Keeping The Faith

ALMOST NO CARS remain iconic through generations, but I can think of a few that have, and along with the Mercedes S-Class and the Subaru Forester, the Volvo wagon is one of them.

- Jamie Kitman

Cars become iconic when they broadcast so much to so many so quickly about a car and the person driving it—most of it admirable and good, though virtue can and will be flipped back on itself. The quotable quote of the far right Club for Growth from earlier this century comes to mind, when they castigated anyone to the political left of Mississippi’s most stone aged legislator as a “tax-hiking, government expanding, latte-drinking, sushi-eating, Volvo-driving, New York times reading, body-piercing, Hollywood-loving, left-wing freak show.”

So there is that price to pay for success.

Iconic status adheres when a car’s purity of purpose lands it at the perfect intersection of reality and marketing. A franchise—and often a brand—is built right at that spot.

Understandably, it’s an easy quality to lose. By way of sad example, think Mini, which has gone from Mini to Not Mini in but a few car lives. Such a squandering of goodwill, the BMW-stan’s bulbous current lineup discards the compelling minimalism of its iconic predecessors (a dwindling quality from the start) and then stomps all over it, psychographically speaking. And all the advertising in the world can’t change that.

Against the tide for more than 50 years, Volvo wagons have kept the faith. As discussed elsewhere in this issue, the new V90 carries the company’s wagon torch ably upmarket. The company deserves to be commended for a job well done. And this most crucial test: I seriously wish I could afford one.