Britain vs. Germany: an ongoing battle of titans. They have been besting each other for centuries, mostly with flags, ships, football matches, music festivals, and the occasional deeply suspicious sausage.

Germany won the beer round. Britain won humor, because only a nation permanently standing under a gray sky could develop sarcasm into a survival skill. Food? Let’s be generous and call that one a historic draw with modern improvements. Weather? Germany gets points for occasionally issuing sunshine on a schedule. Britain gets points for turning drizzle into national identity. Mathematics? Both win. Engineering? Both win. Cars? That is where the fight becomes personal.

Because when Britain and Germany both get it right, they do not just build transportation. They build philosophy with wheels.

Take these two gems: the Mercedes-Benz R129 SL500 and the 1998 Jaguar XKR. Both come from precious lineages. Both carry motorsport shadows behind their grilles. Both are respected in the car community as proper, full-blooded grand tourers. Both are elegant. Both are fast. Both tell a story before the key is even turned.

And yet they could not tell that story more differently.

The Jaguar is the smoking jacket: theatrical, seductive, walnut-lined, slightly dangerous after midnight. The Mercedes is the tuxedo: formal, expensive, unflappable, and built as if Stuttgart believed civilization itself depended on door shut-lines.

Yes, there are other options. Some may even be better in certain measurable ways. The later Mercedes R230 SL55 AMG, for instance, is a performance bargain now, and period reviewers genuinely placed it in absurd company — coverage of the day cast the supercharged SL55 as a serious rival for the Porsche 911 Turbo, the Aston Martin V12 Vanquish, and the Ferrari 360 Modena. A wild leap from the older SL’s more aristocratic mission.

But that is also the point. The newer cars got faster, cleverer, more ruthless. They became technology showcases. The old ones were something else. They were confidence made physical.

And the R129, especially, is now entering that second life where yesterday’s high technology becomes today’s romance.

I. First, the Mercedes: the R129 SL500

Let’s get one thing out of the way: people sometimes say “W129,” but Mercedes-Benz people will quietly adjust their glasses and remind you that the SL roadster is the R129. The “R” matters. It stands for roadster, and in the case of this SL, it also might stand for restraint, rigor, and rich uncle.

The R129 arrived in 1989 as the replacement for the long-running R107, and it remained in production until 2001. Mercedes built 204,940 of them, which is both part of its greatness and part of its market problem. It was not rare enough to become instantly mythic, but it was too good to disappear.

That success became its downfall, at least emotionally. The R129 sold so well that for years it felt familiar. You saw them outside country clubs, law offices, nice restaurants, and later, slightly tired used-car lots with mismatched tires. Familiarity dulled the halo. The car never lost its quality, but it lost some of its mystery.

Now the mystery is coming back. Because the R129 has aged into exactly the right moment. The world is tired of angry headlights, enormous screens, fake vents, and steering wheels with more buttons than a regional airport. The R129 is old-school future-tech. It has motors, hydraulics, sensors, magnesium, leather, wood, and real mechanical ceremony. It is not analog in the crude sense. It is analog futurism.

Mercedes knew it was special from the beginning. Daimler-Benz’s own 1988 annual report described the new SL as a car meant to combine maximum safety, handling, ride comfort, and performance. The report specifically highlighted the electro-hydraulic soft top, the automatic sensor-controlled roll-over bar, adaptive damping, level control, and integral seats with built-in restraint systems.

That is the R129 in one sentence: a roadster engineered like a safety laboratory, dressed like a boulevardier.

II. The engineering: why the R129 mattered

The R129 was not merely a pretty SL with a new suit. It was one of Mercedes-Benz’s great demonstrations of engineering confidence.

Its structure was a steel monocoque drawn from the Mercedes passenger-car world, and buyer’s guides commonly note its kinship with the W124-era engineering culture — it rides, in fact, on a shortened version of the W124 E-Class floorpan — all solidity, durability, and multi-link sophistication rather than delicate sports-car minimalism. The R129 used independent suspension with a sophisticated rear multi-link setup, and Mercedes offered the Adaptive Damping System, or ADS, on some versions.

The suspension was not designed to make the SL500 feel like a Lotus. It was designed to make 100 mph feel like 45. That is a very different skill.

