The Unsung Heroes of Automotive Design Houses

The Mini wasn’t created to be fashionable. It was created because Britain needed something tiny, economical and clever after the Suez fuel crisis. Alec Issigonis simply turned the engine sideways, pushed the wheels to the corners, and made a car that was far roomier than it had any right to be.

Then Swinging London got hold of it, and suddenly this clever little economy car was being driven by Beatles, actors and fashion people witIf Pininfarina was elegance and Touring was sophistication, Zagato was the slightly odd creative genius in the corner sketching things nobody else would dare pitch.

The company developed a reputation for lightweight, aerodynamic bodies, often featuring the famous “double bubble” roof. That detail wasn’t originally there for styling drama – Zagato simply needed extra helmet room for racing drivers without making the cars taller overall.

Most companies would have quietly solved the problem and moved on.

Zagato turned it into an entire aesthetic.

The firm’s work with Alfa Romeo produced some wonderfully strange machinery, but perhaps the best-known collaboration remains the Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato. Ironically, it wasn’t universally loved when new. Some Aston buyers thought it looked too Italian, which is a wonderfully British complaint if you think about it.

Then there’s the Alfa Romeo SZ from the late 1980s – nicknamed Il Mostro (“the monster”) because even Alfa enthusiasts weren’t entirely sure what they were looking at. Sharp-edged, heavy-set and aggressively unconventional, it looked less like a sports car and more like a concept sketch that escaped into production by mistake.

Which, for Zagato, is practically a mission statement.

Touring Superleggera specialised in the sort of restrained elegance that makes modern car design look slightly overdressed.

The Milanese company’s “Superleggera” construction method used lightweight aluminium panels stretched over a tubular frame – advanced stuff in the 1930s and ’40s, although less amusing when corrosion arrived later for a quiet word.

Still, Touring’s sense of proportion was extraordinary.

The Aston Martin DB5, Maserati 3500 GT, and Lamborghini 350 GT all came from Touring, and they share the same understated confidence. Long bonnets, delicate detailing, clean surfacing. None of them feel like they’re trying too hard.

The DB5 is perhaps the best example. Bond gadgets aside, the actual shape is remarkably restrained. No oversized grille, no fake vents, no aerodynamic features resembling bits of IKEA shelving. Just a beautifully balanced GT car.

Quite refreshing nowadays, really.

Touring also bodied the curious Lamborghini Flying Star II, a kind of high-performance shooting brake concept from the 1960s that looked faintly like a jet-age estate car for someone who owned a vineyard and several silk scarves.

Pininfarina rarely shouted for attention because it didn’t need to.

While other studios experimented with increasingly dramatic shapes, Pininfarina simply kept producing elegant cars with such consistency that people almost started taking the company for granted.

Its relationship with Ferrari became so close that many assumed Pininfarina was effectively Ferrari’s in-house styling department. Cars like the 250 GT Lusso, 365 GTB/4 Daytona, and Testarossa all carried that unmistakable balance and simplicity.

Even when Ferrari went slightly mad in the 1980s, Pininfarina still managed to make the madness look tasteful.

But some of the company’s most charming work appeared away from exotic machinery. The Peugeot 406 Coupé remains one of the prettiest affordable coupes ever made, somehow turning a sensible French saloon into something that looked perfectly at home outside a Riviera hotel.

And then there’s the Austin A40 Farina, proof that Pininfarina could even make a compact British hatchback look stylish. No small achievement given the era.

Some design houses specialised in elegance. Others specialised in making absolutely sure nobody ignored the car.

Ghia excelled at this.

The company produced everything from the elegant Volkswagen Karmann-Ghia to the gloriously chaotic De Tomaso Pantera, which combined Italian styling with a Ford V8 and a cabin that occasionally felt assembled during a lively domestic disagreement.

Elvis Presley famously shot his Pantera after it refused to start, which tells you almost everything you need to know about 1970s Italian exotica.

Then there was Vignale, a coachbuilder responsible for some wonderfully flamboyant Ferraris and Maseratis during the 1950s and ’60s. Wealthy customers could commission unique or semi-unique bodies, resulting in one-off specials that now appear at concours events looking faintly unreal.

It’s difficult to imagine modern manufacturers allowing that sort of thing now. Today you’re lucky if they let you choose the interior stitching colour without signing three forms.