At a recent dinner function, I spotted two ladies wearing identical dresses. It was a Diane von Furstenberg, no less, but wearing an expensive designer dress doesn’t guarantee exclusivity, unless you go for something bespoke or one-off. Even then, there is usually at least one piece of each size available, so you might still bump into someone of a different physique wearing the same chic outfit.
To make matters worse in this case, the dresses were red, so they were unlikely to go unnoticed, and the ladies even wore very similar black heels. In a nutshell, the situation was embarrassing verging on painful. The only question was whether they were aware of their fashion faux pas.
When a similar situation happens with cars instead of dresses, does it elicit the same feelings and reactions? My take is, unlike outfits where the awkwardness is the same regardless whether the clothes cost $50 or $500; when it comes to cars, pricing matters.
Imagine yourself driving, say, a Toyota Altis and encountering another in the exact same colour. No big deal. But if it’s two Lambo Aventadors or Porsche 911 GT3s, with the same fancy paint job to boot, you would feel robbed of the full satisfaction derived from the privilege of owning a (supposedly) special supercar.
Looking on the bright side, if the dress makes you a “hit” while the other person in the same dress ends up a “miss”, there might be some redeeming pleasure to be derived from it all – but not enough for you to wish for something like that to happen in the first place.
As for supercars, you might feel better than the other driver if yours is equipped with a nicer bodykit, a snazzier set of wheels, is slightly newer/shinier, has a nicer registration number – or if you’re younger and handsomer/prettier than the other person behind the other wheel.
