Mulling Over the Mulsanne

A refresh and a new model from one of the world’s most traditional carmakers. Even if you can’t buy one, here is why you should care.

- Low Ka Wei

What is the relevance of this million-dollar car to those who cannot afford, or cannot justify, its stratospheric cost? Because, admittedly, if you do the maths, this is a purchase for the top 1 per cent of the 1 per cent of the 1 per cent. That is no hyperbole: Bentley sells about 1,000 Mulsannes a year to a global market of seven billion people.

But, if you have even a modicum of interest in automobiles, you should be thankful that the Mulsanne still exists. For it is handcrafted in very nearly the same coachbuilding ways of yore, in a contemporary car making realmwhere typical cost efficiencies dictate that, say, a door handle be cast by the million from plastic squished into a mould by a robot.

It is the definition of old-school, created using manual labour, on a dedicated production line to keep out the prying abacus of the accountant, who would surely baulk at the 400 hours artisans spend on double-stitching unblemished cowhides, mirror-matching precious veneers and handbrazing adjoining body panels.

From the round chromed air vents to the delightfully sculpted organ stops that control the volume of air dispelled, anything that looks like metal is metal. It is something Bentley executives call “material integrity” – a concept unheard of in the world of good-enough faux mediums. So, accustomed to this, I am ashamed to admit that I had foolishly assumed the switchgear to be clear plastic, only to later discover that it was, in fact, glass.