What’s in a Porsche Name?

I was reading the other day about a couple who have named their three daughters after car manufacturers. What a joy for 8 year-old Lexus and her 26 month-old twin sisters, Porsche and Audi. Not even Portia or Edie. No pressure on their choice of vehicle later in life then. “For my eighteenth birthday, Daddy got me some deed poll forms.”

This kind of stuff always grates – like bimbos who tattoo themselves with car badges, just above the waistline. No brand is forever: brand values come and go and our allegiances are not cast in stone. For example: this year, Fernando Alonso is running for Ferrari, so I’ll be following the red cars. Will this new UK tifosi be tattooing a prancing horse on the back of his head? Not likely.

All these legendary names – Porsche, Ferrari, Lamborghini – are now just marketing angles: brands like any other. The fascination of dynasty is kindled by Ferdinand’s grandson, Herr Piëch, and his wonderplan for the company’s future, but we will never again see the like of the independent family business that took on the world and won.

I’m not saying that I don’t connect with some parts of modern Porsche. I like the newer strings to Porsche’s bow and can easily imagine Herr Doctor endorsing the Cayenne or Panamera, but I can also see him pushing hard to balance the company’s bulk, by way of lighter cars involving the latest technologies – not the mad dash for luxo-barge market sector we have seen in the last ten years.

It’s hard to be genuinely innovative when market share is all that really matters. The freshness that Porsche was once famous for is now the preserve of other, less cumbersome brands and the 911 echoes this boardroom bulk in the metal: today, the legendary sports car is a lard-arsed pastiche of its former self (witness the side stripes on this Mexico/Riviera/whatever the new name is Blue Turbo).

Now that Porsche is 100% corporate and no longer carries that endearing family connection, perhaps the best we old-school devotees can hope for from future product is flashes of brilliance and hints of the brand’s rich history; flashes that don’t cost £140,000 and sell out in a week. For me, the current state of play is not enough to choose Porsche as a name for my kids or a brand for my skin and, to my mind, anyone who does marks themselves out as severely lacking in imagination.

Perhaps the last Emperor – Ferdinand Karl Piëch – can revive the must-see character of the Porsche that we classic fans know and love: a manufacturer whose every move was tracked and imitated because it was fresh, interesting and, above all exciting. Not a regurgitation of something they did 20 years earlier. Fingers crossed; we old school fans look forward more than we look back.