Design review Mercedes-Benz EQE SUV: ‘just like the EQS SUV visually flabby’

From 1950, Mercedes-Benz was decidedly Teutonic. Accurately pinned bodies told about the technological gründlichkeit underneath: Legendary build quality made visual.

Through stylistic references to this glorious past, various Mercedes-Benz design chefs would celebrate, embody, the brand history in their work for many decades. Merely subtle and strategic changes were applied in model iterations, as intelligent manufacturers of premium products are characterized. With small, sure steps. With the right relevant shapes. With accurate colors and perfected materials.

Patek Philippe will therefore never manufacture pink, plastic Peppa Pig watches. With exclusive products, customers very consciously buy a part of the brand history. The inventor of the automobile will undoubtedly cherish his essential brand values ​​passionately. However?

Unfortunately. Around 2000, the grotesque decline of Mercedes-Benz began. The bankruptcy of decades of consistent design work. Generic form language and stylistically slack volumes were deployed around the turn of the century during a radical and bizarre change of course, never explained by the brand. Since then, the brand has stoically ignored all significant brand history, design elements and heritage models. As if Coca-Cola is throwing the red-black label on their typical drawn glass bottles overboard and from now on offering their soft drinks from a square tetrapak with Chocomel-blue letters on an ocher background.

Like the big EQS, the EQE SUV is visually flabby. This two box design exercise has a meaningless proportional statement.

Characteristic of the exercise is the down the road graphics: The face of the EQE consists of anonymous headlights linked to a now apparently obligatory light bar, under which a giant fake grille is screwed. The sealed ‘opening’ is as elegant as a boarded up shed. To make matters worse, this facade is flanked by equally false air intakes on the bumper corners. And even a copy under the license plate. ‘Honest’ design would indicate that this electric car does not need air. Despite this, the EQS, as noisy as other EQ models, pretends to house a huge internal combustion engine in the nose. Where does the uncertainty about the core idea come from?

The majority of pure EV manufacturers do not struggle with their message. Tesla, electric start-ups Nio, Lucid and the partially bankrupt Lightyear and even more traditional brands such as Volvo, Hyundai, Kia and Ford do not mount imitation grilles on their EVs.

Devoid on the side shutlines unique form language. Around is the surfacing weak and the graphics by greenhouse and DLO are meaningless. Kia fits her dog bone to windscreen designs of different models: an excellent example of how small things can have a big impact. Once upon a time, Mercedes-Benz also managed to impress, innovate and distinguish itself with small design elements. Like the type brightwork applied to pre-facelift W140 series B-pillar and S-class window frames. This nuanced, warm-toned, satin-gloss chrome is extremely stylish and immediately recognizable as being Mercedes material. Obviously it is missing on the EQE. This newcomer has to make do with window frames in unbranded piano black plastic.

The EQE is probably technically one of the better electric cars in its class: equipped with top quality materials and a considerable range. However, the design corrupts all efforts of the engineers: it is unfair about the subcutaneous electro innovation and thus frustrates the message, innovation and the brand DNA.

Mercedes-Benz is missing out on a phenomenal opportunity, because only a relevant further development of the famous classic Mercedes-Benz DNA will secure the future of the oldest brand story.