When Lexus burst onto the automotive scene in 1989 with the LS 400, it wasn't just a car—it was a statement. Toyota's luxury brand aimed to dethrone Mercedes and BMW, and boy, did it deliver. What I miss most from those early Lexus models is that sense of awe-inspiring value, particularly in the interiors. Opening the door to an original LS, SC, or LX felt like stepping into a bespoke sanctuary, where every material screamed "premium" without the eye-watering price tag of its European rivals. Today, the current crop of Lexus vehicles? They're solid, reliable, but they've phoned it in. That magic—the kind that made you marvel at the craftsmanship—has faded. The interiors are good, sure, but no longer game-breaking.
Let's rewind to the originals. The LS 400, Lexus's flagship sedan, redefined luxury for the masses. For around $35,000 (equivalent to about $85,000 today), you got supple leather seats that felt like they were sourced from the finest tanneries. It wasn't just soft; it was durable, with a rich grain that aged gracefully, resisting cracks and wear far better than competitors. Paired with genuine walnut wood trim—real burled panels, not plastic veneers—the cabin exuded warmth and elegance. Critics raved: Car and Driver called it "the best luxury car in the world" upon launch, partly because that interior punched way above its weight class. For the money, it was revolutionary, making Mercedes' S-Class feel overpriced and stodgy.
Then there was the SC 300/400 coupe in 1991, a sleek grand tourer that blended performance with opulence. Its leather-wrapped everything—from the dashboard to the door panels—was buttery smooth, often in two-tone schemes that added flair without ostentation. The wood accents, like bird's-eye maple, were meticulously matched, creating a cohesive, artisanal feel. Priced under $40,000, it offered interior quality that rivaled Porsche or Jaguar, but with Toyota's bulletproof reliability. I admired how Lexus didn't skimp; every touchpoint felt intentional, inviting you to linger and appreciate the details.
The LX 450 SUV, debuting in 1995, brought that same ethos to the off-road world. Based on the Land Cruiser, it transformed rugged utility into refined luxury. The leather seats were plush yet supportive for long hauls, and the wood trim on the steering wheel and console added a touch of class to what could have been a utilitarian cabin. For about $47,000, it delivered materials that felt premium enough for a boardroom, outshining the Range Rover's often finicky interiors. Back then, sitting inside one of these made you think, "This is what luxury should cost—accessible excellence."
Fast forward to 2025, and the latest Lexus lineup—the LS, LC (successor to SC), and LX—feels like they've settled into complacency. The current LS 500 starts at over $80,000, with leather that's high-quality but not transcendent. It's semi-aniline, soft to the touch, yet it lacks that "wow" factor; it's on par with a loaded BMW 7 Series, not leagues ahead. The wood options, like open-pore bamboo or walnut, are nice, but they've become commonplace in the segment. No longer do they stand out "for the money"—rivals like Genesis or even Hyundai's luxury trims offer similar tactility at lower prices.
Today's GX...SO MEH. Not even as nice as the base Genesis.
The LC 500 coupe? Stunning exterior, but inside, the leather and Alcantara mix is competent, not captivating. It's good for $100,000+, yet I don't marvel anymore; it's expected, not exceptional. Same with the LX 600: over $90,000 gets you fine leather and wood, but it's not the value disruptor of yore. Lexus seems to have phoned it in, relying on hybrid tech and infotainment rather than pushing interior boundaries. Competition has caught up—Audi's virtual cockpits and Mercedes' ambient lighting steal the show—leaving Lexus feeling safe, not groundbreaking. Seems to us that should be the MINIMUM quality that should be called a Lexus interior.
What I miss is that pioneering spirit: interiors that made luxury democratic, where leather and wood weren't just materials but a promise of over-delivery. Today's Lexus cars are reliable daily drivers, but they don't evoke that initial wonder. To recapture the magic, Lexus needs to innovate again—perhaps with sustainable, ultra-premium alternatives that redefine "for the money." Until then, I'll reminisce about the originals, where opening the door was an event, not just entry.
The Golden Era of Lexus: When Interiors Were a Revelation, Not Just Routine.