No one tried to sell me a private plane this time, but I did get laughed out of the Lamborghini Greenwich tent. I figured I could smooth talk my way into a test drive if I wore enough seersucker. I was wrong. That wasn't much of a surprise, but something else was: I love Packards (I had no idea). On a 90-plus degree day in Greenwich it was time to celebrate American Iron. Rolling sculptures of sheetmetal were on display, ringed by vendors of $100,000-and-up European cars with a legitimate chance to make a sale. You want to recreate the vibe? Have about three beers to give yourself a pleasant, low-grade buzz, get yourself some deck shoes, a belt with whales on it, and two matching dogs on one leash, and then go stand in a sauna with The Girl From Ipanema playing in the background. That's about right. The sights and commentary are in the galleries. As always, the show started in the parking lot.
Related:
Be a Dear and Bring 'Round the Cars: The Greenwich Concours, 2006 [internal]