The steering was power-assisted recirculating ball rather than a sharp rack-and-pinion setup. On paper, that sounds old-fashioned. On the road, it gives the car a particular Mercedes feel: not nervous, not chatty, not eager to overshare. The SL500 does not whisper every pebble into your fingertips. It tells you the important things and filters out the gossip.

The chassis is heavy, yes. An SL500 tips the scales around 4,165 pounds. It is not light on its feet in the modern sense. But it is composed. It feels carved rather than assembled. The weight is always there, but it is dignified weight — the kind that makes a bank-vault door feel reassuring instead of inconvenient.

Then there is the roof. The R129’s electro-hydraulic soft top is theater. Press the button and the car performs a little Stuttgart ballet. The hardtop gives it a coupe profile. The soft top gives it open-air glamour. The roll bar sits hidden until needed, then snaps up in roughly three-tenths of a second if the car senses a rollover. It is one of those pieces of engineering that reminds you Mercedes was not guessing. It was planning for disasters that had not happened yet.

And the seats — those famous integral seats — are not just seats. They are restraint systems, structural ideas, safety concepts wrapped in leather. The belts are integrated into the seats themselves, which allowed the R129 to remain a proper open car without sacrificing Mercedes’ safety obsession.

This was the magic of the R129: it was luxurious, but the luxury came from engineering first.

III. The engine: the M119 V8 and the SL500 sweet spot

The SL500 is the heart of the R129 range.

Yes, there were six-cylinder versions. Yes, there were V12s. Yes, there were AMG monsters for people who thought “maintenance budget” was a philosophical debate. But the SL500 is the one that makes the most sense. It has the authority the chassis deserves without the terrifying cost and complexity of the twelve-cylinder cars.

The SL500’s heart is the M119: a 4,973 cc, 32-valve, quad-cam V8. Read the figure off one market’s paperwork and it says roughly 315 horsepower; read another’s and it creeps up toward 322. That spread is a measurement-standard argument, not an engine one — the hardware is the same muscular, over-built V8 either way, spinning up somewhere around 345–347 lb-ft of torque. For the run-out model years Mercedes swapped the M119 for the M113 5.0, a less exotic but famously bulletproof unit rated closer to 302 hp — and the reference books genuinely disagree on whether that change landed for 1998 or 1999. None of it changes the verdict: the M119 car is the one enthusiasts hunt for.

This is not a frantic engine. It does not scream at you. It does not beg for redline. It has that old Mercedes V8 confidence — smooth, muscular, slightly aloof. It feels like it could run all day at high speed because, frankly, that is exactly what it was designed to do.

The SL500 does not explode forward like the Jaguar XKR. It gathers itself and goes. The throttle response is measured, the gearbox is smooth, and the car builds speed with the emotional urgency of a man who owns the building he just walked into.

That is not a criticism. That is the appeal.

IV. Driving the R129: a continent crusher, not a corner puppy

The best way to understand the R129 is to imagine it at night on an empty autobahn.

The headlights stretch forward. The V8 settles into a deep, low hum. The cabin goes quiet. The body does not tremble. The steering does not dart. The hood stretches ahead of you like the deck of a private yacht.

At 90 mph, it feels calm. At 120, it still feels calm. At 140, it feels as if the car is quietly asking why you are making such a fuss.

Period reviewers understood this. They treated the R129 as a generational leap over the R107 — cleaner design, deeper engineering, far more safety, real speed — and they kept reaching for the same word to describe how it behaved at pace: unflappable. That word is perfect. The SL500 is not dramatic. It is sovereign.

On a back road, the story changes. The R129 can hustle, but it does not shrink around you. The nose is long. The mass is real. The steering is accurate but not intimate. The brake pedal is firm, the body control good, but the car always reminds you that it was built to cross nations, not attack hedgerows.

In Wales, on a damp, narrow, twisting road with sheep acting like local traffic enforcement, the SL500 feels large. It can be satisfying, but you guide it rather than fling it. It rewards smoothness. It wants you to brake early, set the nose, feed in torque, and let the rear suspension do its composed, expensive work.

It is not a scalpel. It is a beautifully balanced ceremonial sword.

V. The high points of the R129

The R129 has aged well because its virtues were never trendy. They were fundamental.

