Of Sewing Machines and Design

The question of pixels and pistons arises in other places besides automobiles, of course.  This also prompted one of the questions for something that I have a near-passion regarding: watches, and also something I alluded to elsewhere, in that I sometimes “double-wrist,” with a smartwatch on one wrist and a mechanical on the other.  However, I only have one smartwatch, for reasons which I’ll explore in a moment.  (That is, besides the obvious problems of having multiple tools for the same job – perhaps the same argument that could arrive with regard to vehicles as well.)

Put simply – I like the duality.  In the same way that, while I admire vintage cars, I’m not sure I’ll ever own one.  I like modern safety and convenience features.  Some of these are, perhaps, not so modern anymore, as my 23-year old Porsche carries them easily: air conditioning, power windows, multiple airbags for front and side impacts, and so on.  With regard to the double-wristing, the notification elements of the smartwatch (it’s a Garmin Tactix8, by the way) are helpful when I’m traveling either by car or on foot and I can see what my latest 120-second interruption in my attention is going to be.  It also has a ballistics calculator, health monitoring, altimeter, and GPS – cool stuff.

That said, however, I never wear only the Garmin.  If I’m wearing it, I’ll have one of my regulars on the other wrist, which is generally the one I’ll use for when the ordinary duties of a watch will call: what time is it?

I understand that not everyone will see my logic or wish to experience it for themselves.  That’s fine.  It’s much the same reason why most people will gladly have a self-driving car that goes beyond the safety features that I enjoy – they just don’t want to bother driving.  They’d rather check messages, read the paper, or, more likely in this day and age, scroll Tiktok or place sports bets.  A few weeks ago I was driving on Route 32 in suburban Maryland behind a guy in a minivan of some vintage.  We were slow-rolling in the heavy traffic common in the DC-Baltimore area and it was obviously a chore for this idiot to keep his hands on the wheel for all of the scrolling going on with his dashboard-mounted phone.  I’m not sure whether it was Tinder, Grindr, Instagram, Tiktok, Fanduel, or DraftKings. 

This is clearly a wrong mix of pistons and pixels.  One is providing transportation in the form of a 3800-pound moving vehicle, and the other is a distraction away from the inherently risky task of the first.  This is not just abandonment of one for the other; this is a zombified lack of recognition of both.  I wonder how much of this occurs in a less egregious manner, possibly even an unconscious manner, for many of us.

The same question provokes questions regarding the nature and importance of design.  If one thing can be noted about Ferrari, by almost everyone, is that their design is often superb — and almost always striking.  There are exceptions, of course, such as the turn signal controls being buttons on the steering wheel of a 488; this seems like overly tinkery bullshit to me when a signal stalk works for everyone else, including Rolls Royce. 

But Ferraris attract the eye, especially from the outside, and no matter what color nor configuration they are.  This is, in a way, the ultimate user interface, because the user in such an instance is everyone that sees it; it is, at its very core, a work of art.

In my hotel room in Milan during the trip, the decorations included a framed black and white photograph of a remarkable art deco sewing machine.  Milan has long been associated with fashion and, of course, textiles.  It is also surrounded by racetracks and is also the home of Alfa Romeo while being a major-city neighbor to Ferrari and Lamborghini. 

The sewing machine flows through even a static image.  It’s black, and you can tell it glows under the soft lighting in the picture.  The chromed surfaces of the presser, the needle bar, the take-up lever – all sat together as separate pieces but of a piece just the same.  The black enamel surface appears to be as thick and solidly constructed as any top-notch machine, with a heavy duty thread easily visible from the shining spool.  Someone cared about things, very deeply, when designing this machine.  Someone cared very deeply about this thing when buying it, when using it.  Someone cared deeply enough to be struck by its appearance, to take a picture of it – a lasting impression to be hung on a hotel wall to be noticed, perhaps, by a stranger that would be unlikely to come through that way ever again.  The sewing machine was beautiful…and singular.

Sewing machines don’t generally look like that anymore, unless you’re a collector.  But only Ferraris have ever looked like Ferraris (some others, like the C8 Corvette, are interesting exceptions) and they are still the only things that do.  Even over the 70+ year history of Ferrari race cars and Ferrari road cars – only one thing ever looks like a Ferrari.  While the Porsche 911 shape is absolutely iconic, the design language of the entirety of Ferrari would indicate an entire, strategic devotion to avant garde, striking appearance.  The arrival is Ferrari par excellence, and nothing but that occasion would ever do, for driver, passenger, or onlooker…which is why the new Ferrari Luce has landed with the adroitness of a…well, a lead-acid battery.