living: autocade

Muscles in a suit

The new Audi TT is safe for men—stylish and more masculine than its predecessor, according to Jack Yan
photographed by Douglas Rimington
Expanded from issue 23 of Lucire

PHOTOGRAPHER Douglas Rimington said he would not consider getting into the Audi TT that I had been loaned if it had been the first-generation model. Therein lies the rub. The first-generation TT might have been a style icon of the 1990s, redefining what were acceptable proportions for a sports car, but it came as part of a wave that included the BMW Z3 and the Porsche Boxster.
   The Boxster was already thought of as a sub-911, a replacement for the 924 lineage that seemed either too feminine or too London-yuppie. The Z3 was the sort of car that men would drive in America, while other men in Camaros pulled up next to them and called out, ‘Faggot.’ To make it worse, Pierce Brosnan drove one in Goldeneye. A wimpy car for a wimpy Bond.
   We men are too sensitive about our sexuality. Most heterosexual men (well, OK, maybe a few of us) possess some degree of homophobia. Therefore, a car that defied the long hood-short deck idea that had been biologically programmed into us as resembling a phallic symbol would instantly earn an unfair moniker, regardless of its competence. And that was the TT. It was a polite sports car, able to dish out the power through a Golf platform, but ultimately it was a Golf in a party frock. It was the David Hyde Pierce of sports cars. Straight, but not butch.
   This fact, I am sure, was not lost on the Ingolstadt marketing department. After all, most of that business is male, including Walter da’Silva, Audi’s former design director who had pioneered the gaping-mouth grille (Lucire November 2004). Already, that would make the cars more male. But the proportions—the one thing that made homophobes cry out, ‘It’s gay’—needed changing without upsetting the sexuality-secure buyers who bought the original. The TT was an icon, the first sports car that showed that a curved roof need not belong on a Volkswagen Käfer. And you do not mess with icons. Plastic surgeons might try to make local women look more and more like Lorraine Downes with each visit, but Claudia Schiffer must always look like Claudia Schiffer.
   So, Audi made the new TT wider and longer, but no higher. The bulbous surfaces of the original were tautened. The design language is different, when you go close up and look at the profile of the new car. These are muscles underneath a Hugo Boss suit, and if we men cannot have a phallic-symbol car, we might as well have one that is muscular. The lights are trapezoidal, slanting into the grille. Down the back, where the greatest changes had taken place, the designers made the automotive rear end look less like a human rear end. The TT, in this incarnation, is a tougher machine, still recognizable as a TT, but no longer girly.
   The funny thing is, this appeals to women, too. As I said once on Good Morning, women buy cars like the Suzuki XL-7 because the wings, or fenders, look muscular, like pectoral muscles. (Men are drawn to long, slinky shapes that are curvy.) Audi has created a car that has the masculinity that complements a man, but which also draws women. It just so happens that it has used a far better platform and a powertrain that cry out a sporting message.
   We had the 3·2 quattro (Audi asks that it be spelt in lowercase). If it has a Golf platform, then we sure as heck didn’t recognize it. Built on the Audi aluminium space frame, it was brimming with high-tech features, including a magnetic damper system that uses particles inside the shock absorbers to make the suspension firmer.
   The gearbox can arouse most of us fellas. I had driven sequential ’boxes before: the TT’s flappy paddle change comes close to the Porsche 911’s. The changes are quick, and should have its rivals worried.
   The seats are comfortable: the adjustable lumbar support and the firm headrest keep the seats hard in the right places. I had no complaints about driving long distances in the TT: a point that more expensive sports cars had disappointed me on.
   It is not, however, a load-lugger. There is room for bags for a young couple to have a weekend away, but I had to unpack a grass trimmer for it to fit inside the boot. Not that a typical buyer would take the TT to Mitre 10. But this was a comprehensive road test, and it was my duty. (A minor niggle is opening the boot: when keyless, I do not expect to have to open the door to find the release.)
   There is one aspect of the TT that still suggests it is a car in a suit. The four-wheel-drive transmission keeps it firm on the ground, so while you can still make it turn a wheel in anger, it never loses composure. For those wanting to throw the back out for fun, think again. The grip comes from the power being applied to all wheels, and from traction control. Boy racers can look elsewhere, and that is good news.
   It has all those little details, like cufflinks. The TT logo on the fuel filler flap. The straight-bottom steering wheel (not quartic)—in fact, the steering wheel itself is an iconic piece of design.
   Most importantly, no man need worry about driving the second-generation Audi TT. Doug and I looked like two straight blokes in this motor. No nutter would wind down his window except to give the car an admiring glance—and many did. The good news is that the girls told us they liked this car. So, the pull factor is high. If you happened to be single. Maybe I should have lent it to Doug on a swimwear photo shoot. •

Photographed by Douglas Rimington