Photography by Axel E. Catton and Diana Grandi
As I arrive at a nondescript white building in the industrial section of Moncalieri south of Turin, I am 10 minutes early. And so is Giorgetto Giugiaro–named “Car Designer of the Century” in 1999 by a jury of his peers and experts alike–as he silently rolls up in a Hyundai Ioniq 5.
He looks young, much younger than his soon-to-be 86 years. His hair is gray, his glasses light brown with light lenses. I always remembered him in an immaculate suit, all buttons closed, with those glasses with faded gray lenses, a Karl Lagerfeld-like figure in a sea of suited managers.
I think back to being a 12-year-old schoolboy. I took out car magazines from the local library that celebrated him. I never thought I would meet him in person and get a chance to interview him.
But with 2024 marking half a century of the iconic Volkswagen Golf–one of his most mass-produced designs–I was curious to hear that story from the man himself. Plus, I wanted to find out why he sold his own Italdesign to VW and, in 2016 at the age of 78, started anew with GFG Style.
Giugiaro’s fire–and work–knows few bounds. In the lead photograph is a recent project, the Bizzarrini 5300 GT Corsa Revival 24/65, an update to the 1965 LeMans class winner.
This morning, Giugiaro appears with a beaming smile in an open blue shirt and blue pants. Having brought my friend and ex-Quattroruote journalist Diana Grandi with me facilitates the morning immensely and allows us to hold the interview in Italian.
As we enter the building, we walk past two of Giugiaro’s W12 supercars he designed for Volkswagen, bringing us already halfway into the history of this great artist with the German group.
But we start at the beginning. “In 1969, a group of German engineers had visited the Turin Motor Show, and afterward, the head of the Italian VW importer, Gerhard Gumpert, told me VW wanted to commission me for some future cars,” he explains.
“So on January 2, 1970, I went up to Wolfsburg, where I found myself in a room with perhaps 30 engineers. In a corner, there was the newly launched Fiat 128 in pieces, a sight that reassured me. I thought they were going to ask me to design a competitor to the 128.
“They said they wanted me to design not one single model, but a whole range of cars that would all carry some family resemblance. First they wanted the Passat, then they showed me a technical sketch of a smaller car that should have been in competition with the Fiat 128. Looking at its measurements, I noticed that the interior and boot space were smaller, and there was less headroom than in the Fiat.”
Giugiaro shrugs his shoulders visibly to show his surprise. The 85-year-old is animated, his arms waving, his hands gesticulating Italian style.
“‘Why is that?’ I asked. If it had to beat the competition, it needed to be at least 2 centimeters wider, taller, etc. And I found their reply astonishing: ‘We will never be able to make a product like the Fiat 128 with this weight, these measurements, these mechanicals and this boot space. We shall have to make do with the measurements of the Beetle.’ So much consideration, respect and even admiration toward Fiat! No one wants to believe me, but I heard it with my own ears!
“In May 1970, I presented the Passat; in July of the same year, [I presented] the Golf,” he says so very nonchalantly. If you consider today’s gestation periods for new vehicle design, the fact that the then 32-year-old artist produced these two very different and important car designs in about five months is astonishing.
Giugiaro’s first projects for Volkswagen–the new Passat and Golf, one of Europe’s best-sellers for nearly a decade–featured his popular folded paper design language. Photography Courtesy Volkswagen
He continues: “During the following development of the Passat, the key people who had commissioned it to me were laid off, as the shareholders got scared of the huge investment necessary for this model. And to think that I was about to sign a 10-year contract with them.
“The new guy in charge was Rudolf Leiding, and when he saw the Passat and Golf project, he stopped it as he didn’t like it. With regards to the Passat, I had made a car similar to the Golf but bigger in size. Instead, he asked me to do a restyling based on the Audi 80 platform. The completely new Golf was not changed, because time was of the essence.”
Giugiaro talks very factually and without judgement. He recounts history but does not embellish anyone’s roles in it.
He continues: “At the same time, VW had asked Bertone to design the Audi 50 as a possible substitute for the Golf, as they were afraid the new VW might not be successful. The exact opposite happened. Leiding made me change only the headlights of the Golf, because the rectangular ones I chose would have ended up too expensive.
