The car was my Christmas present to myself. I still can’t believe that I have, without further ado, paid a high five-figure sum for a motor vehicle whose existence is attested to by a picture on the internet the size of a postage stamp. And apart from that, just a couple of facts: model year 1981, 218 hp, coffee brown, coupé, louvers (loooooouuuuuvers … yesss!) at the C-pillar, from a dealer based in southern Germany. There is, thank goodness, nothing remotely practical about this model — it is pure 100 percent style. Happiness you can buy. This is not about status: this is about blocking out pragmatism. It’s about that pure and unadulterated feeling of looking forward to something that has nothing to do with everyday life and yet is still an important part of it. For I will be driving my classic car every day; it will be a part of me like my handbag, my scrunchy, my phone and my lipstick.