Ah, the Mercedes-Benz S-Class – once the undisputed king of the automotive jungle, a symbol of unadulterated luxury that screamed "I've made it!" Picture this: back in the '70s and '80s, the S-Class was the chariot for the elite. It debuted innovations like ABS brakes and airbags before they were mandatory, making it not just a car, but a rolling fortress of sophistication. Hollywood stars like Brad Pitt in his prime executive roles would slide into one, looking effortlessly cool, while the rest of us peasants gawked from our rusty sedans. Owning an S-Class meant you were a CEO, a diplomat, or at least someone who could afford to pretend. It was the automotive equivalent of a Rolex – timeless, exclusive, and a tad ostentatious.

Fast forward to today, and oh, how the mighty have fallen. The S-Class has gone from red-carpet exclusivity to... airport shuttle ubiquity. Your Uber Black driver pulls up in a slightly scuffed S550, blasting talk radio, with a faint whiff of last night's takeout. "Luxury ride?" you think, as you climb in next to a forgotten water bottle. What happened? Well, Mercedes got a bit too generous with the keys. In the 2000s, they ramped up production to chase volume sales, flooding the market. Suddenly, every fleet operator from limos to rideshares snapped them up at discounts. Reliability dipped in some models – remember those pesky electronic gremlins in the W220 era? – turning the dream machine into a high-maintenance diva.

Humorously, it's like that once-glamorous celebrity who now does infomercials. The S-Class still packs tech wizardry: massaging seats that knead your back like a Swedish pro, and screens bigger than your home TV. But cachet? Poof! Competitors like the Tesla Model S stole the innovation thunder with electric zing, while Audis and BMWs nipped at its heels with sharper designs. And let's not forget the lease deals – you can snag an S-Class for what used to buy a mid-tier E-Class, democratizing luxury to the point where it's... ordinary. Your neighbor's accountant drives one, and so does the guy delivering your Amazon packages (okay, slight exaggeration, but you get it).

In this era of EVs and crossovers, the S-Class feels like a dinosaur in a tuxedo – elegant, but outpaced. Mercedes is fighting back with the electric EQS, but the gas-guzzling S-Class? It's the dad joke of luxury sedans: reliable laughs, but no wow factor.

So, Spies, how did the cachet of the S-Class plummet from super-slick CEO executive choice to "your airport driver is arriving soon and is in an S-Class"?

Don't get us wrong. It's still a nice car, just NOT the one that catches the eye on arrival. 

Share your theories below – was it overproduction, tech rivals, or just the inevitable march of time?