When I think of classic car shows, I tend to imagine a village green with a Wolseley Hornet nestled alongside a Ford Escort RS Turbo, the faint smell of fried onions and gentle shake of charity buckets filling the air. Which is why I was totally unprepared when I was told I was going to Villa d'Este, one of the world's foremost Concours d'Elegance.
Not known for my sartorial elegance, I realised the gravity of the situation when my boss looked at me steely-eyed and, through gritted teeth, insisted that 'smart' wasn't quite good enough; I had to be 'funeral smart'. Whether it was a friendly piece of advice or a thinly veiled threat to my life I wasn't quite sure, but, sensing the collective gaze of the office fall on my Ice Ice Baby t-shirt and sunflower-patterned denim shorts, decided that a trip to the charity shop was in order.
On arrival at Lake Como, now suited and booted, I have to confess that I still didn't quite know what to expect. I'd been briefed about the glass of champagne that was thrust into my hand after stepping out of the 7-Series limousine, and the limited edition Rolls-Royce Wraith that was sitting on the lawn (the event is sponsored by BMW after all). But I was still in the dark about the proper cars at the event.
I had to wait until the next day before I got a real glimpse of the action, and I have to say I was utterly blown away. I was anticipating some pretty nice kit: the location, a holiday destination so expensive and timeless it doesn't turn up in travel agents' brochures, was proof enough of that. What came as a surprise was that almost every car I looked at was unique – or near as dammit.
