Are we forgetting what luxury is?
Premium products were not necessarily high-spec thirty years ago. They were more like a tailored suit: better wool, a finer weave, a sharper fit, working buttons on the cuffs, more hand-stitching, better structure and small details that showed someone had thought about how the thing would feel over time. A luxury car worked the same way. It was not always
made from totally different materials, but the fit, finish and attention to detail were better. The door closed with a solid clunk, the switchgear clicked into position, the dash might have had a veneer, and the boot might have opened without gas struts but still had the right balance and weight. Maybe there was more soundproofing. Maybe it had simply been engineered to last a little longer.
A luxury product used to be about quiet quality, durability, engineering depth and the confidence that the product will still feel good long after the launch brochure has gone out of date.
Photo by Danilo Capece on Unsplash
We are in a challenging position now. It is harder to know what premium means when cars are judged by performance, screen size and software features rather than engineering, design and longevity. Leather is plentiful, options abound, and many vehicles are connected, fast, quiet and feature-rich. That does not automatically make them luxurious.
I have a fear that my car will outlast its technology. One day I may have a mechanically sound car that has become digitally dumb. My house is already littered with iPads and phones that still work in theory, but the software updates have outpaced the hardware - the device has fallen behind and they are functionally useless. When 3G ended, my old BlackBerry became junk. iOS updates have rendered two iPads virtually useless. The device did not fail; the technology support failed the device. What will happen to my 15.5-inch touchscreen in 10 years? Will Ford or Tesla continue to update it? What happens if Ford does, but Google stops supporting old Android Auto platforms? That day will come. Samsung offers a support window of only around six years for a new phone, and after that the phone will probably not accept later updates. Yet cars are expected to last 15-20 years.
I do not worry that my 15-year-old BMW no longer gets software updates. It has a Bluetooth dongle and it plays music. But modern cars have digital dashboards and large screens that seem to get software updates every 12 to 18 months. Today my intelligent cruise control and AEB stopped working for no obvious reason. That is a software glitch, not a hardware failure.
Technology has a real place in our vehicles. This is not a misty-eyed argument for going back to Walkmans and blank switchgear. The question is how we make sure the product lasts longer than the software interface wrapped around it.
In New Zealand, longevity is already hard enough. UV, heat and everyday use can fade, crack and make materials brittle. If the physical parts of the car are already fighting age, the software layer cannot be allowed to become the next weak point.
As vehicles become more digital and more connected, the old luxury signals are becoming harder to read. Door handles are increasingly operated by microswitches. Dashboard buttons are being replaced by touchscreens. Driver assistance systems rely on software and sensors. If the tactile touchpoints keep disappearing, how do we separate a tech-rich Chinese EV from a genuinely luxurious vehicle?
If traditional luxury brands such as Mercedes-Benz, Audi and BMW and even Lexus feel they need to copy the technology offered by newer challengers, perhaps we are losing sight of what makes a vehicle luxurious in the first place. Maybe real luxury should be measured less by the amount of technology fitted at launch, and more by the engineering principles, support life and durability built into the vehicle from the start. If that is right, the luxury promise should not be another screen feature. It should be confidence that the car will still work properly, feel good and be supported years from now.
Product alone cannot define luxury. A luxury vehicle should come with a better ownership experience: a dealership that feels professional rather than snooty, a handover that respects the customer's time, service support that feels personal, and software support that has long-term life built in. That matters even more in the age of electric vehicles, where customers are already worried about battery life, repairability and future resale value. Luxury should reduce those worries, remove friction points and add a layer of confidence, not add another layer of uncertainty.
That is why the dealership experience matters more than ever. If the product is increasingly digital, the human part of the brand has to carry more weight, not less. Luxury should show up in how the customer is treated, how problems are handled and whether the brand stands behind the product as it ages. Have we confused tech with premium? Have we confused software with hardware?
Internal combustion vehicles already have a version of this problem. Modern engines rely on a long list of emissions-control systems that help the vehicle pass emissions tests and reduce pollution. In markets where emissions testing is enforced, a car can be forced off the road if those systems fail, even if the rest of the vehicle still works. An engine warning light is usually not an indicator of engine failure, but a warning of an emissions control device failure.
With EVs, the anxiety has often been battery life. Batteries can be replaced, and cells are likely to become more repairable and upgradeable over time. My own usage is not especially hard on the battery. My current car has a 77kWh battery and uses a public fast charger only once every two to three months. The rest of the time it charges at home. That is not the kind of use pattern that should wear a battery out quickly.
Originally, I was worried that the battery would fail and I would be left with a very expensive, very heavy rolling chassis. In reality, I now suspect the thing most likely to make my car frustrating is not range reduction. It is technology obsolescence.
If luxury is going to mean anything in the next generation of cars, it cannot just mean a bigger screen, a faster processor or another connected feature. It has to mean the vehicle has been designed to age well. The hardware, software, interface, materials, dealer experience and support life all need to be part of the same promise. Imagine if your next iPhone was still useful, supported and enjoyable after 25 years, not six or seven. That would be a true luxury experience.
In the meantime I’m going to try and find a low milage 1992 Mercedes-Benz E-Class W124 or a first generation Lexus LS.
©2026 Boost Auto.
Boost Auto is a New Zealand automotive consultancy based in Auckland. Founded by Anthony MacLean, a senior automotive executive with over 30 years of experience across the UK and New Zealand, Boost Auto works with car dealers, vehicle distributors, and OEM brands on sales performance, dealer network development, sales training, workflow automation, and market entry strategy. Boost Auto has supported brands including Ford, MG, JAC and Turners, and works with dealer groups including Colonial Motor Company, Ebbett, Andrew Simms and Tristram.
You can contact us at anthony@boostauto.co.nz
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