There’s something about autumn that puts me in the mood for old-school luxury. Maybe it’s the need to cosy up and get all hygge, or maybe it’s the classic palette of October with the bronzes, ochres and deep russet hues. Everything seems to slow down and settle in. In car terms, it’s goodbye convertible sports cars, and hello more solid grand tourers for colder, wetter weather.
It’s the season, therefore, for a grand Aston Martin DB12, but this time with an “S” badge. Someone joked at the launch of this car that the “S” now stood for “standard” rather than “sport” – because as soon as you make an Aston sportier, everyone wants that version, making it the new normal.
We don’t mind much about the extra 20 horsepower or whatever it is: we just love the beauty of the design and the joy of catching sight of the mists and mellow fruitfulness from the window of a beautifully crafted British car.
And what a beauty an Aston still is. It really has the power to turn heads like no other high-performance car can: Lamborghinis and Ferraris elicit sneers and jealousy, whereas people quietly admire an Aston. Essentially, this still seems to boil down to Brits still revering anything driven by James Bond. The cars are just so classically elegant in their proportions: a century of carving lithe aerodynamic shapes out of lumps of metal has resulted in everything and nothing changing about the aesthetics of Aston Martin. You can trace the grand-tourer DNA of these creatures through the sporty wide mouths of the grilles, the unapologetically long bonnets and the famous green paint, up and over the low roof line, to the rounded rump and flicked-up tail with its stretched rear lights streaking towards the fat wheel arches. Never has a car looked so fast standing still. Or, perhaps, it’s the anticipation of speed that an Aston evokes so well. It is permanently ready.
A grand tourer, or GT, demands you cross at least one border in order to stretch its lungs, so we took one to Provence, to round off the old-school vibes: who wants Dubai, Montenegro, Greece or Croatia when you have the warm honeycomb, bougainvillea-lined routes of Aix-en-Provence and Cassis just a hop and skip across the Channel?
The DB12 is my pick of the Aston line-up. In all honesty, the Vantage, Aston’s sportier “baby” of the range, is too much for me. It is the wild child of the family; the youngest son who has been over-indulged and gone off the rails. Its short wheelbase and huge power means its attitude verges on uncontrollable. The DB12 S, however, strikes the perfect balance between refinement, manners and excitement. Boy, does this car sound good with its loud exhausts and significant V8 engine (700 horsepower for those of you who are interested). It stays absolutely pinned on its feet through corners, and warps the wind with its acceleration. And yet, you can trickle to the shops, pop out for coffee and pick up the kids from school without a second thought.
Our base for the trip was the sublime Villa La Coste, a series of white airy villas behind gates, perched on a Provencal hillside with views of the rolling scented pine forests. Vine-covered walkways link the rooms with the restaurant and, below it, the poplar-framed pool. By the main entrance, water trickles through pools. It is peaceful and elegant… until you press the starter button of the DB12 S.
What a glorious racket. We shot down the driveway, the tyres rumbling over the cobbles, and out into the perfumed countryside, heading south to Aix-en-Provence. This stunning medieval town is crowned with enviable Roman history, but it was not our destination, so we skirted past (it was also a relief to stay on wider roads without steep kerbs that threatened to kerb our alloys). Inside the DB12 S, with the windows up and air-con on, everything is muted. Everything that might make a sound, that is. The interior design is anything but. Our DB12 S was the lairiest, and best, blend of colours I’ve seen in an Aston yet. It seems to have taken a page out of Bentley’s book, with two-tone leather covering seats and steering wheels in all manner of colours. There was a classic red and black pairing, an unexpected blend of blues, and oranges, maroons and greys. Just wonderful to see car brands exploring interior design properly, and recognising the importance of materials and colour to drivers.
Our lunch stop was Clos Sainte-Magdeleine, just outside Cassis, a 12th-century vineyard in the heart of the Calanques national park with a view of the sea. Drinking wine and driving an Aston sadly don’t mix, but if the cheese and charcuterie are anything to go by, the wine will be delicious.
Then we simply swung the car round in the gravelled driveway, and wended our way back, via a stunning countryside route that is worth mentioning in detail for the landscape of olive groves and flower-dotted meadows. You head from Cassis east to Roquefort, then the D3 to Le Camp, left onto the DN8 via La Fautriere to pick up the A52 round Marseille, and Bob’s ton oncle. Vive la DB12 S.
