James Cobb is an excellent writer, although I'm sure some will take exception to certain of his opinions in this piece. (I, for instance, continue to find it ridiculous to call this a coupe.) Anyway, reproduced here in advance of publication, for the private enjoyment of BenzWorld members only [:)]
February 12, 2006
Mercedes-Benz CLS500: Curves That Carry You Away
By JAMES G. COBB, The New York Times
HIGH style can make you dizzy, and not just from seeing hemlines rise and fall or watching supermodels change out of madonna and into streetwalker. For instance, you could duck into the back of the haute-couture Mercedes-Benz CLS500 and whump the side of your face on the low-cut roof. As you slump into one of the contoured rear buckets, dazed and confused, you won't notice that there's no place for your head.
Style can be painful, but with the CLS it hurts so good. The car follows in a long tradition of masochistic couture β birdcage hairdos of 18th-century France, bound feet in China, wasp-waist Victorian corsets, stiletto heels that bring on bunions.
The CLS's discomforts pretty much begin and end with the back seats, and to be honest these take a back seat to the car's romantic, dramatic styling. Mercedes tries to defuse complaints by calling the car a "four-door coupe," even though it is pretty clearly a sedan, but the look is so luscious who wants to argue the point?
Yes, style is subjective, and the CLS is such a break from Mercedes's slab-sided tradition that some people may not like it. Yet I'll bet it still grabs their attention when it glides by, nearly a year after the first ones reached showrooms, especially in glossy black or granite gray. From some angles β the best view may be at the rear, a bit off to the side β the car is so pretty it could make you weep, the way Daisy Buchanan burst into tears at the splendor of Gatsby's gorgeous shirts.
If you are easily seduced by curves, watch out: the CLS has some terrific pickup lines. Start with the beltline that sweeps from head to tail, topped by the arc that forms the cabin's greenhouse and is echoed by a character line that begins at the front wheel well and drifts into the wraparound taillamps. While appearing to lighten the mass of a big luxury car, these lines also liberate the sedan from the box in which it used to come. In sum, the CLS has uncommon dignity and the sort of grace conveyed by only a few mass-production cars β think of the earliest Jaguar XJ6 or some prewar Packards.
The CLS also demonstrates what a niche marketer Mercedes-Benz has become. Essentially an E-Class midluxury sedan under the skin, the $65,675 CLS carries a $7,000 premium over the E500. Mercedes now has 13 distinct lines of passenger vehicles in the United States β not counting the Maybach, Smart or commercial truck divisions, or cars sold only overseas β rivaling Chevrolet and Toyota in offering a bewilderment of choices.
Some of these choices make more sense than others. In my view, the chief distinction of the R-Class "sports tourer" is that it looks more French than German. The CLS, on the other hand, is so highly designed that you expect it to speak Italian.
Fortunately, there is substance under the style. The E-Class structure is beyond reproach and the engineers added some attractions β like bigger 18-inch wheels and sportier suspension tuning β to go with the larger dimensions and extra weight.
Unlike the E-Class, the CLS doesn't come with a V-6. I tested the CLS500, with a 302-horsepower V-8 that can get the car to 60 m.p.h. in about 5.5 seconds. It is, unfortunately, rather thirsty. Rated 16 m.p.g. in town, 22 on the highway, the CLS500 warrants a $1,300 gas-guzzler tax.
Those who like the styling but don't want to share it with bystanders can opt for the $90,000 CLS55 AMG. With 469 horsepower, it goes by too fast to be appreciated.
The CLS500 has a seven-speed automatic transmission with three shift modes: manual, comfort or sport. The car's hesitant throttle response β are you sure you want to get going? β is as much a Mercedes trait as the three-pointed star.
Once on the way, the CLS is a thoroughly capable cruiser that also handles winding back roads with more aplomb than you'd expect of a 2-ton 16-foot-long luxocruiser.
The steering is quick and responsive, if a bit aloof (and at low speeds, too light for my taste). The adjustable air suspension offers three settings, from firm to really firm. On some surfaces, including the West Side Highway in Manhattan, the car exhibited odd side-to-side rocking motions. Every expansion strip in the road made its presence felt.
While the CLS is bigger than the E-Class, its style takes one casualty: the middle seating position in the rear is replaced by a console with an accordion lid. Each of the car's four seats has its own climate zone, including separate fan controls.
With such a high beltline, the side windows are shallow. That doesn't help visibility, and the window sills are too high to drive like a redneck, arm on door. But the sunk-in cabin reinforces one's impression that the car is low, fast and special.
The interior is showy, with large expanses of wood and a lot more chrome than you're accustomed to seeing from Stuttgart. There is also one thing I have grudgingly become accustomed to, the Comand screen that controls various vehicle functions. At least the CLS provides a separate set of climate controls across the middle of the dash. With 14 buttons and 2 knobs, not counting controls for the heated and cooled seats, the setup is more complicated than it needs to be.
Overhead light pods, front and rear, have all the charm of 1950's flurouresent bathroom fixtures. Still, they include an illumination ring that provides nice subdued mood lighting.
Storage spaces are disappointing, with shallow side pockets and a so-so console. But the cup holders, which seemed too shallow at first, come with clever elevators: press a button and they rise up to embrace a bottle.
It's no secret that Mercedes has struggled with quality control of late, and a few pieces in my test car looked and felt cheaper than the $73,889 sticker would suggest. For example, the plastic cover of the underseat first-aid compartment repeatedly popped open.
Worse, an ugly boil marred the car's lovely derrière; a black plastic puck, which receives satellite navigation signals, was crudely screwed into the blue-gray deck lid.
That blemish aside, the CLS is one of the most handsome cars on the road and one likely to be widely imitated. Unofficial sketches of Porsche's proposed sedan, the Panamera, show a similar profile. And last month, Aston Martin caused a stir with a similar four-door design study called the Rapide. Elegant and muscular, that car is stunning, perhaps prettier than the CLS.
Herein lies the problem with having a wandering eye for fashion. Your head is so easily turned that you end up going home with the next nice-looking car that comes along.
INSIDE TRACK: Juicy couture.
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