Remember when Mercedes-Benz was synonymous with luxury? When their cars whispered “old money” and “executive privilege” from every chrome detail? Well, those days seem as dead as the EQE lineup that’s reportedly getting the axe next year, just three years after its splashy debut at the 2021 Munich Motor Show.
The writing was on the wall when Mercedes decided to name their electric vehicles like software updates. The EQE and EQE SUV sound less like luxury automobiles and more like obscure Samsung washing machine models. But the real tragedy isn’t the naming convention: it’s that Mercedes forgot what made them Mercedes in the first place. And you probably forgot these vehicles existed until I brought them up.
A Soap Bar by Any Other Name
The EQE’s biggest sin isn’t its eye-watering starting price of $64,950 or even its AMG variant’s laughably short 220-mile range for $96,600. No, the real crime is that it looks like every other “futuristic” EV on the market. Mercedes took their legendary design language — the language that made the S-Class a rolling statement of success — and threw it in the blender with every Tesla wannabe that’s rolled off a production line since 2015.
The result? A car line that’s about as memorable as a bar of soap and twice as slippery to hold onto in the market. When your luxury electric vehicle gets outsold by Hyundai’s Ioniq 5, you know you’ve lost the plot.
Let’s talk about those sales figures, actually. Combined EQE sales in the United States plummeted 39% last year to a whopping 11,660 units. To put that in perspective, Tesla sells more Model S vehicles in a slow month than Mercedes sells EQEs in an entire year. For a company that built its reputation on exclusivity, these numbers represent something far worse than poor sales — they represent irrelevance.
The EQE SUV fares slightly better in the range department with 230 miles, but when you’re paying nearly $100,000 for the AMG version, you’re essentially buying a very expensive anxiety generator. Nothing says “luxury motoring” like range anxiety on your way to the country club.
Where Mercedes Lost Its Way
The fundamental problem with Mercedes’ EV strategy isn’t technical: it’s philosophical. The company seems to have convinced itself that “electric” automatically equals “futuristic,” and that “futuristic” means abandoning everything that made their brand desirable in the first place.
Traditional Mercedes design spoke to something deeper than mere transportation. The long hood, the prominent grille, the confident stance: these elements communicated heritage, craftsmanship, and yes, status. The EQE lineup abandons this language entirely, opting instead for the same wind-tunnel-optimized blob aesthetic that every EV startup has been pushing since the Model S proved aerodynamics sell.
Meanwhile, competitors like BMW have managed to electrify their lineup without completely abandoning their design DNA. The iX might be polarizing, but it’s undeniably a BMW. Even Lucid Air, from a company that didn’t exist five years ago, has managed to create something that feels distinctly luxurious and premium.
Mercedes, on the other hand, seems to have handed their EV design to the same committee that’s been churning out forgettable crossovers for rental car fleets.
The Lesson in Luxury
To Mercedes’ credit, they appear to be learning from their mistakes. The company has hinted that the upcoming E-Class EV will ditch the “soapy shape” for a “classic 3-box limousine design” with a “very status-oriented wheelbase.” Translation: they’re finally admitting that looking like every other EV isn’t working.
The planned C-Class and GLC EVs, which will “indirectly replace” the EQE models, suggest Mercedes is ready to return to what actually worked: making electric versions of cars people already want, rather than creating entirely new vehicles that happen to carry the Mercedes badge.
The EQE’s rapid exit teaches us something important about luxury in the electric age: heritage matters more than ever. When every startup can stuff batteries into a sleek shell and call it premium, established luxury brands need to lean into what makes them special, not run away from it.
Mercedes built their reputation on making cars that felt substantial, important, and unmistakably German. The EQE feels like it could have rolled out of any factory in any country, designed by an algorithm rather than artisans.
If Mercedes wants to succeed in the electric future, they needs to remember that luxury isn’t about having the most advanced technology—it’s about making people feel special while they use it. The EQE made drivers feel like beta testers. That’s not luxury; that’s just expensive disappointment.
As the EQE quietly disappears from showrooms next year, perhaps it will serve as a cautionary tale: In the race to go electric, don’t forget to stay true to yourself. To your customers. Because in the end, no one wants to pay six figures for a generic glimpse of tomorrow when they could get that at half the price from the competition.