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Maserati Turns 100—and Shows Up Like It Knows It

If there’s a right way to celebrate a centennial, Maserati seems determined to find it—preferably under bright lights, surrounded by carbon fiber, bespoke paint, and the low hum of electrification. At the 2026 Brussels Motor Show, running January 9–18, the House of the Trident isn’t just exhibiting cars; it’s opening the Year of the Trident with a full-throated reminder of why the badge still matters.

This year marks 100 years since the Trident first appeared—borrowed from Bologna’s Neptune Fountain and now inseparable from Maserati’s identity—and also a century since the brand’s first racing appearance at the Targa Florio, where the Tipo 26 promptly won its class. History, in other words, is doing some heavy lifting here. But Maserati isn’t content to let nostalgia carry the stand. Instead, Brussels becomes a case study in how the brand wants to balance heritage, performance, and a very modern push toward electrification.

The Maserati stand in Hall 11—put together by longtime partner D’Ieteren—has been one of the show’s busiest, and not just because of the badge. Four production models anchor the display: the MCPURA Cielo, GranCabrio Folgore, Grecale Folgore, and the Grecale Lumina Blu Special Edition. Together, they outline Maserati’s current playbook: keep the engines emotional, the interiors indulgent, and the future unmistakably electric.

The real theater, though, happened after hours. On Saturday, January 10, Maserati hosted an exclusive VIP evening that leaned hard into Italian drama, unveiling cars with more symbolism than subtlety. Chief among them were the one-off GranTurismo and GranCabrio Meccanica Lirica—rolling tributes to Modena, opera, and the return of GranTurismo production to the brand’s historic home.

“Meccanica Lirica” isn’t just a poetic name slapped on a special paint job. These cars were created at Officine Fuoriserie Maserati, the brand’s bespoke atelier, and they lean into sensory storytelling. The GranTurismo wears Rosso Velluto, a deep red inspired by opera house curtains, while the GranCabrio glows in Oro Lirico, meant to evoke the warmth of stage lighting under an open sky. It’s theatrical, yes—but deliberately so, and very Maserati.

Sharing the spotlight was the GT2 Stradale, the road-legal evolution of Maserati’s GT2 race car. Less metaphor, more muscle. With track-derived engineering and a clear focus on performance, it serves as a reminder that while Maserati is leaning into luxury and electrification, it hasn’t forgotten how to go fast—or why that matters to its identity.

Back on the show floor, the MCPURA Cielo arguably tells the most complete story of modern Maserati. The open-top supercar gets refreshed styling, higher-grade materials, and an interior that feels more bespoke than before. Power still comes from the Nettuno V6, complete with its Formula 1–derived pre-chamber combustion tech—a reassuring nod to the brand’s racing DNA in an increasingly electric lineup. The Brussels car is finished in Aqua Rainbow from the Fuoriserie palette, a color that looks different depending on how the light hits it—and probably exactly how Maserati intended.

Electrification, of course, is impossible to miss. The GranCabrio Folgore pairs classic Maserati proportions with a fully electric drivetrain, offering open-air driving for four and a claimed top speed of 290 km/h—making it the fastest electric convertible currently on the market. If nothing else, it proves that going electric doesn’t mean going quiet in character.

The Grecale Folgore takes a more practical route, positioning itself as a premium electric SUV with up to 580 km of WLTP range. Finished in Verde Royale with Ghiaccio interiors, it also features an AWD-Disconnect system designed to extend range when all-wheel drive isn’t needed. It’s the sensible Maserati—if such a thing exists.

Then there’s the European debut of the Grecale Lumina Blu Special Edition, which leans into visual drama rather than drivetrain headlines. Night Interaction exterior elements contrast with 21-inch Pegaso wheels, yellow brake calipers, and a yellow Trident on the C-pillar. Inside, Chocolate leather and open-pore briarwood inserts complete a cabin that feels more tailored lounge than SUV interior.

