The small car
conquered the world.

The red 1964 Mini Cooper S with its contrasting black roof is a pure sixties design. Small, punchy, and completely boxy. By the time this model came along, the Mini wasn't just a clever bit of packing by Issigonis — it was a fashion statement. You’d see them zipped through the London streets, driven by mods, actors, and racers alike.

I remember sitting in the local café, wearing a sharp mustard knit polo and watching these cars fly past. You could park them on a sixpence, and they handled like nothing else on the road — just like a go-kart. When you leaned on that thin front wing, it felt light but incredibly well thought out.

The sixties were all about mod tailoring and A-road manners. Everything was changing, and the cars were leading the charge. Clean lines, chrome details, and a feeling that we were finally moving fast.

They say Enzo Ferrari called the E-Type the most beautiful car ever made, and standing next to one you don't argue. This is the early roadster — the long, long bonnet, the wire wheels, the little headlamps under glass before the rules made them tidy it up. In the Sixties it was the car every lad pinned up and every man promised himself. I've leaned on a few in my time, always carefully, always with a cloth between my arm and the paint. The thing people forget is how usable it was — it'd do the ton all day and still take you to the seaside. Leaning on one now, arms folded, I'm sixteen again for a minute. Some cars do that to you. This is the one that does it to me.