Curbside Musings: 1991 Mercury Capri – Do Anything But Copy

1991 Mercury Capri. Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois. Thursday, July 4, 2024.

Establishing one’s own, unique persona and identity is important to a youth.  It’s part of the path to increased self-ownership and healthy individuation from the family unit.  This process can be more challenging if you’re one of other same-sex siblings.  Increased attention to personal expression is also found in the classroom, especially after fall semester is underway.  Up to a certain age, many kids want to be thought of as cool as they try on new-to-them styles of clothing and hair.

There are always members of a select vanguard who are on the cutting edge, and by my observation, it normally takes a while for the styles they showcase to gain enough familiarity with others before becoming more widely seen.  The trendsetters don’t seem to care about what’s considered to be cool, and by not caring, they end up making the rules.  Some trends never break out of the underground, but I have always had nothing but respect for authenticity, whether I liked something or not.

1991 Mercury Capri factory brochure cover, as sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org.

It’s also true that nobody likes a copycat.  One can ape someone else’s style out of admiration, but absent the legitimacy of commitment and internalization of the associated attitude, attempts to bite someone else’s style can fall flat.  I’ve written before about how I used to try in adolescence to dress like my older brother, who was a whole six years and change older than me.  My younger brother, in turn, did the same thing with me, and it seemed to become some sort of weird sibling flex to try to copy each other.  It didn’t help that unhealthy competition between siblings seemed to be fostered by our mother (another story for a different day), but the good that came of this – for me, anyway – was the idea that it was totally okay to go left-field and do things nobody else was going to try to copy.

1991 Mercury Capri. Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois. Thursday, July 4, 2024.

Last year, one of my oldest friends, from since right before she and I started first grade, unearthed some college-era pictures of me with multiple piercings and a red mohawk (don’t ask, because I won’t post those shots here), and it brought back a flood of memories.  Looking at those pictures of myself at age nineteen inspired respect in me for my former self, with the amount of risk-taking and apparent apathy toward convention that I displayed back then.

I was never going to be my family’s golden child or the comedian, so it’s like I had doubled down on my developing idiosyncratic characterization and just went for it, as if to send the message that I was simply no longer going to compete in unnecessary, tension-building contests that I had never signed up for.  The “Flint” within me generally resurfaces only when it needs to, but mid-’90s Joe had visibly wanted to put people on notice.  More importantly, I knew that few people were going to duplicate my exact look, which was important to me.

1991 Mercury Capri factory brochure pages, as sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org.

I was in high school when the first-ever Capri convertible arrived in the U.S. for model year ’91.  The MX-5 Miata had already been on sale here since February of ’89 as a 1990 model and was already a runaway success.  To me, the Miata seemed like a reborn Lotus Elan, with similarly appealing and yet thoroughly modern styling, but with bulletproof Japanese engineering, reliability, and modern performance.  I had long been a fan of the original Ford Capri mini-ponycar, imported in two generations from Europe between 1970 and ’77.  I also had liked the homegrown, Fox-platform Capri which was like a Mustang with a twist and those muscular, boxed front and rear fenders.  That car had bowed out after ’86, so naturally when I learned that a new Capri was on the way, I was happy and had high hopes for the return of this nameplate.

1991 Mercury Capri. Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois. Thursday, July 4, 2024.

Interestingly enough, this new Capri, like the Miata, would have Mazda DNA, based on the Ford Laser that was related to the Mercury Tracer and Mazda 323 sold in the States.  Unlike the rear-drive Miata, the new Capri would be front-drive like the subcompacts it was based on.  In another aspect of differentiation and one I had almost completely forgotten about, the new Capri would have a teeny, tiny back seat, effectively making it a two-plus-two.  Or a two-plus-one.  Whatever.  That little, rudimentary bench behind the front seats made for a better experience than riding (illegally) anywhere else on or in the car for short trips.

1990 Mazda MX-5 Miata print ad, as sourced from the internet.

I can’t speak to the mechanics, so the focus of this essay isn’t about the difference in driving dynamics between the two “cousins”, but rather about the contrast in their exteriors.  The first MX-5 Miata was, and remains, a flawless styling statement.  It will probably forever be my favorite generation of MX-5, and it would have to take something so pure a stylistic expression of automotive joy to dethrone it in my mind.  The 1990 Miata was the first of a long line of great ones, and the fact that there was nothing else like it on the market at the time made it all the more special.

Enter the Australia-sourced Capri.  Let’s think about this.  There was already a Miata, which was also a Mazda.  Aesthetically, Ford had this fork in the road when it came to styling this Capri: to serve up another curvy, ersatz Miata, or to go in a completely different direction – which is ultimately what Ford did.  How would one out-Miata the Miata?  This would have been an impossible task.  The Capri’s much more angular styling, influenced by the Ghia Barchetta show car of 1983, was like an aesthetic one-eighty from the MX-5.  It was a zig to the zag.

1991 Mercury Capri factory brochure pages, as sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org.

Unlike with the Miata, the Capri’s styling was not love at first sight with me.  I didn’t dislike it, either.  I just didn’t take to it immediately the way I had the Miata.  I remember reading about it in some of the random car magazines I had picked up around that time, and while I can’t remember any specifics, what I can recall is that the general tone of those articles was hopeful and positive toward the new, little Mercury.  Like the marranitos cookies I had referenced in my recent ’81 Toyota Celica essay, the styling of this reborn Capri eventually grew on me and I genuinely liked it… for a while.  It hasn’t aged nearly as gracefully as the early Miata, but seeing this red example parked in the neighborhood in such great condition made me remember what I had found attractive about them when they were new.

1991 Mercury Capri. Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois. Thursday, July 4, 2024.

The timeline of the arrival of both cars would indicate that the development of the Mazda and Ford had long been underway so that the Capri’s styling couldn’t be seen as reactionary.  This was probably not how most consumers saw it.  The Miata came first, and boy, was it pretty.  The Capri didn’t copy the cool kid’s clothes, and it went in its own completely different sartorial direction, much like I did with that red mohawk.  The Mercury roadster’s look may not have been a hit, but at least it was original, and more importantly, all its own and with no Ford equivalent.  At the time, that was enough for it to resonate with me.

Edgewater, Chicago, Illinois.
Thursday, July 4, 2024.

The 1991 Mercury Capri brochure pages were sourced from www.oldcarbrochures.org.  The 1990 Mazda MX-5 Miata print ad was sourced from the internet.

Linked here is an excellent and comprehensive article on this generation of Capri from JohnH875.