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  The '55 Custom Royal Lancer was dressed in pink and dubbed the 'Dodge-La-Femme' Photo Gallery

Sure... the big picture is respect, equal share of housework and a great pair of shoes. But the really important question is: what do women want in a car?

And that’s something that keeps carmakers tossing and turning at night, because they’re well aware that women choose more than half the vehicles sold – all the ones they buy for themselves, and also most of the ones that are bought by households.

Sorry, fellas. It’s true. No matter how much you want that souped-up sportscar. Unless SHE agrees, you may as well back away from the vehicle now, sir.

One of the most blatant grabs for the female market was the mid-50s Dodge La Femme. It was actually a 1955 Dodge Custom Royal Lancer under the skin, but the Detroit designers camouflaged that skin as thoroughly as a make-up artist for the Milan catwalks.

And the first bait they used? Pink, of course. The colour universally agreed to be female, and lumbered on us from the cradle. A short stroll through the rosy glow of the girls’ aisle in any toy store shows the colour indoctrination starts early. Everything in pink: stuffed toys, dolls, prams – and, further into the career-training section: play stoves, brooms, vacuum cleaners... even a pink draining rack and dishmop.

So it’s no surprise the La Femme was decked out in pink paint, with an interior covered in pink vinyl, set off by pink rosebud tapestry. And to show that this was not merely a cynical marketing exercise, Dodge kitted out the car with accessories that reflected the growing independence of women moving into meaningful career paths: a pink handbag complete with office essentials like a matching powder compact, lipstick case and comb.

Because the La Femme sales figures were never separated out from the Custom Royal Lancer, it’s impossible to tell how many were sold. But estimations run as low as less than 1000. But the pink disaster being quickly dropped from the Dodge range at the end of the following year probably gives an indication of how successful it was.

However it fared better than the 2004 Volvo YCC concept car. Designed by women, and featuring a host of features that those women said they wanted – and that the women and men who saw the car applauded.

Some of the more general ones – automatic doors, parking assistance, diagnostics and service warnings – have since appeared in later cars. But the more female-specific features, such as the ponytail-holder channel in the driver’s seat, vanished without a trace.

Volvo never intended to put the show car into production. And that’s the key to the whole problem, really.

Carmakers might wrestle with insomnia, drown themselves in the chatter of focus groups, and spend obscene amounts on surveys and studies, all to supposedly find out what women want.

But what’s the point? We’ve got as much chance of seeing that ponytail holder as we have of seeing men do their share of the housework.  Less chance, even – if it’s mathematically possible to conceive of a probability so miniscule.