All of it adds up to a brand very aware of its moment. As Maserati COO Santo Ficili put it, the enthusiasm in Brussels reflects “a vision that unites heritage, innovation, and artisanal excellence.” Translation: Maserati believes it can honor its past without being trapped by it—and still compete in a high-performance luxury world that’s changing fast.

If the crowds in Brussels are any indication, the Trident’s second century is off to a confident, carefully choreographed start.

Source: Maserati

News

Europe vs. China, Round Two: This Time It’s About EV Prices

For a brief moment, it looked like the European Union and China might be done trading punches over electric cars. This week, both sides announced they’ve agreed on steps to defuse their simmering dispute over Chinese EV imports—steps that sound cooperative on paper but leave plenty of sharp edges in practice.

The headline is this: instead of simply slugging Chinese-made electric vehicles with tariffs as high as 35.3 percent, the EU is preparing guidelines for minimum import prices. In theory, those price floors are meant to neutralize the effect of Chinese government subsidies without slamming the door entirely on affordable EVs. In reality, it’s a complex compromise that raises as many questions as it answers—starting with whether those tariffs actually go away.

So far, no one’s saying.

China’s Ministry of Commerce framed the agreement in grand terms, calling it a win for “the healthy development of China-Europe economic and trade relations” and for the rules-based global trade order. That’s diplomatic code for please stop escalating this. From Brussels, the message is more procedural: manufacturers can submit price undertakings, the European Commission will review them “objectively and fairly,” and everything will—supposedly—align with World Trade Organization rules.

If that sounds bureaucratic, it’s because it is. The EU’s own guidance acknowledges that today’s EV market is wildly diverse, meaning a one-size-fits-all minimum price won’t work. Instead, model-specific thresholds would be set at levels “adequate to eliminate the harmful effects of subsidies.” Translation: cheap Chinese EVs can still come in, but not too cheap.

This entire standoff exists because Chinese automakers have gotten very good—very fast—at building electric cars that undercut European rivals on price. Brussels argues that this advantage isn’t purely about efficiency or scale, but about state support. The list of alleged incentives is long and familiar: low-interest loans from state banks, discounted land for factories, tax breaks, subsidized materials, and guaranteed demand via state fleet purchases. Stack all that together, and you get EVs that arrive in Europe with price tags legacy automakers can’t easily match.

The U.S. response to the same phenomenon was blunt-force: a 100 percent tariff that effectively walls off the American market from Chinese EVs. Europe can’t afford to be that absolutist. The EU has legally binding climate targets—cutting greenhouse-gas emissions by 55 percent by 2030—and hitting those numbers requires lots of electric cars, including affordable ones. Blocking Chinese imports entirely would make that transition slower, pricier, and politically messier.

And here’s the twist that often gets lost in the rhetoric: a significant chunk of “Chinese” EV imports into Europe aren’t from Chinese brands at all. The value of battery-electric cars imported into Europe jumped from $1.6 billion in 2020 to $11.5 billion in 2023, and much of that volume comes from Western automakers building cars in China. Tesla and BMW both ship China-built EVs to Europe, which means trade barriers can boomerang back onto Europe’s own champions.

Despite the tariffs already in place, Chinese brands keep gaining ground. In the first half of 2025, Chinese-made vehicles accounted for 6 percent of total EU car sales, up from 5 percent a year earlier, according to ACEA and S&P Global Mobility. That may not sound seismic, but in a mature market like Europe, a one-point gain in a single year is significant. EU-based manufacturers still dominate with a 74 percent share, and Germany remains the production heavyweight, but the trajectory is what worries policymakers.

Consultants at AlixPartners estimate that by 2030, Chinese automakers could double their European market share to around 10 percent. That’s not an existential takeover—but it’s enough to pressure margins, accelerate price wars, and force faster innovation from incumbents.

So where does this “agreement” actually leave us? Somewhere in the gray zone between protectionism and pragmatism. Minimum price rules may blunt the sharpest edge of China’s cost advantage without fully choking off supply. They also buy time—time for European automakers to get their next-generation EVs out the door, and for Brussels to avoid a full-scale trade war it can’t really win.

