And the interior is as much of a delight as the exterior. More bolstered seats (a necessity in the XFR), seemingly infinitely adjustable that can both cool and warm. A clean, uncluttered dash with dark oak and aluminium, with red-stitching on its leather-clad top. A simple but effective touch-screen information centre (simple but effective – take note, BMW). The theatre of the revolving air vents when you press the pulsating starter button to fire up the Supercharged V8; the soft blue light that bathes the interior at night; the rising, rotary gear selector. As a piece of theatre it is a delight. As an interior, it’s a resounding success.
But the aesthetics are subjective. For me they work wonderfully well. Rarely have I been more comfortable in a car. Rarely have I felt so at ease with a car – particularly such a powerful car – so quickly. And rarely have I driven a powerful – and potentially ostentatious – car that evoked such a benign response from other road users. Drift through traffic in a BMW M5 or a Mercedes E63 and you’ll be waiting at every junction for the road to clear. No one will let you out. Do it in a Jaguar – even this £60,000 Supercharged Jaguar XFR – and you get let out. With a smile and a wave. Astonishing.
There’s something in the psyche of drivers that is kindly disposed to the aesthetics of the Jaguar XFR. It’s admired and coveted, but not resented. That has to be a big plus on its own.
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