Analysis of recent luxury car logo redesigns reveals contrasting approaches: Bentley’s thoughtful evolution of its Winged B emblem maintains heritage whilst embracing modernity, while Jaguar’s radical rebrand abandons iconic visual cues in favour of a complete reset. I examine why respectful modernisation trumps revolutionary change in automotive branding.
For car design geeks and brand enthusiasts there’s a certain thrill when a legendary carmaker unveils a new logo. It’s a statement of intent, a signal that the brand is moving forward, but also a test of how well it can balance progress with heritage. Recent months have given us a masterclass in how to get it right (Bentley) and how to get it… well, not so right (Jaguar).
Bentley: An Evolution, Not Revolution
Bentley’s new ‘Winged B’ emblem is a study in respectful modernisation. For only the fifth time in more than a century, the Crewe-based marque has refreshed its badge, making it sharper, more dramatic, and inspired by the angular wings of a Peregrine Falcon. Gone are the lower feathers, replaced by a cleaner silhouette and a central ‘B’ jewel that wouldn’t look out of place on a luxury watch. Yet, crucially, the badge is still unmistakably Bentley: the wings, the oval, the ‘B’ all present and correct, just reimagined for a new era.
This is the art of brand evolution. Bentley’s designers have managed to make the logo feel fresh and progressive without losing the emotional resonance that comes from over a century of motoring history. The new emblem is versatile enough for digital and physical use, but it’s still rooted in the DNA that made Bentley a byword for British luxury.
Jaguar: A Leap Too Far?
Jaguar, on the other hand, has taken a very different route. In a bold bid to reposition itself as a high-end electric luxury brand, it has dropped the iconic ‘growler’ face from its grilles and introduced a new suite of logos: a stylised, angular ‘leaper’, a circular monogram, and a modernist typeface mixing upper and lowercase letters. The new look is crisp and contemporary, but it’s also a radical departure from the brand’s visual legacy.
This rebrand is all about a reset – Jaguar wants to shed its past and create a new identity for a new era. But in doing so, it’s lost much of what made the marque instantly recognisable. The leaping cat and the ‘growler’ weren’t just logos; they were symbols of British motoring pride, aspiration, and a certain feline elegance. The new branding, while technically accomplished, has left many loyalists cold and confused.
The Perils of Ditching Heritage
Bentley’s approach shows the power of evolution over revolution. By retaining core visual cues and subtly modernising them, the brand keeps its history alive while signalling progress. Jaguar, by contrast, has opted for a clean break, a move that may appeal to some, but risks alienating those who loved what the brand stood for.
There’s a lesson here for any established marque: logos are more than just graphics. They’re emotional touchstones, repositories of memory and meaning. Change them too much, and you risk severing the connection with your most passionate supporters.
As the car industry races towards an electric future, expect more badges to be flattened, simplified, and digitised. See also Renault in recent months. But if Bentley’s new wings are anything to go by, the best brands will find a way to fly forward without forgetting where they came from. Jaguar, for now, might be left chasing its own tail.
There was once a time when a supermini was a matter of necessity, not indulgence. The 1970s gave us the first Renault 5 a pert little pâtisserie of pressed steel and whimsy in vivid colours, every bit as much at home dodging gendarmes in a subtitled film fantasy as it was rusting gracefully on the fringes of Calais. Fiat, of course, had its own proletarian darling, the original 500, its rear-engined, frugally upholstered buzzbox or colloquially in the Coulter household ‘fart box’ – but nonetheless a model long synonymous with post-war Italian redemption.
Fast forward five decades and we arrive at a curious juncture. Both marques, veterans of automotive egalitarianism, have chosen to reinstate their icons as electric cars (EV) the Fiat 500e appearing first, in 2021, to much fanfare and fawning from urbanites and influencers flown out to test it and now, Renault’s thoroughly modern reinterpretation of the 5 arrives, seemingly sculpted from the same nostalgia-drenched clay. But only one has truly understood the brief.
Let’s examine why, first of all heritage vs homage. Fiat’s 500e is undeniably adorable. Styled with exquisite reverence to Dante Giacosa’s original shape, it trades mightily on its cuteness and perceived Italian flair. But beneath the surface, the car is more pastiche than progression. It is a fashion statement, not a philosophical one.
Yet perhaps this misses the point entirely. Fiat’s approach wasn’t born from ignorance of mass-market electrification, but from a calculated decision to position the 500e as a premium lifestyle product. In urban environments where the 500e primarily operates, its design excellence becomes a genuine strength. The car’s visual impact is undeniable, its ability to turn heads and spark conversations in city centres is precisely what many buyers actually want. When parking space is at a premium and daily commutes rarely exceed 30 miles, the 500e’s boutique-like character transforms from apparent weakness into selling point.
The interior, whilst admittedly compact, demonstrates genuine attention to detail and material quality that feels authentically Italian. The premium feel isn’t accidental, it’s strategic. Fiat understood that electrification offered an opportunity to move upmarket, to transform the 500 from economy car to desirable urban accessory. In Chelsea or Notting Hill, this strategy makes perfect sense.
