VintagEuro #017
French Cars Rule at Carlisle 2025
The Carlisle Import Nationals is decidedly not a high-brow concours d’elegance. It is completely devoid of any prestigious celebrity appearances, grand pageantry, or the need to dress in lavish attire. There may be some champagne flowing, but likely only under the Rolls-Royce and Bentley Club tent.
What Carlisle lacks in posh trappings it makes up for with an unbelievable variety of cars that almost never appear together anywhere else in such numbers. A pilgrimage of orphaned and misfit brands, the annual gathering in central Pennsylvania reliably brings out more Saabs, Volvos, Peugeots, Citroëns, and Renaults than BMWs, Audis, Porsches, and VWs. They even outnumber the growing contingent of popular Japanese and Korean makes.
Of all the reasons to attend Carlisle Import Nationals, it’s the quirky assortment of French cars that make the trip worth it for me. I think it may be because I learned to drive (formally, anyway) in a Renault. I was also studying French in school, so maybe that plays a part as well. I haven’t ever labeled that period as my “French phase,” but looking back I do see a pattern.
That car was a Wisconsin-built Renault Encore, the American equivalent of the native-market Renault 11. That little hatchback was the first new car my mother had ever purchased on her own, and it was the antithesis of all the bloated American sedans we had owned to that point. It was simple, slightly odd, and remarkably efficient by comparison, a true revelation as to how different a family car could be when shaped by another culture. It undoubtedly fueled my future interest in European cars.
Carlisle delivered a number of Renaults, as usual, including several of the Encore/Alliance twins (the Alliance being the trunk-equipped version in this Golf/Jetta-like family). There were also examples of the Renault 5, which Americans best remember as the LeCar. And the Renault 4 police car naturally garnered a lot of attention in its blue Gendarmerie livery.
When it comes to French quirkiness, however, nothing beats Citroën. A handful of DS 21 sedans were in attendance along with their eccentric owners. One such owner invited my daughter and I to sit in the driver’s seat of his car, insisting the experience was like sitting in a sumptuous leather club chair. He was not wrong. But for me, the little Ami 6 sedan was a delight to experience in person, its unusual rear window line stealing my attention.
By comparison, the Peugeots seemed downright conventional. However, The sight of a clean 405 M16 reminded me of its brief existence in this market right as European cars were hitting full stride. I wanted one badly in 1991, but even then I knew it was a trap. Totally unexpected was the Panhard 24 coupe, which appears to combine a mix of Citroën (front) and NSU (rear) styling.
There were plenary of other cars to see at Carlisle this year, but for some reason I was more mesmerized than ever with the French connection. Perhaps I’m just overexposed to all the usual suspects from German, England, and Italy. Maybe it’s a second French phase. Je ne sais pas!
Goods & Gear
French Beret
As with their cars, the French have a different sense of what’s chic when it comes to headwear. The beret is the definitive French hat, worn by men and women alike, and entirely without irony. That’s not often the case here, where it’s typically used as a rebellious statement piece.
From the Beatniks to the Black Panthers in ‘50s and ‘60s to Ferris Bueller and the Beastie Boys in the ‘80s and ‘90s, the beret is a counterculture accessory here. Which makes it the perfect accoutrements for driving a French car. But finding a good one is harder than you’d think, in part because of the variety of types and sizes.
I once walked blocks of market stalls in Paris looking for an authentic example to bring home for my daughter, only to discover many were made in China, and from polyester no less. This L’eiffel beret from Maison Berblanc, however, is made in southwest France of natural 100% Merino wool. It looks great on anyone who’s dressed smartly and should bring any initial snickering to an abrupt end when worn with confidence.
Maison Berblanc L’eiffel Beret
Classics & Cocktails
Bitter French
The French have every reason to be bitter with us. We laugh at their car designs, mock their hats, and complain that they’re rude. But we always love their champagne, which makes an appearance in this flavor-filled sparkling cocktail.
The Bitter French starts out as a gin drink - Plymouth gin, specifically. Campari lends its bitter body as well as its color. Fresh lemon juice brings the pucker, aided by a twist of grapefruit for additional citrus punch. All this is topped off with a splash of dry champagne.
Like certain French cars, there’s a lot going on here and it may take a while to process it all. Eventually, however, we think you’ll come around. Beret is completely optional.
Ingredients
1 ounce Plymouth gin
1/4 ounce Campari
1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice
1/2 ounce simple syrup
Dry champagne
Grapefruit twist
Preparation
In a cocktail shaker, add gin, Campari, lemon juice and simple syrup of crushed ice
Shake vigorously then pour into a champagne flute
Top with chilled champagne
Squeeze grapefruit twist over drink and discard