I’ll admit that I’ve always loved the Citroën Ami’s design, despite knowing that, objectively, the front end is really, really awkward-looking. Some may say “ugly,” but I won’t. It’s too interesting to be ugly, to compellingly weird. It introduced rectangular headlamps, but then surrounded them with oval bezels, and draped everything with that strange, languid arc of a hoodline, like the hood was fabric, held up by the headlight pods. It’s so strange.
The grille is awkward and small, the indicators are set into a strange linear, chrome-bordered recess that feels like part of something else, and the hardware for the bumper doesn’t look like automotive hardware; the bumper looks like it’s made from bathroom grab handle railings, or something.
And yet, despite all this, somehow I like that weird, grumpy face. It has real charm behind it, a peculiar sort of fussy, weird charm, like an annoying friend that would do anything if it makes things more fun, even if they won’t shut up or not make weird noises when they chew.
Maybe that’s why it’s called the Ami?