In Memorium: Pillarless Coupes

WHAT DO the Mercedes-Benz SLC, BMW Z3M Coupe and an early Porsche 911 Targa have in common? Answer: they are all coupes based on a cabrio (okay, the 911 Targa is a coupe based on a cabriolet based on a coupe, but if I had only mentioned the BMW and Mercedes I could be accused of favouritism).

I only noticed the connexion between the SLC and the M Coupe after I had purchased them. I think part of the appeal must be solution-based design, rather than aesthetic over-reaching, lending a quirk of rational to an otherwise emotive process. Because so many parts must be shared to keep costs down, the designer has limited options to give the coupe its own personality. Bread-van proportions did the trick for the BMW; Mercedes used lamellae windows and Porsche a bold roll-hoop with wrap-around glass. On bodies that were already familiar, details made the cars memorable.

Today it is hard to contemplate a coupe not having a bespoke bodyside. This reflects the increasing value of design as a critical factor at point of purchase, and the subsequent willingness to invest. But cash still stops flowing as soon as chopping the B-pillar is mentioned. Since the E9, BMW has tended not to bother (although the 8-series is a welcome exception), whereas Mercedes, CLK aside, always makes the effort, imbuing their coupes with the desirable 'pillarless' billing. Does this have anything to do with why their mean transaction price (the measure of premiumness) is higher?

Funny, isn't it, how something so small can make such a difference. That is why Mazda went to such efforts with the delightful 1983 929 Coupe, aka Cosmo. Quite apart from the right-angled geometry of the lines, Mazda effectively made the first split B-pillar, within which the glass descended! I can't think of a smaller window aperture post-quarterlight days. It is a bit mad, yet the car remains appealingly memorable. It is far from pillarless (it has two!) but at least Mazda took steps to ensure it wasn't just another fixed pane. If they had, I wouldn't be writing about it here. 

Collectors alert: There's one for sale here

2015 Jaguar F-Pace Would Be A Rose By Any Other Name

FOR A long time, sports cars and SUVs were incompatible: this is now irrelevant. The question is how to mate them successfully. Yet the potentially awkward marriage of two opposites has been enough to delay Jaguar’s entry into the market for a decade. Such is the restraint often forced by mindset. Yet it is hard to see how Jaguar could have made a convincing SUV using pre-XF styling cues: Jaguar needed a chunkier design language in order to accommodate niche models, which despite leaving the sedans open to criticism at last manages to bend enough for an SUV.

The Jaguar F-Pace uses the bodyside theme and rear lights from the F-Type with the face introduced by the XF. The result is a pleasingly voluminous design that though simple, is well-resolved and well-planted. Welcome, too, is the absence of an undercut shoulder which leaves German rivals feeling mainstream. One crucial way in which Jaguar is successfully building up its identity is through the super-high belt-line: it could barely get any closer to the glasshouse. This theme was introduced by the XF and has been successfully applied to every Jag since, lending a solid, quality impression, if not exactly as light and lithe as they once were.

The carry-over of F-Type cues is pure Porsche philosophy, but the F-Pace name is less agreeable. It reflects a horizontal model strategy as Jag grows out as well as up, but sounds as if rational marketing thinking has missed the character of the car: it is a little nouveau. And while there is still some debate whether the F-Type is rival to the Boxster or 911, there is no doubting that the F-Pace has the Cayenne firmly in its sights. Yet step from the Jaguar to the Porsche, and there is a richness to the bodyside of the Cayenne that leaves even the Jaguar F-Pace feeling a little flat. This impression continues inside, where the investment differences between Porsche and Jaguar are far more apparent. Given the theme laid out by this show car, there seems to be a strong chance that the interior of the production SUV will borrow from the heavily-revised XF. The five seat layout of the concept also falls two short of rivals from Mercedes-Benz and BMW. But with a delete-badge option (including JAGUAR on the tailgate) all will be forgiven: Jag has given us another stunner.

Chronodynamics Is A Drag

"CHRONODYNAMICS IS the coefficient of styling in time". Having just thought of the term, I now feel obliged to define it. As a metaphor that pertains to aerodynamics, it helps to understand why some shapes date faster than others. What does it mean to date? Let's think of design as something that creates aesthetic turbulence as time passes. The greater the degree of turbulence, the quicker the form dates, and thus the level of attactiveness decreases. For example a car whose styling is considered timeless will have a low time-drag –the Porsche 911, perhaps. It will pass through time creating minimal drag, and continue looking attractive for longer. A car such as the Chrysler PT Cruiser, by way of contrast, has dated more quickly: its aesthetic concept is bluff retro, creating greater time-drag.