The design, from Bruno Sacco’s Mercedes era, is clean, formal, and balanced. It avoids ornament. It does not beg. It simply exists with authority. The proportions are right: long hood, compact cabin, strong shoulders, squared-off German elegance. Just enough 1990s geometry to feel period-correct, and just enough restraint to feel timeless.

The build quality is the second miracle. Doors close with that famous Mercedes density. Switches have weight. The cabin feels designed by people who believed materials should last longer than fashion cycles.

The technology is the third miracle. The R129’s hidden roll bar, hydraulic roof, integrated seats, optional ADS, and serious safety structure made it one of the most advanced open cars of its time. Today, those systems give it character. They make it feel like a mechanical event rather than a disposable appliance.

And the M119-era SL500 has a particularly sweet reputation. It gives you enough power, enough sophistication, enough speed, and enough durability to feel like the “right” R129.

VI. The low points of the R129

The R129 is not perfect. It just wears imperfection very well.

First, it is heavy. There is no way around it. You feel the weight in quick transitions and tight roads. It is not a playful car in the way a smaller sports car is playful.

Second, the steering is dignified rather than delicious. If you want fingertips buzzing with road texture, this is not your machine.

Third, complexity matters. The hydraulic top system can leak. ADS-equipped cars can become expensive if neglected. Some 1990s Mercedes models, R129s included, are known for biodegradable wiring-harness insulation, particularly in the 1993–1998 window. Buyer’s guides consistently flag that wiring-harness deterioration and soft-top hydraulic-cylinder trouble are the classic R129 concerns.

Fourth, the R129’s abundance affects its emotional value. Jaguar always had individuality because Jaguar was never as clinically universal as Mercedes. A Jaguar feels chosen. A Mercedes SL can sometimes feel acquired.

That is not fair, but emotion rarely is.

VII. Best R129 years and models

For most people, the SL500 is the R129 to buy.

The 1996 to early 1998 SL500 is arguably the enthusiast sweet spot: the desirable M119 V8, the later updates, and the five-speed automatic. It feels like the mature version of the original concept.

The 1999–2002 SL500 is the practical choice. These later cars used the M113 V8, which is less exotic than the M119 but widely respected for durability and lower drama. If you want to drive the car often and worry less, a clean later SL500 makes a lot of sense.

The collectible choices are the AMG variants: the SL60 AMG, the SL73 AMG, and the other rare high-performance cars. They are fascinating, but they are not casual purchases. They belong to people who consider parts invoices a form of literature.

The V12 SL600 is magnificent, but it is also the kind of car that can turn a romantic purchase into a financial hostage situation. Buy one only if you really want the V12 experience and have the budget to support it.

The real advice is simple: buy condition, history, and documentation over year. A cheap R129 is rarely cheap for long.

VIII. Now, the Jaguar: the 1998 XKR

If the Mercedes is engineering discipline, the Jaguar XKR is seduction with a supercharger.

The XK8 arrived in the mid-1990s as Jaguar’s long-awaited return to sensual grand-touring form. It carried echoes of the E-Type, inherited some grand-touring spirit from the XJS, and wrapped everything in a shape — drawn in Jaguar’s studio under design chief Geoff Lawson, with one eye firmly on the E-Type — that still looks expensive today. Under the skin, it shared its bones with the Aston Martin DB7; both grew out of the same stillborn XJ41 project, itself spun off a modified XJ-S platform.

Then in 1998 Jaguar added the magic letter: R. (It reached American driveways as a 1999 model, but the world first met it in 1998.)

The XKR debuted with a supercharged version of Jaguar’s new AJ-V8. Jaguar’s launch material described it as using the same 4.0-liter supercharged V8 as the XJR sedan, with an Eaton M112 supercharger, air-to-liquid intercooling, 370 bhp, and 387 lb-ft of torque. Jaguar quoted a 0–60 mph time in the low fives (roughly 4.9–5.2 seconds, depending on the stopwatch) for the coupe and an electronically limited 155 mph.

That made the XKR properly fast. Not “pretty car fast.” Not “gentleman’s express fast.” Actually fast.

Car and Driver put it well: despite the spectacular looks, it was the engine’s magnificence that defined the car. Their coupe was seriously swift — 60 mph in 5.2 seconds and the quarter-mile in 13.8 at 105 mph — and quietly devastating with it.

And that is the XKR: old-world glamour with a blower under the bonnet.

