I'd like a supersized grille, please.
In China, the foreignness of a brand—its logo and geographic origins—often matters more than the product itself.

The documentary Supersize Me, directed by the late Morgan Spurlock, examined America’s obsession with supersizing fast food meals. It revealed how indulging gluttonous desires leads to personal health issues, all while lining the pockets of corporations like McDonald’s with ever-larger profits. While Spurlock’s documentary focused on food, the concept of “supersizing” has now been adopted by China in the form of oversized foreign car grilles—a trend rooted in the country’s fixation on showcasing and reinforcing social standing.
In recent years, automotive design has taken a peculiar turn. Brands like BMW, Lexus, and Ford—long celebrated for their intelligent and timeless designs—have begun to exaggerate their car grilles, which are essentially the branding focal points in vehicle design. It’s as if someone fed a standard BMW into an AI program with the prompt: “Supersize the grille.” The result? An obnoxious caricature of the same car, akin to an insecure model overly enhancing her features.
This shift in design language is heavily influenced by demand from the Chinese market, where luxury goods are seen as tools for conveniently conveying status. In China, the foreignness of a brand—its logo and geographic origins—often matters more than the product itself. For many, a car is less about the driving experience and more about its ability to project prestige in social, business, and family circles. The grille, as the car’s “face,” acts as the performer, ensuring that sentiment is unmistakably conveyed.
As someone who grew up with a deep love for car design, I find this trend profoundly superficial and anti-creative. My admiration for vehicles was shaped by timeless designs like the Jaguar E-Type, the vintage Porsche 356, and the aerodynamic brilliance of the Auto Union V16 Type C. These vehicles were crafted with intention, their forms dictated by both function and artistry. They were not mere machines; they were expressions of their creators’ vision.

Later designs like Pininfarina’s Ferrari Testarossa, the McLaren F1, and the Lamborghini Countach embodied distinguished concepts tied together to create true automotive personalities. They carried an air of boldness while respecting proportion and balance. Even with the complexities of modern engineering, these cars reflected the essence of their brands and their purposes.
Fast forward to today, and it feels as though many cars have lost their soul. Sleek lines and purposeful details have been replaced with absurdly oversized grilles that dominate the front end, more reminiscent of a radiator on wheels than a thoughtfully designed vehicle. This isn’t evolution driven by innovation—it’s a shallow attempt to cater to a market that undervalues the most meaningful aspects of car design.
In many ways, these vehicles epitomize the cultural dynamics of the region. They reflect a society where technology and resources have advanced rapidly, but the social and ethical understanding of design has lagged behind. It’s a world where the aesthetics of excess take precedence over thoughtful, human-centered design.
There’s a certain irony in how these trends manifest. Decades ago, it was considered tacky to wear clothing emblazoned with oversized logos. Subtlety and understatement were the hallmarks of good taste. Yet, history seems to be repeating itself, this time manifesting in China’s demand for grille enlargement.
This raises important questions: How much control do legacy brands truly have over their design language when they are beholden to external influences? How much should one country’s preferences dictate global design values?
As consumers, we need to ask ourselves why we buy what we buy. Are we purchasing a car for its performance, design, and functionality, or are we buying it to impress others? If it’s the latter, what does that say about our values and priorities?

The oversized grille is a symptom of a larger issue—a society increasingly driven by appearances rather than substance. Perhaps it’s time to take a step back and reimagine what design should be. Instead of catering to unhealthy approaches to evaluating value, shouldn’t we focus on timeless design as a way to ensure sustainability, rather than designs that showcase only fleeting trends, inevitably leading to planned obsolescence?
True design shouldn’t reflect the inadequacies of outdated social systems. It should be about thoughtful timelessness, anchored in real vision. Let’s reclaim the artistry and purpose that once defined automotive design and challenge the culture of excess that distorts it today.