Car & device: when four-wheelers become emotional architectures
The tactile perfection of a premium smartphone, reinterpreted with the sensory depth of a car. The game of luxury in interior design is played on the balance between digital obsolescence and the fascination of analogue durability.
by Giulia Paganoni and Mario Cianflone
The car is a smartphone on wheels. How many times have we heard this statement? It is actually not true, at least not entirely. However, in the contemporary automotive world, the boundary between design, interior layout and technology has now dissolved into a sophisticated osmosis. No longer simple ergonomic seats or functional dashboards, today's cockpits are digital microcosms, immersive environments where aesthetics, interaction and matter merge with a naturalness that is more reminiscent of a technological flagship than a means of transport. And it is no coincidence that models such as the BMW iX3 or the Volvo ES90 interpret this transition with aristocratic ease, transforming the on-board experience into pure style.
Take, for example, the Ferrari Luce: the Cavallino's new creation, developed with the sensitivity of a former Apple designer, Jony Ive, ignited an elitist debate already in its embryonic stages. The end result, apart from the overt lack of adherence to the brand's DNA, has one merit, which must be acknowledged: having created a user interface that limits touch controls and re-proposes Apple stylistic cues (perhaps in an excessive déjà vu) and above all having introduced truly premium materials such as aluminium turned from solid. All this seems to mean no more supercars with utilitarian buttons and levers because in luxury, touch and detail are everything.
Not only technologies, but also design solutions and choice of materials define the true positioning. For example, last year Samsung and Apple were competing on titanium, while today they are relaunching on aluminium and colours as confirmed by the new S26 Ultra. If you love mechanics and technical finesse, the magical hinges of the folding Oppo Find N6 or the craftsmanship of the Leizphone, Leica's smartphone signed Xiaomi, a brand that, not surprisingly, plays in the two worlds of tech: devices and electric cars.
It is not a matter of trivially integrating screens and touch surfaces, but of orchestrating a cockpit capable of speaking the language of technology without giving in to its obsolescence, which is too ephemeral for a car. Here, every curve, every reflection, every light line is conceived as part of a coherent composition, where ergonomics must be interwoven with an aesthetic destined to survive time and, above all, fashion.
The language of displays, now an inseparable stylistic feature, finds expression as much in the digital architecture of the Mercedes CLA as in the more radical visions of the Mercedes Vision. Wide surfaces, fluid interfaces, extreme customisation: everything contributes to an immediate, almost intuitive experience. Yet beneath this apparent perfection lies a more subtle, almost uncomfortable question for the luxury segment: can a display age as gracefully as a solid wood dashboard or a steering wheel covered in hand-tanned leather?
