Legendary Italian car designer Marcello Gandini passed away in 2024 at the age of 85. He didn’t just leave behind a collection of jaw-dropping supercars—he changed the course of automotive design, crafting vehicles that would go on to become icons of the 20th century.
If car design had its own “Mount Rushmore,” Gandini’s face would undoubtedly be etched into it. His works have touched the lives of countless car enthusiasts, including myself. I remember being a child in Old Montreal, standing on the cobblestone streets, gazing at a bright orange Lamborghini Countach parked by the side of the road. In that moment, my brain seemed to short-circuit. It wasn’t just a car—it was a spaceship, a dream, a flame that couldn’t be ignored. My father calmly stood beside me as I stared, rooted to the spot for a full half hour. Since then, I knew that cars weren’t just machines; they were art, they were belief, and they were a lifelong passion.
What’s astonishing is that Gandini didn’t just design the Countach. Seven years earlier, he had already created the Miura—a car that, in many ways, invented the concept of the supercar. The Miura made its debut at the 1966 Geneva Motor Show, and was so revolutionary that automotive critic L.J.K. Setright coined the term "supercar" after seeing it. The Miura was born in the Bertone design studio, where Gandini, just 27 years old, had recently been hired as a lead designer.
But there’s an interesting backstory to Miura’s creation. Gandini had applied for a job at Bertone in 1963, but was initially turned down by senior designer Giorgetto Giugiaro. It wasn’t until Giugiaro left the company in 1965 that Gandini was given the opportunity to join. Just three months later, Gandini designed the Miura, which would go on to be mistaken by some as the work of Giugiaro or even Bertone’s owner, Nuccio Bertone. To clarify, Gandini simply said, "I completed Miura in three months—on my own." Short and to the point, but firmly establishing his authorship.
As talented as he was, Gandini wasn’t always the easiest person to collaborate with. He was known for his unyielding belief in his designs, which sometimes led to conflict. One notable example was the development of the Diablo, Lamborghini’s successor to the Countach. Initially, Gandini presented a full-size model for the Diablo, but it didn’t go over well with Chrysler, which owned Lamborghini at the time. When asked to modify his design, Gandini refused to make changes, stating, “The master has spoken.” In the end, the project was handed over to Chrysler’s design team, led by Tom Gale, who ultimately reworked the car. Gandini’s original model was later used for a different car—the Cizeta-Moroder V16T.
A similar situation unfolded when Gandini was hired to design the Bugatti EB110. Known for its four-turbocharged engine, mid-mounted configuration, and carbon fiber body, the EB110 was an incredible feat of engineering. However, Bugatti’s management found Gandini’s design too angular and asked for revisions. Gandini, in a rare act of compromise, made changes, but when further requests came, he refused to make more alterations. In a baffling turn of events, Bugatti hired Giampaolo Benedini, an architect with no previous experience in car design, to complete the EB110. The car, however, became an instant classic and cemented its place in automotive history.
These stories give us a glimpse into the man behind the designs. He wasn’t just a draftsman; he was an artist, and artists don’t always follow the rules. Gandini’s insistence on his creative vision resulted in vehicles that were, and still are, groundbreaking.
Throughout his career, Gandini created more than just the Miura and Countach. He designed the Alfa Romeo Montreal, the Lancia Stratos, the BMW E12 5 Series, and even the Lamborghini Espada, which remains one of the coolest and most stylish four-seater cars ever made. The Lancia Stratos Zero, a concept car he designed, was especially bold, resembling a low-slung fighter jet from the future. When it was first unveiled, French writer and car collector Jean-Pierre Duret said, "When I first saw the Stratos Zero, it was like seeing a Picasso painting roll out of a museum." During a classic car event in southern France, a local farmer walked past the car, squatted down, and circled it three times before asking, “Does this car actually drive?” In that moment, Duret realized that Gandini’s designs had the power to fascinate even the most untrained eyes.
Not every design of Gandini’s became a global icon, and not every collaboration went smoothly. But that was part of what made him special—he stayed true to his style, refused to compromise for the market, and didn’t bend to trends. In an era filled with “user research” and “data-driven design,” his work remains a rare and treasured example of creative independence.
Among his many masterpieces, the Countach stands out as his crowning achievement. It’s more than just a car—it’s a symbol of speed, wealth, desire, and futurism. From video games to Hollywood movies, from Jay Leno’s garage to 1990s street art, the Countach has become synonymous with performance and aspiration. It’s not just a car; it’s a declaration of identity, a lifestyle, and a dream.
Now that Gandini is no longer with us, we have to ask: who will continue to reshape the world of car design with a single pencil stroke? His legacy is already eternal. His name will live on in the hearts and minds of those who dream of cars, who stand at the windows of car showrooms, eyes wide with wonder as they stare at that red Countach with its iconic scissor doors.
Goodbye, Mr. Gandini. Grazie mille. You made the world a little more beautiful, and you made our hearts race a lot faster.