Aston Martin Isn’t Making Anyone Pick Favorites. But We Are, Anyway
Kristin Shaw
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This article is written by Kristin Shaw and Guest Contributor Victoria Scott
You wouldn’t think it would be easy to pick my favorite out of a whole bunch of Aston Martins. But it was.
A few months ago, I had the opportunity to drive Aston Martins for two straight days for a California evaluation route. And that, my friends, is the space where dreams come true.
I’m a huge fan of the elegant British brand, and each model I sampled left me feeling a little starry eyed. Among the DBX, Vantage, DB11, and DBS Coupe and Volante, I and several other female automotive journalists swapped cars as we made our way from Los Angeles to Palm Desert, criss-crossing the canyons and switchbacks in screaming twin-turbo V8s and beefy V12s.
It was, in a word, glorious.
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DBS Coupe and Vantage. Photo: Victoria Scott
Each of us had a favorite, even though it felt a bit blasphemous to say that one was better than another. Some would argue that Aston Martin’s SUV, the DBX, is not on the same plane as its sports cars. But the truth is, the DBX has the same 4.0-liter twin-turbo V8 engine under the hood as the Vantage and DB11. And there was no question that I enjoyed the DBX, especially in the special-edition paint called Blush Pearl.
Enough Already. Which One Was It?
It was the DBS Coupe that took my heart and gripped it with the threat of never letting go. What Aston Martin calls “The Brute in a Suit” is stunning to the eyes and cradles your body like a mother. It’s what Glennon Doyle calls “brutiful” – brutal and beautiful in the most poignant of ways. And if you think I’m overselling it here, please sit inside one and then get back to me.
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DBS Coupe Wins My Heart. Photo: Kristin Shaw
The DBS Volante, which is the brand’s term for its convertibles, was a close second for me. Equipped with the same 5.2-liter twin-turbo V12 as the Coupe, it pumped out 715 horses with a roar that sounded like a charging grizzly bear. This car felt like the pure luxury it’s meant to evoke; with the top down on a California highway, it’s music to my ears.
That’s not to say that I didn’t care for the DB11 or Vantage F1; both were beautiful machines in their own ways. But just like when you find the right partner, the others just won’t do. The Vantage F1 was striking in British Racing Green with a jaunty stripe down the middle and attitude to spare. It felt raw and powerful and it carves out the sides of mountains with panache. It didn’t have the same magic as the DBS Coupe.
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Could my favorite be the Aston Martin Volante? Photo: Kristin Shaw
That’s not to say that I didn’t care for the DB11 or Vantage F1; both were beautiful machines in their own ways. But just like when you find the right partner, the others just won’t do. The Vantage F1 was striking in British Racing Green with a jaunty stripe down the middle and attitude to spare. It felt raw and powerful and it carves out the sides of mountains with panache. It didn’t have the same magic as the DBS Coupe.
The Aston Martin DBS is My Top Choice, But It Wasn’t Everyone’s Cup of English Tea
This is where my friend Victoria Scott and I diverged: she was 100 percent Team Vantage F1, and her photos will show you partially why. Her words below will explain the rest, and let me say this: she’s absolutely spot on with both her assessment and analysis of why we prefer these very different cars. I preferred the comfort and plush softness of both the suspension and the seats in the DBS while she chose the visceral experience of the Vantage. She is a shot of tequila, fiery all the way down. I am silky-smooth barrel-cured Bourbon. And we’re both right.
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Interior of the DBS Coupe. Photo: Kristin Shaw
Impossibly, Victoria Had a Different Favorite. Here is Her Winner.
I must immediately admit: I am biased. In an objective world, my co-author is correct. A purring twin-turbo V12, seven hundred fifteen horsepower, an eye-watering $370,000 emblazoned on the Monroney sticker stuck in the window — the math doesn’t lie; there are few cars that can play in this ballpark. Every point of contact in the cabin is covered in the nicest materials money can buy, the exterior composed with the long-hood, short-deck proportions of the greatest tourers in history, all hiding the sheer righteous fury of the finest in-house motor Aston Martin has ever constructed.
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DBS Coupe And Sky. Photo: Victoria Scott
In its all-black-and-carbon Superleggera guise, it looks more Bond-villain than Bond himself. Either way, it’s the kind of car that pairs extremely well with stilettos and a Walther PPK pistol; it drips with deadly class. What more could I want? Well, I’d actually like less. The DBS is so poised, so powerful, so sophisticated; it makes perfect sense for Kristin, a woman with elegance, taste, and places to be.
Keep the Suit, I Like the Brute of the Aston Martin Vantage
However, I am a twenty-six-year-old in skater shoes with vivid memories from my childhood, game nights playing Gran Turismo on my Playstation and a lead foot from birth. And that’s why the Vantage F1 Edition hits me as the best car in their lineup, and perhaps my favorite supercar in a market saturated with 500-horsepower-plus choices. The Vantage itself is a familiar formula for Aston Martin; where the DBS carries on the torch of purely brutal power ensconced in a large plush tourer, the Vantage — especially in F1 Edition guise — only offers brutality.
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Aston Martin Vantage in Palm Springs. Photo: Victoria Scott
The Vantage’s AMG-sourced, 4.0 liter twin turbo V8 spits out 527 horsepower to the 295-millimeter wide Pirelli P Zero tires in the rear. While less on paper than the DBS, everything else about the delivery makes that number delivered with the utmost urgency — an urgency the plush DBS just doesn’t replicate. The electronically-controlled suspension ranges from “somewhat uncomfortable” to “diabolically punishing” on surface streets. The exhaust baffles — also electronically controlled — allow the motor to go from burbling ominously under light load to echoing-off-the-canyon-walls deafening. The steering is sharper than the razor I use to eradicate my morning stubble, and the eight-speed transmission switches gears with enough violence to get top billing in a Tarantino film. Gone are the leather mid-century-modern living quarters of the DBS; here you get race-striped microfiber cloth seats and a discount for a chiropractor.
Aston Martin Vantage in the canyons. Photo: Victoria Scott
To be clear, it is not in spite of these things that I love it. This is why it was my favorite, because it is a race car with a Fast and Furious fixed wing tacked on the back, with an exhaust that could wake the dead. Speed should come with compromises, and if my oblation to the altar of performance is some comfort, so be it. I’m young and I can take it.
And it’s not like subtlety is my style; give me a bright-yellow dress and floral tights and the rich satin Aston Martin Racing Green and open up the silencers. Herald my approach with the straight-piped sound of 500 British horsepower: Tori’s here and we’re hitting the canyons.
Victoria and the Vantage. Photo: Victoria Scott