The Ferrari Luce Isn't Unattractive. It's Simply That the Future Is Dismal.

      Everything has become a contemporary reimagining of something we used to admire.

      Ferrari, cropped by the author

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      Images of the world’s first electric Ferrari, the Luce [“loo-che”], have been circulating long enough for initial reactions (the brand’s stock dipped following the car's unveiling) and a few counterpoint responses (influencers heavily invested in corporate culture are penning extensive LinkedIn posts). Most comments I’ve encountered in automotive communities express sentiments like: “Enzo is turning in his grave!” However, he wouldn’t be. If Ferrari’s founder were still alive and spotted a Luce on the road, he probably wouldn’t even glance at it. That’s the real tragedy of this meaningless vehicle. Ultimately, it mirrors the condition of the entire industry.

      The Luce’s design is approachable, neat, unoffensive, and quite forgettable. As a modern everyday vehicle, it looks acceptable. But when your brand is centered around making grand statements and your new $600,000 supercar resembles a Nissan Leaf, it raises concerns. A few commentators are referring to the Luce's appearance as “a significant risk” or a bold statement, but in truth, it’s quite the opposite. It’s a four-door everyday car—it’s the most universally marketable creation Ferrari could have made. Sure, it’ll boast enough horsepower for orbit and a price that ensures only the very wealthy will be the first buyers. But every function will be electronically operated, every display will be simulated on a screen … just like every Honda and Hyundai. Though, to be fair, Ferrari does well in making its screens look stylish. Hence the dilemma— as every car transforms into a computer, all the elements that give cars their unique character become untranslatable.

      There was some interest in the Luce following the reveal of the cockpit, and I admit I was intrigued too. “The iPhone designer made a Ferrari;” I even created a TikTok about it. Jony Ive, who contributed to many Apple products, and Marc Newson, who also worked on Apple designs and notably, the Ford 021C concept, are credited with much of the Luce’s aesthetic. Thus, it’s not surprising that the Luce resembles more a piece of consumer tech than a traditional automobile. To their credit, the designers made an effort to deviate from the typical “monolithic black mirror” giant screen-centered cockpit by integrating several smaller displays instead. However, even when those who designed the iPhone strive to maintain tactile, mechanical controls, the underlying nature of modern electric vehicles is so sleek that the car ultimately feels like a mere appliance.

      This brings me to my main point—this Ferrari isn’t unattractive. In fact, it epitomizes a current vision of what a futuristic Ferrari should be. The only issue is that today’s sleek, tech-inspired style is a stark, corporate copy-paste sanitized to an extent that it appears lifeless. A line from the intro of Weeds comes to mind.

      What exactly defines today’s sleek tech-inspired style? Observe modern washing machines, lawnmowers, homes. Nearly everything resembles either Call of Duty, EVE from Wall-E, or some fusion of the two. (The Luce falls squarely into the maternal robot category.)

      This isn’t solely about aesthetics, or even the fact that it’s an electric vehicle, or a practical mode of transportation. It’s the combination of these elements—and the realization that it’s not an original concept; it’s a contemporary version of something that previously existed. This could be said about most vehicles garnering interest lately, right? “New Bronco!” “New Defender!” There’s nothing revolutionary, just old concepts reimagined into what feels like an app icon representation.

      What the Luce highlights is how numerous facets of the consumer experience have followed this path. Compare images of McDonald’s exteriors from years past to those today. The ones we remember were vibrant and whimsical; the contemporary ones resemble external hard drives.

      Cars (and, frankly, all consumer experiences) are becoming so standardized across our reality that it’s difficult to feel excitement about anything. Every gauge cluster is simply a design overlay, every vehicle is a coupe-SUV-everything combination. Everything appears optimized for sales volume, which is inherently unexciting.

      What’s particularly disappointing is that, with billions of human beings now connected, one might anticipate a wide array of variations among cars and designs of everything else. Yet, objects persist in conforming to sans-serif soft-edge mass-market shapes with competent yet characterless foundations and an electronic barrier between you and the vehicle's functionalities. Everything is optimized to reduce production costs and maximize ongoing revenue.

      It’s somewhat ironic that Ferrari, a brand renowned for its distinctive mystique, would adopt an iPhone-like appearance.