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Every Luxury Car Brand Identity, Defined

2087 Views 3 Replies 4 Participants Last post by  Car nut
With so many luxury car brands out there, it's hard to know which one stands for what. Here's a simple breakdown of every brand identity in the luxury car game.
This guide was drawn up by Jalopnik's perennial voice of reason, pauljones. He wrote it in response to Infiniti and Acura's recent announcements that they're trying to find their own brand identities. Well, listen up.

Luxury brand identities, huh? Okay, here we go:
Auburn: You're sex on wheels.
Maybach: You have no identity. You're just mildly confused with all the right ingredients, but the wrong fucking recipe.
Bentley: You're a wealthy as shit A+++++ lister trying to be hip. You still don't have a clue.
Rolls-Royce: You're a wealthy as shit A+++++ lister who gives zero shits about being hip, cool, or even what goddamn list you're on. Why? Because you have a Rolls-Royce. Now shut up and pass the Grey Poupon.
Aston Martin: You're trying to be James Bond, but the harder you try, the cheesier you come off. Kind of like the new Vanquish Volante.
BMW: You're a douche.
Audi: You're a douche that pretends to hate other douches.
Mercedes-Benz: You're a douche, and you're damn proud of it.
Cadillac: You're Bruce Springsteen singing about "Glory Days."
Lincoln: You still exist?
Lexus: You're grandpa.
Jaguar: You're quirk. You're class. You're quietly confident. You're still scared shitless of your electrical system.
Porsche: You are cold, calculating, and silently biding your time in a plot for revenge after your plans to buy out VW backfired in the most spectacular manner possible.
Acura: Hello, Walter Mitty.
Infiniti: Hello, Minardi.
Maserati: You're the Italian Jaguar. A little louder, a little less suave, but every bit as quirky, classy, and probably a little more exciting.
Ferrari: You're the automotive equivalent of the New York Yankees. You're flashy, successful, and everyone hates you because you're an arrogant prick.
Duesenberg: You're Jay Gatsby.
Pierce-Arrow: You are class. Pure, fucking class.
Jensen: Class be damned. You're a four-wheel-drive hatchback rocket ship, and that's all that matters.
Bristol: You don't fix things that aren't broken. You also don't exist anymore.
Lamborghini: You're a spoiled, whiny 8th-grade brat throwing a temper tantrum after losing out on a date to the middle school prom.
Imperial: You're proof that the 80s sucked for everyone, including royalty.
Stutz: You're the automotive equivalent of Lindsay Lohan. Once upon a time, you were cute, sexy, and stylish. Then you coked up and sold yourself out until your career ended.

I hope that clears things up. If there are any luxury brands that pauljones forgot, fill in your own version below. You could probably squeeze Land Rover in there nowadays, and if anyone wants to try and pin down what being a Ruxton owner says to the world, be my guest.

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Walter Mitty is a fictional character in James Thurber's short story "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty", first published in The New Yorker on March 18, 1939, and in book form in My World and Welcome to It in 1942. Thurber loosely based the character on his friend, Walter Mithoff.[1] It was made into a film in 1947, with a remake directed by and starring Ben Stiller scheduled for release in 2013.
Mitty is a meek, mild man with a vivid fantasy life: in a few dozen paragraphs he imagines himself a wartime pilot, an emergency-room surgeon, and a devil-may-care killer. The character's name has come into more general use to refer to an ineffectual dreamer, appearing in several dictionaries.[2] The American Heritage Dictionary defines a Walter Mitty as "an ordinary, often ineffectual person who indulges in fantastic daydreams of personal triumphs".[3] The most famous of Thurber's inept male protagonists, the character is considered "the archetype for dreamy, hapless, Thurber Man".[4]

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So judging by the list and the cars I own....I'm Walter Mitty who happens to be a douche? Sorry I don't by the list.
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