Compared to the cars it followed and those that would continue in its place, the unashamed angularity of the Rolls-Royce Camargue is extraordinary. Rolls-Royce’s decision to use Pininfarina to style its 1975 coupe was a bold move, bolder still to put it into production.
The story of the Camargue began in 1969 when Rolls-Royce sent a Mulliner Park Ward saloon to Italy, where Pininfarina dismantled it to use the chassis. Paolo Martin was in charge of the design, briefed to create “A modern and stylish motor car for the owner driver which maintains the traditional Rolls-Royce features of elegance and refinement.”
The project was a true collaboration between Turin and Crewe, where, said Rolls-Royce, “The two objectives of modern design and functionality have been achieved without giving up the most traditional and distinctive Rolls-Royce items.”
This was an era where straight lines and aggressive angles were on trend, and Pininfarina’s edges were almost as sharp as the pencils that drew them. To soften the look a little, “the impression of lightness and slenderness has been achieved by the careful shaping of panels rather than using chromium-plated decoration,” said Pininfarina. Chrome was, of course, retained for Rolls-Royce’s iconic Pantheon Grille, which was canted forward by four degrees for the first (and only) time in the marque’s history, really putting the cat amongst the pigeons.
“This immediately became one of the motor car’s most recognisable—and controversial—visual signifiers,” admits Rolls-Royce.
Contentious the Camargue most definitely was. A roaring success it wasn’t. Just 531 cars were built between 1975 and 1986, initially at Mulliner Park Ward in Willesden, London, and then on the main line at Crewe.
Despite Pininfarina’s efforts, it has regularly appeared on ugly car lists across the world. It does, however, have its supporters. James May reckons that the Camargue “has presence, like that pug-faced but well-dressed bloke down the pub.”
He’s right, there is a certain threatening dappery about the Camargue. You might even say it’s villainous. The price tag was certainly the stuff of ill-gotten gains, with the Camargue costing £29,250 in 1975 (around $71,000)—an equivalent of over $300,000 in today’s money—making it the most expensive car in the world at the time.
Does it feel it? Having driven a Camargue a couple of years ago, I can confirm that indeed it does.
The Connolly ‘Nuella’ leather is rich, the Wilton carpets are so deep you just want to remove your shoes and socks and curl your toes into them, and you can see your reflection in the acres of polished walnut.
The dashboard is more like the control panel of a Seventies private jet, with the most wonderfully over-engineered switchgear, including ludicrous rotary switches to raise and lower the electric aerial or adjust the speaker balance. There’s even twin-zone air conditioning, which was a world first.
The engine, Rolls-Royce’s standard 6.75-litre V-8, only makes its presence known on startup. From then on, it’s simply there to serve in the background, with the loudest sound in the cabin being the ticking of the clock.
Driving is a wonderful waft. The steering is outrageously light, the power brakes quite sharp, and the transmission’s focus is purely on providing seamless shifts, not instant response. That said, if you do fully depress Oxford to Wilton, the Camargue will raise its bow, squat its stern, and steam ahead fairly rapidly. Although frankly, it feels a little uncouth to do so.
All the while, you sit at an SUV-like height with Spirit of Ecstasy serving as your guide to positioning this glorious behemoth on the road, riding on the most sumptuous suspension available. It’s called Magic Ride for a reason.
In its home market, the Camargue never quite gelled with Rolls-Royce’s traditionalist customers, but New World buyers were more willing to embrace the avant-garde, and 75 percent of sales were in the U.S.
It may not have been the success that then-Rolls-Royce Chairman David Plastow had hoped when he described the Camargue as “an exciting, dramatic purchase which said something about the character of the person who bought it,” but his sentiment remains true today.
Fifty years from its debut, the Camargue is still a roguish, rebellious choice, and one that—in driver-quality condition—could be yours for less than $40,000. If you’re feeling a little Bond-villain-y, or just dig offbeat luxury, the Camargue may be the choice for you.