Renault, by contrast, has dug deeper. The new 5 EV does not merely mimic its predecessor, it reinterprets it. The original 5 was a clever, modular platform that underpinned everything from the humdrum TL to the tempestuous Turbo. It was pragmatic yet cheeky. The new car carries this spirit not in shape alone (though that face is exquisitely reimagined), but in function: it is a clever, resolutely French attempt at democratic electrification, not just a rolling Instagram post.
Secondly, beneath the skin let’s compare engineering. Fiat’s 500e is built upon a bespoke EV platform, dubbed “Mini BEV.” It offers a 42kWh battery, up to 199 miles of range (WLTP), realistically 148 (I owned one for two years) and a single front-mounted motor delivering 117bhp. It is whisper-quiet, beautifully finished especially as my car in top ‘La Prima’ trim, and drives with a certain Mediterranean élan but when the government subsidy dried out became expensive for what it is.
Renault’s 5 EV rides atop the all-new CMF-B EV platform, shared with the forthcoming Nissan Micra EV. It too features a 52kWh battery option (with a 40kWh entry-level variant with range almost mid to top 500e level), promising a range up to 250 miles. Even adjusting for ‘real world’ alone marks a step beyond Fiat’s offering. Moreover, the Renault tips the scales at just 1,450kg some 100kg less than the 500e, due to clever packaging and a refusal to bloat the body with frivolous weight. A gold star from this Chapman ‘add lightness’ acolyte who really struggles with EVs on the scales.
Renault have also opted for a synchronous motor with a wound rotor technically more complex but free of rare earth magnets, which makes it both greener and a subtle exercise in Gallic engineering pride.
Thirdly let’s look at matters inside. The Fiat’s cabin is charming in the same way a Dolcé & Gabbana kitchen appliance is charming. But it is tight, rear accommodation is lacking, and the boot is more gesture than utility. Materials, though pleasant to the touch, drift into lifestyle accessory territory. The 500e is less a car, more a boutique on wheels but in fairness at launch in top trim one of the closest models to evoke the spirit of (ironically) Renault’s Monaco-Baccara-Initiale car as fashion brand ideal.
The Renault 5, however, feels engineered with a more adult sense of purpose. Its cabin is roomier, more rational, yet still playfully detailed. The pixel-matrix dashboard graphics and central avatar (dubbed “Reno”, a digital Gallic shrug in anthropomorphic form) are delightfully French in their eccentricity, but not at the expense of ergonomics or comfort. Predisposed with Google Maps, Google Assistant and Google Play it’s a great leap forward in convenience and easily recognisable tech. The car’s multimedia system ‘openR link’ provides a seamless and customizable interface for all Google connected services
On to dynamics and driving. Neither car is built for Nürburgring glory, but here again Renault shows more depth. The 5 EV’s steering is light but precise, its ride supple yet controlled. It feels composed at speed in a way the 500e doesn’t quite manage. Fiat’s car, while sprightly in a scurry, lacks the damping sophistication to settle itself on rougher A and B-roads. Ride is killed by the semi-run flat seventeens with stiffer low profile sidewalls beloved of designers wanting to make a statement in a new car showroom.
That said, the 500e’s urban capability shouldn’t be underestimated. Its compact dimensions and tight turning circle make it genuinely excellent for navigating congested city streets. The instant torque delivery, whilst less sophisticated than Renault’s implementation, provides perfectly adequate performance for town work. In London traffic, the 500e’s party trick of near-silent operation combined with its striking appearance creates a surprisingly satisfying driving experience.
Renault, by contrast, understands that electric torque delivered abruptly must be tamed, not merely unleashed.
And let us not forget regenerative braking. The 5 EV offers multiple levels, with a true one-pedal drive mode, while the 500e’s regen is more brutal and unsophisticated. For the discerning driver, that matters not merely for efficiency, but for fluidity and passenger comfort.
Fiat’s 500e was, at launch, widely praised. It won a slew of accolades from EV magazines to Marie Claire and a nod in the World Urban Car of the Year awards. It is undeniably chic and competent, particularly in cities. It also played a short burst of very European classical music after the day’s first fifty metres
But Renault’s new 5 has already garnered a 2025 Car Of The Year, the Design Award at the 2024 Geneva Motor Show, and is being positioned not just as a halo car, but the spearhead of Renault’s mass-market EV strategy. Where Fiat’s car is a boutique item, Renault’s is an attempt at mobility for the many, a return to form reminiscent of the R5’s original purpose.
And, most crucially, Renault has priced the 5 EV more aggressively, £22995 for the Evolution base model, with Techno top trims just beneath the £30000 mark. Fiat’s 500e, particularly in its lauded La Prima trim, can stretch well past that. In an era where electric adoption is still handbraked by cost (and potential eye-watering depreciation), this is no small distinction.
In summary, the Fiat 500e is a fine car, as mentioned I ran one for a couple of years and really enjoyed the performance and features of what was my first foray into EV ownership. Its design excellence remains genuinely impressive, and for urban dwellers seeking a premium electric experience, it delivers precisely what was promised. But unfortunately it is not the future – it is an echo.
Renault’s new 5 EV, by contrast, is a forward-thinking machine draped in historical allusion. It is clever, dynamic, well-priced, well equipped and fundamentally imbued with the same spirit that made the original such a quietly revolutionary car.
Fiat built a retro trinket. Renault has built a car and in the process, they’ve done something far more valuable than resurrect an icon, they’ve reminded us that, done properly, the humble hatchback still matters.
