“It’s now two weeks into a summer road trip of the South. I started in South Carolina, moved through Georgia, and crossed Alabama visiting tiny regional car shows in search of designer cars, trying to meet up with certain car clubs I’d found on the Internet. The trip to date has been pretty dry. I haven’t found anything remotely appealing. I found a couple of Louis Vuitton cars, but by now they’re becoming ubiquitous and boring. I’m looking for more specific, arresting cars. The last show I visited, in Alabama, was a bust. I have time for one more show before heading down to Miami. It’s a small show somewhere in the Florida panhandle.
I’m scanning the parking lot, not feeling very optimistic, and then there it is: a burgundy 1996 Lincoln Mark VIII low-rider. The interior is covered in Coach logos. It’s hot pink, burgundy and [with] yards of Coach fabric. I meet the owner, a welder. He’s wearing a pair of white Nike Airs with a sewn-on Coach pattern that’s a replica of his car’s interior. He’s got shoes that match his car. I can’t take the picture of his car at the show so we arrange to shoot the next day at his house. There I find out that the car is really his and his wife’s. His wife and him share the car—designed the car—she’s obsessed with Coach. She owns a lot of Coach products. The car was basically created because she wanted to have a Coach car. It’s actually very cute: they chose the colors together.”— Luis Gispert