IX. The engineering: old Jaguar romance, new Jaguar muscle

The 1998 XKR is not just an XK8 with more boost. It received chassis and performance upgrades to handle the extra power.

The engine is the centerpiece: a 4.0-liter, 32-valve, all-aluminum AJ-V8 with forced induction. The Eaton supercharger gives it immediate torque, while air-to-liquid intercooling keeps the intake charge under control. The blower itself is an Eaton M112 — the very same Roots-type unit Ford bolted onto the supercharged V8 in its SVT F-150 Lightning pickup — spinning here at 1.9 times engine speed and stuffing in nearly 11.6 psi of boost. The result is not peaky. It is not nervous. It is a wave.

The gearbox was a five-speed automatic. In the supercharged XKRs of this era, that transmission was robust and well-suited to the engine’s torque-rich character. It does not snap shifts like a modern dual-clutch, but it suits the car’s personality. The XKR is not asking you to chase tenths. It is asking you to arrive quickly and look excellent doing it.

The suspension was fully independent, and the XKR came with Jaguar’s CATS adaptive damping as standard. The steering was rack-and-pinion with speed-related assistance — a different philosophical approach from the Mercedes’ recirculating-ball setup. Jaguar’s brochure lists variable-ratio, speed-related power-assisted rack-and-pinion steering with 2.8 turns lock-to-lock.

So where the Mercedes filters and stabilizes, the Jaguar communicates and charms. The XKR feels more alive, but also less impervious. It has more body language. It breathes with the road. It rolls and settles. It surges.

It is not as structurally solemn as the Mercedes. It is not as bank-vault exact. But it has something the Mercedes does not always have: flirtation.

X. Driving the XKR: velvet over violence

The XKR’s great trick is that it feels elegant and slightly naughty at the same time.

Press the throttle and the Jaguar answers with torque, supercharger whine, and that long-hood surge that makes the horizon feel suddenly negotiable. The Mercedes V8 is smoother and more reserved. The Jaguar’s blown V8 has more theater. It does not scream; it inhales.

On the autobahn, the XKR feels lower, sleeker, more predatory. The Mercedes feels like it was designed for the autobahn by engineers who measured wind noise with religious seriousness. The Jaguar feels like it was designed for the autobahn by someone who had once seen a Spitfire, a Savile Row suit, and a tax bill, then decided the answer was more boost.

Both will sit at high speed. Both are limited around 155 mph. But they do it differently.

The SL500 is calmer. It feels less impressed with itself. It gives you stability, silence, and the sense that every component was overbuilt by committee.

The XKR feels faster even when the numbers are not wildly different. It has more drama at the throttle, more visual theater from the cabin, and more of that old Jaguar sensation that you are not driving a machine so much as encouraging an animal.

On a backcountry road in Wales, the Jaguar comes into its own — especially as a coupe. It is still a grand tourer, still not a lightweight, still wide enough to make stone walls look judgmental. But the rack-and-pinion steering, the supercharged torque, and the lower seating position give it a more intimate feel than the SL. You lean on the engine, let the suspension settle, and ride the torque out of corners.

The Mercedes is the better car if the road gets ugly, fast, and long. The Jaguar is the more memorable car if the road gets beautiful, damp, and slightly unreasonable.

XI. The XKR interior: romance before ergonomics

This is where Jaguar fights dirty.

The Mercedes interior is superb. It is logical, durable, sober, and beautifully built. The R129’s cabin feels like a control room for a very expensive decision. Everything is where it should be. Everything works with a certain German seriousness. The seats are excellent. The driving position is commanding. The materials are honest. The ergonomics make sense.

The Jaguar interior is not like that.

The Jaguar is leather, walnut, curves, atmosphere. It is less “driver-focused cockpit” and more “private club that happens to have 370 horsepower.” The wood is not an accent. It is a worldview. The dash wraps and flows. The gauges sit in a more romantic environment. The center stack is not as clinically perfect as the Mercedes, but it is warmer.

The Jaguar’s ergonomics are not flawless. The seating position can feel high to some drivers. The rear seats are theoretical, useful mainly for bags, jackets, or children who have done something wrong. The cabin packaging is less efficient than the Mercedes, and the fit and finish can vary more with age and care.

But the ambience is tremendous. This is the luxury of time: when interiors had more wood than a carpentry class, when dashboards were designed around romance instead of merely engineered around the driver, when a car could be fast and still feel like it had read poetry badly but sincerely.