“He asked for round ones, but I was worried because the Alfa Romeo I had just designed had round lights looking very similar, and I feared people would think I just copied them. Leiding wanted round ones because, since the Golf was going to be exported to America, it needed to be equipped with U.S. standard sealed beam lights, which were round. So it was about money.”
Funny enough, when VW replaced the imported Golf–known here as the Rabbit–with the Pennsylvanian-built version a few years later, the updated car featured one big difference: a move to those same square headlights.
Ferdinand Piëch wanted to show the world that VW could design a supercar, so he had Giugiaro’s Italdesign create the W12. While never put into production, the concept car claimed seven world speed records. Photography Courtesy Volkswagen
How different was working with German managers compared to his previous experience with Italian companies like Fiat, Alfa and Maserati? “The Germans are very well organized, clever and respectful,” Giugiaro replies. “They follow their bosses’ orders.
“Meanwhile, in Italy, the boss says one thing and the staff complain and argue, wanting to change what they have been told. While the project was underway, I kept going backward and forward between Italy and Germany. I realized that there was something not right about things, but no one dared to say anything or to criticize what management had said.
“Later during my VW years, when we met to view the prototypes and competitors, top management would spend the whole day outside under the beating sun, having just a roll and a glass of water for lunch, to check things. In Italy, this would have been done in an hour!”
As he explains his views on “i tedeschi,” Italian for “the Germans,” he continues to touch my arm and smiles broadly so as to say, “I know, they aren’t all like that.”
How was working with a young Ferdinand Piëch, Ferdinand Porsche’s grandson and eventual chairman of the executive board at VW Group? “One day, Gumpert told me that there was a young German engineer who wanted to come and work with me in Turin at Italdesign for a period of time to gain design experience.
“Gumpert assured me he was a good person held in high esteem. Piëch would start work punctually at 8 every morning, while my timing was a bit more … flexible. We would work together at the drawing board, but he was more mechanically minded than me. We also used to rent cars and go out to test them. He was a formidable driver.”
Was it this connection that eventually led him to bring Italdesign into the Volkswagen Group in 2010? “Previously, I had taken on a project worth several hundred million dollars and was looking to a partner to help me fund my future work. When I told Piëch about this, he suggested I work for the VW Group full time.
“His intention was to use me to stimulate competition among the Group’s style centers. So, I gave VW a majority stake in my company. After a while, I realized how lengthy the procedures now became just to build a model. As a creative designer, I was used to drawing something in the evening and having it done the following morning.
“But at VW there were so many steps to be followed, so many people to get approval from, investments to be authorized. When they said this car will appear in five years, I thought by then it will be old. They were disciplined and well organized but bulky and slow. And I had to realize I had no say in my own company anymore.”
After four years, Giugiaro and his son, Fabrizio, were ready to leave, but Piëch was having none of it. “He was wanting to give me back leadership of my company,” Giugiaro continues. “So we drew up a new contract with his dedicated successor, Martin Winterkorn, as the Group supervisory board chairman. All three of us signed, shook hands and went our separate ways.
“Three days later, German media reported that Winterkorn’s future as the new chairman of the supervisory board was in doubt, and Piëch was beginning to distance himself from Winterkorn.” Eventually, both Giugiaros left Italdesign and set up shop in Moncalieri with GFG Style.
A day with Giugiaro, assisted via translation from Diana Grandi: seeing his new electric Bandini Dora, touring the collection, and receiving a personalized sketch.
Today, Giorgetto Giugiaro talks about these instances confidently and without regret. He reports them matter-of-factly, and it’s evident that he is happy and settled with how things have turned out for Fabrizio and him.
Visiting him at GFG Style, surrounded by two dozen of his most iconic designs–with the Alfa Romeo 2000 taking center stage–it becomes clear that he is proud of his past, of his history, but that he has no intention of revelling in it. As we pose for some pictures together, I look at the sketch he gifted me and realize he has signed it not Giugiaro, but just Giorgetto. Way to blow a 12-year-old schoolboy’s mind.
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