STEPHEN BAYLEY
have a friend who’s a fashion designer. She said to me recently: ‘I’ve just bought a new car!’ I cocked my head, looked politely curious and asked her what it was. Triumphant, her reply came: ‘It’s black!’ This, I think, was a mischievous raspberry to my expert, if futile, connoisseurship of the automobile, my train-spottery fascination with detail, my snobbery about brands and name-plates. (I once explained to her, circa 1990, that it would be technically impossible to have a fling with