XII. The XKR’s high points

Beauty is the obvious one. The first-generation XK shape has aged beautifully. It is not aggressive in the modern sense. It is sensual. Long hood, low roof, soft haunches, oval grille, and a shape that seems drawn rather than surfaced.

Then there is individuality. The Mercedes may be the better-known default choice, but the Jaguar feels more personal. Pull up in an R129 and people think you have taste. Pull up in an XKR and people think you have a story.

The engine is the next high point. The supercharged AJ-V8 gives the car the performance the body always promised. It is effortless but exciting, refined but mischievous.

The value is another. XKRs remain underappreciated compared with many European performance GTs. That is changing slowly, but they still offer enormous charisma for the money.

XIII. The XKR’s low points

The XKR is a Jaguar from an era when Jaguar was improving quickly, but not yet immune to the old jokes.

Early AJ-V8 cars carry specific concerns. Buyer’s guides continue to flag Nikasil bore-liner issues on the earliest engines and plastic timing-chain tensioners as items to check carefully, especially with no proof of updated parts. Tensioner failure can be serious, and the later metal-tensioner update is strongly preferable; gearbox service history deserves the same scrutiny.

And then there is the thing nobody wants to hear about a Jaguar: rust. The X100 has a steel body, and two decades on, corrosion is the single biggest thing standing between you and a good one. Check the front footwells and the little dirt-trapping panel beneath them, the sills, the jacking points, and — most expensively — the front subframe mounts and the rear suspension anchor points. A pretty XKR hiding a rotten subframe leg is not a bargain; it is a project wearing a cocktail dress.

The CATS adaptive suspension is wonderful when healthy but can become expensive when tired. Bushings, dampers, sensors, and wiring all matter. These cars are now old enough that condition overwhelms reputation.

The convertible is gorgeous, but the coupe is the purer driver’s car. Less flex, better shape, better grand-touring mood. If the SL is naturally an open car, the XKR arguably looks and feels most resolved as a coupe.

XIV. Specs at a glance

Factory and period specification data put the two cars in the same grand-touring universe, but with very different personalities. The numbers favor the Jaguar in acceleration. The Mercedes answers with structure, serenity, and that unmistakable “nothing can hurt me” feeling.

XV. Autobahn: Germany’s home turf

On the autobahn, the SL500 is in its cathedral.

This is where the car makes the most sense. Big speed, big road, long sightlines, no need to constantly change direction. The Mercedes settles down, lowers its voice, and simply goes. It feels expensive at 120 mph in a way many modern cars only feel fast. The R129’s genius is that it removes drama from speed without removing dignity.

You sit upright, relaxed, the leather seat holding you properly, the hood star pointing forward like a tiny diplomatic flag. The steering is calm. The body is quiet. The suspension breathes over expansion joints. It is not exciting in the cheap sense. It is exciting because it feels competent beyond your immediate needs.

The Jaguar can run the autobahn too, and it has the more addictive engine. The XKR’s supercharger gives it stronger punch, and the coupe shape feels sleek and planted. But it is more emotional. You are more aware of the engine, the shape, the occasion. The Mercedes makes 130 mph feel like policy. The Jaguar makes it feel like a headline.

For the autobahn, the Mercedes is the more natural citizen. The Jaguar is the more glamorous tourist.

XVI. Wales: Britain strikes back

Now move them to Wales.

Narrow road. Wet stone walls. Moss. Sheep. A ribbon of tarmac that looks like it was poured by someone avoiding both a mountain and a pub.

Here the Jaguar starts making its case.

The XKR feels more alive on a road like this. The steering has more immediacy. The engine gives you that shove from low revs. The car feels like it wants to play, even if it is still a heavy grand tourer. You do not throw it around like an Elise, but you can breathe with it. Brake, turn, settle, boost. The rear squats. The nose points. The engine pulls.

The Mercedes is less eager here. It is capable, but it prefers dignity. Tight, damp roads make the SL500 feel wide and substantial. The steering does not provide the same intimacy, and the car’s weight is harder to ignore. It is still satisfying if driven smoothly, but it does not flirt with the scenery the way the Jaguar does.

XVII. Fit, finish, and how each car makes you feel

This is where the comparison becomes less about numbers and more about identity.

