Mansory, a company whose design philosophy appears to be "more is more, and then add some more," has outdone itself with the new Pugnator Tricolore – a special edition of their already visually challenging Purosangue modification. And when I say "special," I mean it in the same way your mother used to describe that kid at school who ate glue and thought his pencil was talking to him. Mercifully, they're only making three of these abominations, which is three more than the world actually needs, but at least shows some restraint on Mansory's part. Had they decided to make 100 of them, the collective aesthetic damage to our planet might have been irreversible. Two spoilers are better than one, said nobody ever The standard Mansory Pugnator, revealed last September, featured just one roof spoiler, which now seems almost tastefully restrained by comparison. Not content with this modest level of visual disruption, Mansory has added a second goose-neck wing that hangs off the rear hatch of the Tricolore variant, giving the car the appearance of a Ferrari that's being stalked by a large mechanical insect. It's reminiscent of those fish that have parasites attached to them, except in this case, the parasite is made of carbon fiber and costs more than your house. This additional wing serves no conceivable performance purpose on what is, fundamentally, a luxury SUV. It's there solely to announce to the world that the owner has more money than aesthetic judgment. The Tricolore also features a new rear diffuser with four central tailpipes, because nothing says "I'm subtle and refined" quite like four exhaust pipes blasting V12 noise directly at the car behind you. The modified Ferrari also sports all the hallmarks you'd expect from a Mansory creation – oversized fender vents that look like they were designed to cool the engines of a spacecraft, front canards that would be more at home on a Le Mans racer, new fender surrounds, and various other visual upgrades that answer questions nobody was asking. And let's not forget the wheels – 22 inches at the front and a frankly preposterous 23 inches at the rear. Because apparently, the Ferrari engineers who spent years meticulously designing the Purosangue's suspension and handling characteristics didn't know what they were doing, and what it really needed was wheels the size of manhole covers. Italian flag on the outside, chaos on the insideThe example Mansory is showcasing wears a tri-color paint scheme representing the Italian flag, which would be patriotic if it weren't so painfully literal. It's the automotive equivalent of showing up to an Italian restaurant wearing a shirt with a giant pizza on it and constantly shouting "Mamma mia!" at the waiters. This color scheme continues inside the cabin, which is predominantly white with red and green accents on the seats and center console. But because symmetry is for the uncreative, Mansory has split the door and vent accents – keeping them red on the driver's side and green on the passenger's side. It's like they hired two interior designers, couldn't decide whose concept to go with, and then just implemented both simultaneously. Surprisingly, the interior is actually the most tasteful part of the car. It's garish, certainly, but compared to the exterior, it's practically understated. This is a bit like saying that being hit by a small meteorite is preferable to being hit by a large one – technically true, but neither experience is particularly desirable. Performance-wise, Mansory has treated the Purosangue's glorious 6.5-liter V12 engine to an ECU update and a sports exhaust, boosting power from 715 to 755 horsepower and torque from 528 to 538 pound-feet. That's an increase of 40 horses and 10 pound-feet, respectively – which, in the context of a two-ton-plus SUV, is about as noticeable as adding a teaspoon of sugar to the Pacific Ocean. Is that modest performance bump enough to justify the wild body kit and the undoubtedly astronomical price tag? Only if you believe that attention, regardless of whether it's positive or negative, is the most valuable currency in the world. The most baffling thing about Mansory's creations is that they start with genuinely beautiful, meticulously designed vehicles. The Ferrari Purosangue, love it or hate it, is a masterpiece of automotive design and engineering. It's elegant, purposeful, and striking without being gaudy. Then Mansory gets hold of it and turns it into something that looks like it escaped from a "Need for Speed" game being played by someone with extremely questionable taste. One has to wonder who the buyers for these three Tricolore editions will be. Perhaps they're the same people who think gold taps and marble floors are the height of sophistication. Or maybe they're individuals who are so wealthy that they've exhausted all conventional ways of spending money and have moved on to deliberately commissioning hideous objects just to see if they can. Or perhaps – and this is my personal theory – Mansory is engaged in an elaborate, decade-long performance art piece designed to test the limits of what the super-rich will buy if you tell them it's exclusive enough. "Let's make it uglier and more expensive," I imagine the Mansory design team saying, "and see if they still want it." And, depressingly, it seems they do. The Mansory Pugnator Tricolore – proof that money can buy you many things, but taste isn't one of them.
