Between the vineyards and a V8: the Aston Martin DB12 S storms the South of France

The south of France has a warmth and ease that feels entirely its own — sun on pale stone, cafés spilling into squares and the scent of salt and rosemary drifting in from the Mediterranean.

Marseille captures this perfectly: a lively, weathered port city where fishing boats crowd the harbour, shutters fade gracefully in the heat and life is conducted loudly over coffee, wine and seafood — the perfect place, therefore, to launch the Aston Martin DB12 S super tourer.

Naturally, threading an Aston Martin through the bustle of Marseille would have done little to flatter it, but the sweeping roads beyond the launch venue at Château La Coste provided the ideal setting to experience a machine of this calibre.

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The venue was positioned deep in the scenic countryside of southern France — rolling vineyards enveloped its pale stonework and large contemporary art sculptures. Arriving early, I took a walk around the grounds, breathing in the fresh French air and nodding thoughtfully at the sculptures, while quietly pretending I knew what any of them were supposed to resemble.

Positioned between Cypress trees was an all too familiar work of art, a Synapse Orange Aston Martin DB12 S. This was more of a punch yourself moment, rather than that of a pinch; this was the brand’s latest GT brute — and I was eager to get behind the wheel.

In case you’re unfamiliar with Aston’s ‘S’ products, these are essentially honed versions of already polished cars. By spending an extra £14,000 over the standard DB12, you get an extra 19bhp, a dual-element front splitter, a fixed rear spoiler, a redesigned rear diffuser and bonnet louvres, and stacked exhaust tips. While this sounds skin-deep, Aston’s given the DB12 S stiffer anti-roll bars, which work in tandem with its Bilstein DTX adaptive dampers, alongside tweaked toe, castor, and e-diff settings.

The next day, a Liquid Crimson DB12 S Volante with Satin Bronze alloy wheels awaited. It rained the day before, but 21-degree heat awaited my pasty Scottish skin, and what better way to catch rays than in a convertible.

Our 80-mile route began at the villa, then took the motorway towards the meandering D roads around Barres de Font Blanche, then on to picturesque Marseille. There’s something incredibly satisfying about following a convoy of Aston Martins while being behind the wheel of one. Our engine’s symphony added to the orchestra produced by the cars in front and behind, and as time advanced, the ensemble became weaker as the cars in front disappeared into the distance. I was in no hurry and wanted to get to know what each of its satisfyingly clicky switches did before hammering on. Likewise, it’s a girthy machine at 2.1m wide — and I didn’t want to be the guy that hands Aston Martin pieces of its £200,000-plus car in a paper bag because of a disagreement with a stone wall.

As fellow Country Life writer Adam Hay-Nicholls and I drifted through the countryside with the unhurried confidence of two retired Parisian baguette magnates, it was clear how much of a GT spirit the DB12 S has; Aston hasn’t traded ride comfort for spine-dislodgment. Instead, it’s incredibly civilised, as is the twin-turbocharged V8 that sits at the car’s nose.

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With the motorway behind us, a winding mountain pass opened up ahead. Engaging Sport Plus mode promptly transformed the car from a cosseting cruiser into something far more alert and urgent — like sitting astride a Bengal tiger on the hunt.

Our car was fitted with the optional titanium exhaust — an absolute must-have. The growling V8 soundtrack — backed by turbocharged whistles — bounced around the hills. Our ears were treated to pops and bangs — like that of the devil’s morning cough — whenever you let off the throttle. Good, God, it’s a magnificent thing.

Similarly, through each bend, you feel connected to the road surface, likely due to its additional steering tweaks. Grip? The DB12 S tracks through corners with metronomic precision. ‘Let’s take the next one even quicker,’ we both agreed. Unlike Bond, the car leaves you more stirred and less shaken.

Trip over, we returned to the château, and for once I found myself with nothing to criticise about the car I’d just driven. How could that be? I remember thinking there must be some scratchy plastics somewhere, or perhaps a stray stitch out of place — but there was nothing of the sort. The Aston Martin DB12 S is a genuinely accomplished super tourer.