The Mercedes is better built. Not just “better” in the obvious sense, but better in the obsessive, structural, almost moral sense. The R129 feels like Mercedes engineers were trying to make a convertible that could survive a minor geopolitical event. The switches, doors, seats, roof mechanism, and body structure all communicate seriousness.

The Jaguar is more beautiful inside. Even when the Mercedes is objectively better assembled, the Jaguar feels more special. The cabin glows. The wood has depth. The leather has warmth. The design has romance. It is not perfect ergonomically, but perfection is not always the point.

The Mercedes makes you feel successful. The Jaguar makes you feel interesting. The Mercedes says: “I have arrived.” The Jaguar says: “I may be late, but you’ll want to know why.”

XVIII. The R129’s strange second coming

The R129 is having its moment because the world has changed around it.

For years, it was just an old SL. Too common to be exotic — this was, after all, once the best-selling convertible on the planet, a record it held until the humble Mazda MX-5 finally out-sold it — too expensive to neglect properly, too modern to be vintage, too old to impress the valet the way a new AMG might. It lived in that awkward middle age where great cars go to be misunderstood.

Now it looks different.

The design has cleaned itself with time. The proportions have become pure again. The technology that once seemed outdated now feels charming. The analog gauges, real buttons, hydraulic roof, hidden roll bar, and bank-vault construction all feel desirable because modern cars have become so digital, so performative, so desperate to announce themselves.

The R129 does not need to shout. It never did.

And that is why it is coming back. Not because it is the fastest SL. Not because it is rare. Not because it is perfect. But because it represents a version of Mercedes-Benz that people miss: formal, intelligent, overbuilt, discreetly wealthy, and engineered with almost unreasonable pride.

XIX. The Jaguar’s permanent advantage: individuality

The Jaguar has something the Mercedes cannot quite replicate: the sense that it was never the obvious choice.

That has been Jaguar’s blessing and curse forever. Mercedes built the car that made sense. Jaguar built the car that made you turn around after parking it.

The XK8 and XKR were not perfect cars, but perfection can be boring. The Jaguar has grace. It has the kind of elegance that does not come from panel-gap precision alone. It comes from line, proportion, mood, and heritage.

The XK shape looks like it belongs outside a hotel in the rain. It looks like it should be driven at night. It looks like it should have a complicated owner.

XX. 2026 price guide: SL500 R129 vs. Jaguar XKR

As of 2026, both cars remain surprisingly attainable — but the good examples are pulling away from the tired ones, and the ceiling keeps rising. On Classic.com, the R129 SL500 market runs through the high-teens, with running project cars trading from a few thousand dollars and clean, sorted examples settling in the low-to-mid twenties. The exceptional stuff has started making headlines: a low-mile 1999 SL500 Sport changed hands for $117,000 in early 2026.

First-generation XKRs sit in similar territory. Most usable cars run from the low teens into the twenties, the best coupes and low-mile cars reach into the thirties, and a standout 1999 XKR sold for $82,000 in late 2025. This is still enormous car for the money.

The Mercedes has a wider spread because there are more cars, more conditions, more trims, and more special editions. The Jaguar’s market is smaller and more emotional. The best XKRs are already being recognized — especially coupes, special editions, and cars with documented engine and suspension care.

XXI. So which one?

There is no clean winner. There should not be.

The Mercedes-Benz R129 SL500 is the car you buy when you want confidence. It is for the person who values engineering, structure, dignity, and calm. It is for long roads, good coats, proper maintenance records, and the quiet pleasure of owning something built by people who took themselves seriously for good reason.

The Jaguar XKR is the car you buy when you want romance. It is for the person who values beauty, occasion, sound, mood, and the slight thrill of imperfection. It is for late nights, wet roads, old hotels, and walking away from the car slowly because you want one more look.

The Mercedes is probably the better machine. The Jaguar may be the better memory. And that is the whole point.

At one stage of life, you may want the SL500 because it feels like order. It reassures you. It says the world can be managed, polished, insured, and made quiet. At another stage, you may want the XKR because it feels like escape. It says the world is still romantic, still unreasonable, still capable of surprise.

Germany won the beer. Britain won the humor. Both lost, at least historically, when dinner was involved. But when it came to cars like these, both countries won.

The only question is whether you want to arrive in a tuxedo or a smoking jacket.