If you're like us, you know how frustrating it is to pull up to the stables in your Rolls-Royce to check on your thoroughbreds and find that the owner of Greenspan Loves Rand—a chestnut colt two stalls over—has the same dang car. Sometimes it's like, why even be a billionaire? Sure, your Rolls is magenta with an Acid Green Iguana interior, but it's still a Phantom Drophead or a Wraith or something like that—you kind of forget, because you've had it a while, and who can keep track of which cars they bought three weeks ago? Point is, it's not unique enough, and if there's one thing you learned while slandering your siblings to Father and your stepmom, Missy, it's that a person needs to stand out in a crowd.
Thankfully, Rolls-Royce understands you. They hate that you feel like this. And if you give them enough money, their new Coachbuild department can make you feel like the special-est person around, the ultimate curator of good taste and high culture. Whether you are or not!
Coachbuild is Rolls's response to the question, "How can I spend more money on a car?" The Boattail is its first project, and somehow the company got three mega-loaded individuals to agree on the general idea and each commission a car. Presumably these people all live on different continents, so they'll never feel the shame of parking their Boattail next to another one. The car itself looks like a Phantom Drophead with the trunk replaced by power-operated butterfly doors that conceal a hifalutin picnic setup.
In this case, the junk in your trunk includes a set of custom-designed stools from Italian furniture maker Promemoria, cutlery from Christofle in Paris, and a telescoping parasol. (That's like what the mere eight-digit-net-worth people call a "sun umbrella.") The level of nitpickery is fanatical and astounding: the clasps on the bottle holders in the champagne fridge are color matched to the owner's favorite vintage. Which seems to paint you into a bit of a corner re: bubbly selection, but we guess if you feel like mixing it up on the beverage front you can just get them to build you another car.
At least one of the Boattails includes matching his and hers Bovet 1822 watches that can be worn or fitted into the dash as a clock. Those took three years to design. The engineering for the whole shebang took 20 years' worth of billable hours, says Rolls. The Boattail includes 1813 new parts, all of which are going to be extremely difficult to find at your local AutoZone.
At this point, some of you may be asking, "If the trunk is stuffed with fixings for a fancy picnic, where does the convertible top go?" Great question, Chet! Personally, our solution in the event of rain would be to have our helicopter pilot simply fly overhead at all times with some sort of dome affixed to the skids. Rolls does it a little bit differently and, in the time-honored tradition of charging more money to make things worse, includes a sort of small tent that can be affixed over the interior in the event of rain. Top speed when that's in place: zero miles per hour! Rolls describes this device as a "static transitory shelter," which is also what you called your suite at the Burj for those few weeks you were lying low while Missy was trying to serve you that subpeona.
Rolls didn't mention the Boattail's engine, but we bet it has one.
What else? Well, these three cars are the first Coachbuild projects, but they won't be the last. We hereby predict that one discerning friend of ours, newly single and ready to flaunt his discerning style, might commission a car that has a lot of windows, if you know what we mean. Another very low-key wealthy person we know of might decide to build a car that evokes the wild beauty of the Amazon, if you understand what we're saying. Bottom line is, now that we know that Rolls can theoretically build whatever we want, nothing less will do. Not that it ever did.