It wasn’t always this way. “American Luxury” used to mean something. When Cadillac declared itself the “Standard of the World,” it had a legitimate claim to the title. When Lincoln claimed to offer “America’s Most Distinguished Motorcar,” people didn’t snicker. When Chrysler said it was building “America’s Most Carefully Built Car,” people believed it. Where did it all go wrong?
By my estimation, the 1970s. That’s when cost-cutting began to take hold and parts sharing became more and more common. By the end of the decade, Lincolns were rebadged Fords, Cadillacs were going front-wheel drive, and Chrysler’s luxury credentials were in tatters. Cars that used to be big, imposing status symbols became boring, slab-sided conveyances for aging folks who remembered the brands’ heydays. Meanwhile, the Germans crept in with dynamically styled luxury cars that handled better and offered a bit of badge snobbery.
Fast-forward through the dark days of the 1980s and the ‘90s weren’t looking much better. The Germans, and now the Japanese, were eating Detroit’s three-martini lunch while Cadillac and Lincoln seemed content to keep building cars for the retirement crowd who, again, remembered when the brands were at the top of their game. Things didn’t change much until the 2000s when Cadillac would decide, wisely, to spend all its Escalade money chasing the Germans. Lincoln let the LS die on the vine and instead rebadged more Fords, and here we are. Cadillac has the German-inspired CTS and the Japanese-inspired SRX carrying the flag, with the rapidly aging Escalade slowly giving ground to newer offerings like the updated Infiniti QX56. Lincoln still has rebadged Fords.
Is that what “American Luxury” means now? Doing whatever the foreign competition is doing? Rebadges? It doesn’t have to. In their day, the aspirational Cadillacs and Lincolns were imposing symbols of wealth and prestige. They were big, long, and soft because that was luxury. The luxury car customer of the era wanted to ride on clouds supported by angels while steering with a barely stressed pinkie and stretching out across the acres of seating.
That’s not to say Cadillac’s future should be in producing land yachts with all the dynamics of medium-sized blimp. Modern luxury buyers want a car that handles well, even if they’ll never challenge its abilities. Pillow-like ride quality has never gone out of vogue, so long as it’s not at the expense of handling (see: Bentley Continental). Most important is strong design. I firmly believe that Cadillac would’ve been more highly revered in the 1990s if its products weren’t as boring to look at as Camrys (the short-lived Allante not withstanding), handling and performance be damned. The Art & Science design revolution of the early 2000s proved that strong design is as important as any other aspect of a luxury car.
Cadillac has all of the necessary components, then, to see this renaissance through, and now is the perfect time. The last remnants of the old Cadillac are dying with the STS and DTS. The brand has announced a new model structure in which vehicles will offer either a high-performance V-Series variant or an ultra-luxury Platinum variant, not both. That way, cars like the CTS and the upcoming ATS can continue to challenge the sporty German competition while the SRX and upcoming XTS do battle with the plush Japanese competition. With a major upgrade, the Escalade can hold its own in the uniquely American luxury SUV segment it created. The ELR allows GM to put a price tag on Voltec technology that might actually cover costs, and buys a lot of green cred. The Ciel, then, can stand alone as the ultimate expression of modern American Luxury.
Forget a Ciel-V — this car is Platinum all the way. It would be big and roomy with space for all your friends or family. It would ride like a Bentley but corner with a bit of authority thanks to GM’s adaptive magnetorheological shocks. Its hybrid drivetrain would be powerful but smooth, and would carry a bit of green cred for the image-conscious. Most important, the striking, polarizing design would demand attention anywhere it went. Finish it off with a properly luxurious interior (no more Buick buttons, Cadillac) and there you have it. Luxury, American style. Because if you can afford this car, you can remember riding in your father’s, uncle’s, or grandfather’s Cadillac, and you remember how special it felt cruising the long, wide, straight boulevards of most American cities. You may even have a ’67 Coupe DeVille in your garage reminding you of the way things were.
Cadillac knows this. According to one former Cadillac PR rep, the brand put together a special VIP-only gathering for music and sports stars and the otherwise ultra-rich a few years ago to gauge reaction to a number of concepts. The attendees were reportedly drawn to the big, imposing cars and insisted that they had to cost just as much as the competition. When it was suggested that the Cadillacs could cost significantly less, attendees reportedly scoffed, explaining that the price alone was as much a status symbol as the vehicle itself. Ever wonder why people pay so much for an Escalade that’s really a Suburban underneath? That’s why. That’s the client the Ciel must cater to — the person who can afford a fleet of cars and wants something unique from each one.
Lincoln, meanwhile, has an even bigger opportunity. Cadillac’s finally starting to realize that truly competing in this segment means spending a lot of money and cutting few corners. If Ford can stomach the cost, Lincoln could have a bright future. The brand desperately needs to get away from the perception that all its vehicles are rebadged Fords, mostly by not rebadging any more Fords. Town Cars, despite not really being anything special, are intimately associated with limousines and chauffeurs in the American mind. World leaders and heads of multinational companies get picked up by Town Cars at the airport. You can’t buy that kind of cache. The Navigator was once a credible Escalade rival, but it’s been even more neglected. Adding EcoBoost is a good start, but only that. Lincoln should be looking very closely at the Ciel Concept, as well as its own MKR and Continental concepts, and asking where its future lies, because it’s not in MKTs. Ford has the money, but does it have the commitment? Lincoln says it does and promises seven new or improved vehicles in the near future, but the proof will be in the product.
And what of Chrysler? The new 300 is a fantastic start, but it needs to continue to grow apart from the Charger it shares so much with if it’s to gain any exclusivity. I actually applaud Chrysler for trying to build a luxury minivan, as it’s a segment few are bold enough to chase. Like the 300, though, the Town & Country needs further development to steer it away from its Dodge roots and the typical Play-Doh and french fries minivan image. As for the 200, well, do I really need to say anything? Whether Chrysler makes a serious attempt at breaking out of the entry-luxury class and taking on the big leagues depends entirely on how much money Fiat is willing to spend, and if Lancia is any indication, it won’t happen. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Entry-luxury is a big market and needs more American competition than just Buick.
Is there still a market for luxury barges? I argue that there is. America is a land of wide, straight roads and open highways. It’s a land of stoplight drag races and Friday night cruising. No one tracks an S-Class or a 7 Series, but they still buy plenty of them. In a country where how you arrive is as important as being there in the first place, the spirit of American Luxury is alive and well. Time to be good Americans and capitalize.
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