waiting to be unleashed. I am utterly smitten. 

"If it's not an E-type Jag; it's just a car." - Me

Friday Five: Red and White

A couple of years ago I mentioned my love of red and white as a colour combination. Leaving aside the fact that red and white grapes make up champagne, there are still at least five reasons why those colours look brilliant together:

5 Great Red and White combos:

1. Christmas - from stripy candy canes to the great jolly present-giver himself
2. England - the red rose of the House of Lancaster merged with the white rose of the House of York to form the Tudor rose and the emblem of England
3. Liverpool FC - need I say more?
4. Strawberries and cream - one of the best and simplest food presentations ever
5. Barbers' poles - curiously hypnotic

Looks good on E-types too

Quick Quintet:Possible Dreams

When I was a child and I couldn't sleep, I tried to think of my favourite dream and wish myself into it. I think they used to feature fluffy kittens and the like. My neice once came downstairs in tears after bedtime because "I can't find a dream with me in it", so I am not alone.

I still do a similar sort of thing - not always when I am trying to sleep; some of them are just my favourite daydreams. Of course there are things we all want (well, maybe not all, but they're pretty common): a cure for cancer, and an end to global poverty being pretty high on the wish list.

But no matter what John Lennon may have you believe, world peace is simply too hard to imagine. I have to be able to visualise these things in my head to make them valid fantasies. And I'm not talking bedroom stuff here - these are all pretty clean.

5 Favourite Daydreams:

1. Crossing the ball for the winning Liverpool goal in the Champions League final. I never score the goal, but I always set it up with a sublime cross that Stevie G blasts into the back of the net. I often re-enact this cross in my sleep - Him Outdoors has the bruises to prove it. The crowd goes wild and I celebrate by leaping up and down inanely with all my teammates (who include Robbie Fowler, Steve McManaman, Kevin Keegan, Alan Hansen, Jason McAteer, John Barnes, Bruce Grobbelar, Michael Owen and Ian Rush)
2. Winning an Oscar - although it is for a stage performance, the setting is all Oscar. My speech is perfect - not too short; not too long; remarkably gracious and un-tongue-tied
3. Driving with Him Outdoors through Cotswold lanes in an E-type Jag convertible. It is British racing green with the luggage strapped to the back. I am looking effortlessly chic in a chiffon scarf and stylish sunglasses and somehow I know we are going to one of those boutique hotels in the country where we will drink gin and tonic on the verandah before sitting down to dinner
4. Some race or other: I'm running really fast down the finishing chute and everyone is cheering and waving flags. I actually imagine this often when I am out on a training run
5. Seeing my book on the shelves of a bookshop. I know what the cover will look like

Quick Quintet: Brand Power

I don't remember exactly when it was that everyone became obsessed with labels - sometime in the 80s I think, when it was all Lacoste this and Adidas that. I do remember if you didn't have the right trainers or sports bag, you were ridiculed at school.

Him Outdoors had a non-authentic action man when he was a kid. Apparently he had a squishy head and his hands fell off (the non-action man that is, not Him Outdoors). No one would let him play, somewhat unsurprisingly.

Now, I'm not what anyone would call a slave to fashion, but there are certain things that just have to be right; when imitations simply won't suffice.

5 Non-Negotiable Brands:

1. Persil automatic - possibly mum's fault; I like the familiar smell, and I seem to get a rash from just about anything else
2. McVities - no one else's digestives will do. And don't even get me started on Hobnobs...
3. Jaguar - E-type in particular: if it's not a Jaguar; it's just a car
4. Bombay Sapphire gin and Schwepps tonic - it's the perfect combination
5. Waterstones/ Unity Books - I will travel miles for knowledgable service

Style Icons

Two of my favourite style icons are celebrating their golden jubilee this year: both the E-type Jag and Dr Marten’s Boots are 50.

When the E-type was first released in 1961, Enzo Ferrari called it ‘the most beautiful car ever made’ – praise indeed, especially when coming from your competition! In 2004 Sports Car International ranked it top sports car of the 1960s, and in 2008 the Daily Telegraph placed it at number one in the list of the ‘100 most beautiful cars of all time’.

It really is sex on wheels. Although it was the first production car designed on aircraft principles, apparently it’s far from perfect technically. It has all sorts of mechanical faults (the gear-box always caused problems), but it looks so good... Maybe it’s the thrusting bonnet – the thought of the power beneath that sleek, shiny body – or the aesthetically pleasing sculpted curves. Well named, it’s like taut muscle waiting to pounce and race away – alternatively growling and purring.

When I was younger it was the only car I recognised – if it wasn’t an e-type; it was just a car – and I used to add it to my father’s to-do list when he wasn’t looking. Unfortunately, he never took the hint and always neglected to tick that one off. My mum did buy me one for my sixteenth birthday (British racing green convertible and everything), but it was only four inches long.

I asked for an e-type on my wedding and I got one! That was ten inches long – I’m progressing. We had one booked to take us to the wedding and from the church to the reception (although I was warned that some brides found that disembarking from the vehicle could be slightly indecorous in their wedding dress) but it failed its MOT the day before – we ended up traversing the Thames in a launch, which was terribly romantic. I feel perhaps I am destined to admire and drool from a distance.

Dr Martens boots on the other hand, were very much more attainable. I wore them everywhere through the 80s and early 90s. I had a black pair, a brown pair and a cherry red pair. I wore them with polka-dot leggings and a baggy fisherman’s jumper; I wore them with short tartan skirts and thick black tights; I wore them with floral Laura Ashley dresses; I wore them with jeans and Pogues t-shirts... I walked around town in them; I walked down country lanes in them; I stomped at gigs and raves in them; I went on holiday in them; I slept through lectures in them; I worked my first jobs in them... I loved them.

Then I saw them with pretty patterns – hippy flowers and fake animal print. They had heels and Mary Jane straps. They were wrong. Doctor Martens were the footwear of rebellion – they were worn by postmen, factory workers, union reps, outcasts and protestors – they told their own story and it was one of tribes – punks; indies; rebels. They were ‘anti-fashion defined in eight holes’.

I know that times move on and youth is vapid and vacuous, leaping on fads and disposing of them (much as we used to do, but they do it much faster), but I feel their image has been diluted. The high-heeled shiny pink shoe is shocking in more ways than one – it is an abomination. It’s a far cry from Alexei Sayle on The Young Ones. We’ve come a long way, but I’m not sure it’s a good thing.