Look at that image up there. There’s an element to it that has always baffled me. It’s not the Cadillac Seville itself, with its bold bustle-back rear; that I’ve always respected. It’s not the use of electric lights made to look like gas lamps on the street – that’s a bit of strange nostalgic subterfuge but I guess it’s not really hurting anyone, and has its charm, I suppose. It’s not Williams-Sonoma, though I do think their letterspacing on that awning is a bit too tight and I can’t afford anything in there, most likely. It’s not the woman’s bangs, which I think are fantastic. It’s not even the garish wire wheelcovers, which at least can be used to grate cheese in a pinch. No, it’s something far worse.
It’s the roof.
Specifically, that roof that is not just a vinyl roof, but is what Cadillac called a “full cabriolet roof,” and is sometimes called other things like a “carriage roof” or “landau top” (even though I think this one is wrong, because there are not necessarily any actual landau bars present) or simply “fake convertible top.”
They’re terrible, but you could get them as a factory option from Cadillac back in the ’80s and well beyond that:
According to Cadillac’s copywriters, this was an “added look of distinction,” I suppose the distinction being that you were a person with the sort of taste that would make the most common greeting you get at any social gathering be “the fuck are you wearing?”
It wasn’t just Cadillac, of course. All the major American luxury car makers dipped deeply into this tepid, gelatinous cask of faux-class. Look, here’s one from Lincoln:
Let’s clarify the key traits of a fake convertible top over just a vinyl roof. The crucial part here, like in so many things in life, is intent: a vinyl top is what it is, and the only subterfuge most vinyl tops harbor is that they’re likely hiding a lot of rust and sloppy factory bodywork on the roof itself. But a fake convertible top’s goal is to deceive: it wants to look as though it is an actual, foldable convertible roof, even though it isn’t. As a result of this deceptive nature, we can see traits like these:
The fake ribs are likely the most common and essential defining trait; this is the basic essence of what separates the fake convertible top from the vinyl top, the pantomime of an underlying structure of convertible top ribs that don’t actually exist. The line of useless snaps around the base is an extra, advanced option, suggesting the attachment points of a convertible top boot that only exists in the fevered imagination of some likely long-dead designer.
An embroidered (or sometimes silkscreened) logo helps to draw attention to the fact that the roof is fabric (covered), and it’s worth noting that fabric is a more convertible-appropriate canvas-type material instead of vinyl.
Finally, we have the most obvious tell that this is all a ruse: the door cuts. These are likely the biggest slap in the face of all of this, the way the whole illusion of the convertible is brutally shattered by seeing the very clear cutlines for the doors that go right into the allegedly fabric roof. And that’s already if somehow you were able to ignore the fact that a huge four-door car like this is a pretty unlikely convertible in the first place.
What was the appeal of these tops? They mostly died out in the ’90s- early 2000s, but not entirely. It’s still possible to see a modern, aerodynamic car with one of these tops and it looks absolutely preposterous.
Were people just wanting to feel like they had a convertible, but without the option of being able to do the one thing with the car that makes it fun, taking down the top? Is this feeding some kind of denial or frustration fetish? A sort of automotive retelling of the myth of Tantalus, condemned to always offer the temptation of taking down the top, but never able to actually realize it.
It’s cruel.
Unrelated, but from this same brochure, is this wonderful illustration of the Seville’s remarkable four speaker sound system:
It’s so wonderfully laser-y in there, with those sound beams bouncing all over the place! It looks like the rear speakers bounce sound off the rear window, which then bounces off the windshield, where it then saturates the driver? Am I reading that right?
Also, those two little slots in each of the rear speaker units look exactly like USB-A ports, making this feel strangely prescient.
Personally, I think the early Ford Panther platform looks significantly better WITH the Landau. Ford LTD, Mercury Grand Marquis, and Lincoln Town Car of the boxy Panther era just look odd without the Landau treatment. Since ~1992 when they smoothed the edges it doesn’t look better, though.
My friends and I used to drive alongside these and signal to people to “put the top down”. Not sure that whatever gestures we were making made any sense to the occupants of said FCT vehicle but we thought that it was hilarious.
One of my summer jobs as older teenager in the 1980s was working at a full-service car wash salon. Despite the scorching hot summer days, it was probably one of the coolest jobs ever: driving those fancy cars. I learnt how to drive a limousine, becoming one of a very few workers allowed to drive them.
We had a number of those fake cabriolet cars, and they were PAIN to work with. We had to work quickly as to keep things moving. Those little screws and chrome trims kept catching the drying towels, shredding them to pieces quickly. We sometimes had to use the small pliers to pull the fabric yarns out of them. When wet, some of the “fabric” cover in darker colours would catch the lint and hold on them stubbornly, forcing us to do more work in drying the cover thoroughly and removing the lints with vacuum cleaners. This led to longer queue for the workers to finish drying the vehicles.
My boss had enough of it and posted: “NO FAKE CABRIOLET ROOFS!” We had to turn a quarter of cars away, but we earned more money by shifting as many vehicles as possible. Eventually, the other car wash salons did the same thing.
There is a Camry in my area that has one of these tops. Can’t be but a couple of years old. Makes me laugh every time I see it
Of all the “carriage roof” abominations served up by dealers and carmakers, the Mark V’s actually DOES kind of pull off the illusion. Of course, fake convertible tops and aircraft-style doors don’t go together, but no one ever went broke under-estimating etc etc.
I never understood the appeal of a toupée or a merkin either. Yet all three exist.
Aren’t you looking close up at features meant to be seen in a moving vehicle from 20 foot away or more?
I saw a new Nissan Altima with a fake convertible top a few days ago. It wasn’t good.
It feels like it’s related to actual large luxury convertibles going away in the 70s.
An old lady years ago told me she love them because they looked like a parade coup car that made the car seem important and higher value. There were some wealthy old people who used to get some full size sedans turned in to convertibles in Florida I guess I understand that to an extent but the glue vinyl to a roof to make a rust issue and look stupid Ive never understood. I think part of it was when they would stretch a vehicle for a limo they would throw a vinyl top on it to hide their sins and I guess people thought it was fancy and started wanting it on their full size sedans. I haven’t noticed if dealers are still doing it but many Cadillac and Lincoln dealers used to do it to a few an put them on the lot in to the early 2010s. I think I’ve seen that old people Lincoln cuv thing with a vinyl roof. They turn those into limos sometimes so maybe that’s the prerequisite now. The bed liner for the look I think is a much better option if for some reason some fossil wants it.