The Jaguar rebrand has been dreadfully misconceived. The fatal mistake? Throwing away their heritage, writes Eliot Wilson
The Jaguar name first appeared on a car 89 years ago, the 100 model saloon produced by William Lyons’s SS Cars. The unfortunate resonance of those letters saw the company renamed Jaguar Cars in 1945, but it indicates the marque’s history, and it was in part the weight of that history which led to the unveiling last week of a new logo and branding. The launch caught the attention of the media, but for the wrong reasons: the most common reactions have been derision and incredulity.
The company’s new logo shows off its modernity with random capitalisation, styling itself “JaGUar” in what it calls its “signature”. The press release spares no pretension or self-regard, calling the logo “a powerful celebration of modernism – geometric form, symmetry and simplicity – demonstrating the unexpected by seamlessly blending upper and lowercase characters in visual harmony”. There is also a redesigned (sorry, “newly reimagined”) version of the famous leaping cat icon, “a representation of excellence and hallmark of the brand”.
In case this empty and overblown design verbiage was not enough, we are told solemnly that “Jaguar’s transformation is defined by Exuberant Modernism” and is guided by an “ethos to Copy Nothing”. This is a nod to the belief of William Lyons that a Jaguar should be “a copy of nothing”, though it is hard to imagine what the Blackpool-born engineer, whose first passion was motorcycle sidecars, would have made of the new branding.
The man behind the rebrand
The final element of the story is the glee of right-wing media outlets like The Daily Mail which have turned their attention to Jaguar’s head of brand strategy, Santino Pietrosanti. He is perfectly cast for their purposes, a Boston University graduate who lives outside Milton Keynes with his Scottish husband Paul and a cockapoo called Mia.
Last month Pietrosanti spoke at the Attitude Awards, which Jaguar sponsored, and promised that the rebrand would embody “new ways of thinking and embracing the full spectrum of human potential and creativity”. He added that “at Jaguar we proudly stand with the LGBTQ+ community because we know that originality and creativity thrives in spaces where people are free to be themselves”. Jaguar, the argument goes, has become woke.
The motivation behind Jaguar’s rebranding is straightforward: it is preparing to launch three new electric models in 2026, having already pledged to sell only EVs by next year. The F-Type sports car, the XE compact executive and the XF luxury saloon all ceased production this year, while the E-Pace and I-Pace electric SUVs will be discontinued by the end of next month. This abrupt caesura is no accident: managing director Rawdon Glover said “we need to change people’s perceptions of what Jaguar stands for… so having a fire break in between old and new is, actually, very helpful”.
What went so wrong
The manner of the rebranding is, however, dreadfully misconceived. The pretentious design and sloganeering have invited ridicule, and it is notable that the promotional video includes models impeccably diverse by race, sex and age, but does not feature an automobile. Elon Musk took time away from advising President-elect Trump to tweet acidly, “Do you sell cars?”
(Musk does, of course: in 2023, Tesla sold 1.81m cars globally. Jaguar sold 421,000.)
More fundamentally, Jaguar is attempting to capitalise on exactly the wrong aspect of its future. The company is trumpeting its switch to an all-electric range, but every one of the world’s 10 largest car makers can boast an EV offering. What makes Jaguar distinctive is its reputation, its image of luxury and heritage.
Although it has been owned by Mumbai-based Tata Motors since 2008, most of its cars are still manufactured in England, and models like the E-Type and the Mark 2 are instantly and globally recognisable. Reviewers talk about “charisma” and “the talent… inherent in British engineering”, and this year’s J.D. Power survey of the United States praised the “emotional appeal, design, and driving experience” of Jaguar models.
Heritage is one of Britain’s strongest commercial plays: think of Fortnum & Mason, Barbour, Coutts & Co, Floris, Johnnie Walker, Alfred Dunhill. Jaguar has been an effortless part of that group for decades, notwithstanding its grim period under Ford ownership. Its rebranding consciously turns away from that, without showing any coherent or commercially attractive image or narrative to replace it. The company’s new image is the hubris of immediacy: “now” is a fleeting moment when you have torched your past.