In the end, this isn’t about tariffs versus free trade. It’s about control. Europe wants cheaper EVs, but on its own terms. China wants access to a massive market, but without being labeled the villain of the global energy transition. For now, both sides are pretending that carefully worded guidelines can square that circle.

Whether that truce holds once real cars—and real price tags—hit European showrooms is another story entirely.

Source: ACEA, AlixPartners

News

Dacia Bets on Choice with Dual A-Segment EV Strategy

Dacia is about to pull off a neat little trick in the bargain-basement EV space—sell two electric city cars at the same time and make it look intentional.

In the coming months, the Renault-owned brand will unveil a new A-segment EV based on the upcoming electric Twingo, with a public debut locked in for the Paris motor show this September. It’ll hit European showrooms by year’s end with a targeted starting price below €18,000 (about £15,000), which already sounds like a mic drop in today’s inflation-happy EV market. But here’s the twist: the new car won’t immediately replace the Spring. Instead, Dacia plans to keep both on sale, making it the only automaker willing to hedge its city-EV bets so openly.

Think of it as the Clio-and-Sandero playbook, but electrified. The new entry-level EV borrows heavily from the Twingo’s bones, yet wears bespoke Dacia styling and undercuts its Renault cousin on price. Officially, it’s positioned as the Spring’s successor—but Dacia’s bosses are quick to point out that succession doesn’t necessarily mean eviction.

“They are still quite different,” said Dacia product chief Patrice Lévy-Bencheton, hinting that the distinction will be obvious once the car is revealed. Size and shape will do some of the differentiating work. At roughly 3.8 meters long and 1.7 meters wide, the new model will be slightly larger than the Spring and match the Twingo footprint. Design-wise, early previews suggest a radical shift, ditching city-car cuteness in favor of the chunky, pseudo-4×4 aesthetic that’s become a Dacia calling card.

That extra presence comes with a price bump. The new EV is expected to start around £15,000—roughly £3,000 more than the cheapest Spring. Even so, both cars will live in the same A-segment, aimed at urban buyers who care less about Nürburgring lap times and more about monthly payments.

According to Lévy-Bencheton, the overlap will last about a year, with the Spring being phased out market by market depending on incentives, regulations, and demand. Translation: Dacia will let customers vote with their wallets.

Sales and marketing boss Frank Marotte was even more blunt. The cars will sit at different price points, wear different designs, and then—shrug—“we’ll figure out what the customer will buy.” Refreshingly honest, that.

There’s also a geopolitical subplot here. The Spring is essentially a rebadged Renault City K-ZE, built in China and lightly adapted for Europe. That means it’s now subject to the EU’s hefty tariffs on Chinese-built EVs. The new model, by contrast, was designed in Europe for European buyers and will likely be built alongside the Twingo in Slovenia. No tariffs, better margins, fewer political headaches.

What makes this strategy particularly odd—in a good way—is the timing. Dacia has just given the Spring a significant refresh for 2026, despite it entering its seventh year on sale and staring down its so-called replacement. Power is up across both drivetrains, with the top version now delivering 101 horsepower. Charging speeds have improved. Suspension tweaks promise better handling. In short, Dacia addressed many of the Spring’s most common European complaints just months before introducing another car to steal its thunder.

Marotte admits it looks strange. Updating a car this late in its life cycle usually signals either desperation or indecision. But Dacia insists it’s about protecting residual values and keeping the Spring commercially relevant in an EV market that moves at smartphone speed.

“In the BEV world, if you want to sustain your residual values, you need to upgrade your product,” Marotte said. Fall behind on tech, and depreciation comes fast and hard. Dacia’s solution? Keep upgrading, even if the replacement is already waiting in the wings.

The result is an unusual but very on-brand strategy: maximum choice, minimum pretension, and prices that still feel like a rebuke to the rest of the industry. Two electric city cars, one showroom, and a sales team tasked with letting the market sort it out. In today’s EV landscape, that might be the most radical idea of all.

Source: Dacia

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