There are cars, however, that share the principles of the PT Cruiser that have stayed fresher for longer, the Mini being the notable example. How is it then that the Mini still looks attractive, but the PT Cruiser is no longer desirable? Partly this is down to styling resolution in volume and proportion, but there is more: marketing momentum. A more bluff chronodynamic form relies on momentum: this can be achieved through consistency in styling themes matured in successive generations of a given product; it can also be achieved by advertising. Mini uses both to provide the impetus behind a retro projectory. The Clubman, special editions, tightly kerned Helvetica caps, and Superleggera concept all bring life to what LJK Setright described as a ‘very convincing little brick’.

Now consider a more classically timeless design, say, the Honda S2000, designed by my former boss Daisuke Sawai. Many have all but forgotten this was Honda’s 50^th birthday present to itself; there was little to no memorable ad campaign. However the S2000 endures as an attractive car over a decade since its inception. It is chronodynamically efficient. The low time drag is achieved very simply: by being very simple. Its proportions are classically revivalist –long hood, short butt –the door-section is clean, the details are sparing and the product concept –that of a two-seat sports car –is the clearest in terms of relaying the package concept through styling. I use the term classically revivalist as this was a period in Italian art history when Helenistic, Roman and Egyptian objects were referenced in everyday items such as jewellery and clothing: that is, using the past to define the identity of present day items. It is retro retro.

There were no two-seat sports cars whizzing Caesar Augustus around, and I won’t be drawn into horses-pulling-chariot analogies; instead the classicist reference the S2000 revives is the 1901 Mercedes Simplex, the bedrock of today's car. This turn-of-the-century sports car nailed the package we still use today: engine out front, long dash-to-axle, seats behind engine just in front of rear wheels, trunk out back. We take it for granted now, and it is because we take it for granted that cars that assume this description will be inherently timeless.

Visualise then, for a moment, the drag your design will create in history. A design which leans towards nostalgia will need more push –ergo a rationale to support the whimsy. Yet a design which is advanced is equally and no doubt ironically also in need of support: a bridge that takes the casual observer/potential customer from the present day scenario to a believable future context in which the given product is more relevant. The bridge must vindicate the investment. Toyota successfully did this with the Prius. The media did the hard work for them, by embedding in popular thought the impending peril of the planet. So with the future context established, Toyota created a believable solution.

It is a lot harder when the future scenario is less clear, particularly during a time of economic flatlining. All those customers who so recently worried about the plight of the environment in ten years time now turn their eyes and their wallets to ten days time when the next pay-check arrives. Companies must replace the media in outlining a future scenario if they wish to sell eco-minded products, else natural conservatism will prevail. Conservative products free of garnish are ripe for timeless themes, but it is at the expense of communicating advanced technologies through styling. Whereas once car styling once used space ships and aeroplanes to flaunt technology of the future, today advertising does this job for us instead. This allows one design to be locally targeted across a range of markets, being easier to change words than bodysides. It makes perfect economic sense. But in diluting the exterior styling by forfeiting its communicatory role to marketing, when the check has been paid and the slogans forgotten, customers could be left with products devoid of the personality promised.

2014 Audi Prologue Concept. I said, THE AUDI PROLOGUE CONCEPT

THERE ARE 15 trillion good reasons why grey is the new black, each one green-backed. Youth unemployment, stagnating wages and high personal debt means it is aging baby-boomers who will drive economic growth. You can bet your bottom dollar there will soon be myriad products designed specifically for the silver surfers. A Porsche Design stair-lift is closer than you think.

Age cannot be mentioned without health. The ‘internet of things’ means you can be sure your behaviour is being analysed. If you fail to use your Zojirushi I-Pot kettle in the morning to make tea, a relative is informed, just in case. You may not realize it, but your car is watching out for you too. It may not be pressing your hand, rolling up your sleeve or asking you to cough, but a car is fast becoming even more central to our lives, and indeed life.

A car is already a cage in which we shield ourselves to protect us from harm. Big steel pillars sealed with glass separate us from the vigour of our surroundings. Occasionally, they keep other bits of steel and glass out too. Volvo watches your eye movement: blink to often and a small coffee icon chimes to encourage a pit-stop. GM has experimented with sensors that immobilize the engine should you be over the alcohol limit. Brakes know when a wheel is slipping: if ever you’ve been caught in a downpour, traction control has been your guardian angel. Pity the Lincoln Sentinel missed exemplifying the virtue of its namesake.

