A house is not a menu. The classes, the Marque cars and the cars by arrangement are what the house can usually find; they are not the edge of what it will try. A vintage Rolls-Royce for a wedding entry. A convertible for one evening on Marine Drive. Six white cars that arrive together. The exact car a guest drove in another country and misses. A colour. A number. Say it once, to a person, and the house answers in writing: yes, with a date and a figure — or no, said early and plainly, with the nearest thing it can stand behind.
A vintage car with a chauffeur who knows how to drive it. A convertible on a dry evening. A convoy of one marque, one colour. A car with a distinctive number. A car in a colour that matches a wedding’s palette. A car for a film, a shoot, a proposal. A car for a day that is simply yours to describe.
The house finds the car, sees its papers and the permission that lets it carry a guest that day, meets the chauffeur who comes with it, and sends you photographs of the exact car before anything is held. A deposit holds it; the balance is settled seventy-two hours before. The figure is written once and does not move.
A two-seat supercar for the guest to drive; a car on papers nobody has seen; a car the house cannot stand behind on the day. The no comes early, in writing, with what the house can do instead — never on the morning, never at the kerb.
Thirty days lets the house do this properly and gives you the pick of the cars in the season. Less than that, say so: the house tells you what is possible in the time there is, and does not promise what it cannot see. For a wedding between November and February, write early; the rare cars are spoken for first.
Whatever is arranged, the journey is the house’s: your sarathi rides with it, your name and preferences travel with him, the figure is one line with everything inside it, and nothing is asked of you on the day. The car changes. The care does not.
One message is enough. The occasion, the date, roughly how many people, and the car you have in mind — a name, a photograph, or a sentence. A person at the house replies in writing, usually the same day.
Ask the houseThe date, the occasion, the car you picture. A person replies in writing.