So a car already does its best to keep you alive, now the goal is to improve your wellbeing. Massaging seats are just the start. They will also rise to meet you, swiveling to accept your corpulent buttocks. Augmented reality will improve visibility, and don’t worry if you never got the hang of touch-screens, buttons will fatten for rheumatic paws, or disappear in favour of voice-control. There is a long list of features that cars will have to tick-off if they are to remain relevant for an aging demographic. But what is the OAP aesthetic? Nissan Juke designers are already used to seeing their creations driven not by sk8erboiz, but by middle-aged women off to the garden centre. The raised H-point (seat height) helps: easy to get into for creaking limbs. But I wonder how many billions playful styling will garner from the trillions available. There is also the challenge of getting Gatoraded designers in the mindset of port-swilling retirees.

So how about the Audi Prologue concept? Of course it is really an A9, a name to draw Audi upmarket to target retired dentists in upstate New York. The designers are the same age as those in Nissan, but the non-niche classicist aesthetic looks suitably elitist and discerning. Over cigars at a dinner party, the A9 would be talking about campaign funds while the Juke juggles the bread rolls.

Having introduced you to my SLC earlier, I am inclined to draw comparison between it and the A9. Naturally, thirty years has brought a sea-change in proportions, but beyond this the thing that strikes you is that Audi has scored a coup with the C-pillar: the SLC’s louvred windows has been re-interpreted as the filler-cap. Audi also uses chiseled swells above each wheel to highlight Quattro provenance, but for both cars I see similarities in the classical proportions with generous brightwork that conventionally lures mature customers. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. But so far no car can stop you from driving at 15 mph in the gutter with the left-indicator blinking.

2015 Porsche Macan Is Even Better Than The Real Thing

TWO COWS standing in a field. One says to the other Are you worried about Mad Cow Disease. The other replies No, I'm a squirrel. I often think similar of car-makers, when one brand promises success in a sector where everyone else has failed. In 2002 the SUV market was still getting used to its new nomencalture: hitherto it had always been 4x4 or off-roader, or sometimes Jeep. Porsche changed all that. Where Range Rover was dutifully carrying hunters toward grouse, and The Duke of Edinburgh around his estate (possibly the same thing), in came the Cayenne with an adversion to rocks and an predilection for speed. Cheshire and Chelsea loved them, and Porsche became associated with another acronym: WAG.

These were pre-Kardashian days, when television's Big Brother was still a novelty and the financial crash inconceivable. How we ridiculed Porsche! We were so obsessed with rational, plausible products that represented easy extrapolations of our preconceptions, that the appeal of a sporty 4x4 was initially overlooked. But the Cayenne was a hit. Through it we learned an important lesson: build it and they will come (hang on, that sounds familiar). Being desirable is reason enough to warrant development. Heart over head, and all that. So what could be more desirable than a smaller, faster, sportier, sexier Cayenne? Enter the Macan.

Let's start at the front. At first, the graphics fool you into believing you are looking at the scion of a 911, lamps poised dexter et sinister to a low nose bearing  Zuffenhausen heraldry. Then you see that this is atop a sedimentary layer of inlets, splitters, fogs and black-out, all keeping as quiet as possible so that your eyes don't get distracted. The cleverly sculpted fender wraps over the lamp, where it is sunk beneath a crease to give the impression of a separate volume a la you-know-what. Another crease further inboard helps lift the centre-line so that the bonnet has the necessary engine clearance for pedestrian safely. 



The body-side is another game of seeing how high the main design theme can start. Plain, geometric carbon inserts and black-out lift the main light-catcher above knee-height, but the killer feature here is just how phat that haunch is, spilling out more than any non-911 has dared. Clever, too, is that the roofline remains quite level, rather than dipping like a coupe, providing more rear head-room inside (which is a triumph, interior fans). The fast rear-screen and metal bustle give tremendous accelerative shunt to the car, finished by tail-lights that give the finger to Mercedes, who invented, then dropped the whole rib thing long ago. 

This is the first new car in a long time that I would re-mortgage for. Bold, voluptuous, simple, detailed. Porsche has absolutely nailed it. In some ways the styling looks even more comfortable on this package than the 911. That the Porsche Macan is too heavy, too expensive, too thirsty seems to not really matter when it converts so ably the aesthetic currency of the 911 into a more usable proposition. Everything you could ever want? You'd be nuts to buy anything else.