DS 7 E‑Tense 4x4 300 Opera | Long Term Review

From the outside at least, it does look as though it’s beginning to get an idea itself of exactly what DS Automobiles should be. Mission statements preach elegance and opulence infused with sporting pedigree and engineering excellence, but what does all of that mean? And how does the execution compare to that of brands we’ve come to know well, and of whose cars we generally know what to expect?

We are only now beginning to shift beyond the stereotypical mindsets that have long tarnished the buying habits of motorists. Ideas that French cars are badly made, Japanese cars quite the opposite, Italian cars horribly unreliable, etc., etc. And DS is busy trying to position itself within the minds of the wider market that this is a brand that is worth paying attention to.

The best way to do that is of course to deliver quality cars, and ten years into this adventure DS has managed to put together a recognisable and cohesive range of models that is distinctly DS. Any lingering scent of Citroën is now long gone, so the challenge is now to prove to buyers that these cars are worth their salt.

We’ve decided to undertake our own investigation into this mysterious French brand to figure out for ourselves exactly where it sits within an ever-expanding landscape of car manufacturers, with lines increasingly blurred between the luxurious, the practical and the affordable. For the next six months, we’re going to be putting the DS 7 through an extensive test, to see what it’s like to live with, and how it compares to rivals.

Update 4: Clocking on

If you’re going to sell a car for north of £60,000, or more realistically, if you are going to call a car ‘luxury’ in any way, you better provide a proper way of telling the time.

We don’t mean just a nice digital readout on the inevitable touchscreen. That’s something we all get at the top of our phone – or if we buy a £5 Casio watch. No, this should be something that at least looks like it’s been thought about.

For our DS 7 that means a watch from BRM. Not the classic racing car manufacturer that likes to put too many cylinders in a small engine. But Bernard Richards Manufacture.

It seems only correct that the clock inside a DS, the historical brand of choice for the French establishment, is French rather than a tirelessly efficient Swiss timepiece. There’s something delightfully gallic about a French company that will only use French partners. Protectionism that doesn’t feel like it’s going to end the world.

The partnership between DS and BRM only began in 2016, then the DS 3 performance appeared at the Geneva Motor Show and had a watch alongside it. A limited edition piece to be sold to owners of the latest small, fastish hatch from not-Citroën.

That might not seem like a long time for a partnership we’re banging on about today, but French horologist Bernard Richards only started making his own watches in 2003. Before that, after attending the delightfully-named École d’horlogerie de Paris, he had made parts for the luxury watch industry. Striking out on his own BRM became something of a rapid hit, playing on a sort-of-faux racing history. In the end the company built up relationships with teams including Corvette, with whom it rather oddly sells a watch called “V12”.

The BRM in question today is an R180, and is standard on the upper levels of the DS 7 range. It’s a rectangular model that does very little to stray away from BRM’s usual fare – the hands have circular cutouts like the wheel on an Alfa Romeo Tipo 33 Stradale, the numbering picks out multiples of four, there’s a big shaded area in the centre of the face.

Do we like it? I think so. It is rather lovely to see the BRM rotating, without fuss, out of the dash every time you turn the DS 7 on. The only issue is that perhaps the racing stylings of the clock clash with the attempt at French luxuriance that the DS’s interior has. Or maybe it’s just adding a dash of je ne sais quoi?

What do you think of the DS’s BRM?

Written by Ben Miles.

Update 3: The times they car a… charging

The best thing about a plug-in hybrid electric vehicle is the ability to waft around on zero emissions when you’re doing most of your daily routine. The worst thing about some plug-in hybrid electric vehicles (other than PHEV being the worst acronym/initialism ever) is that if you live more than a certain distance from work and don’t have somewhere to charge it at home, that becomes slightly moot.

Our time with a long-term DS 7 will be littered with conundrums about charging. Who needs to charge it now? When was it last charged? What will we do when the charger nearest the office inevitably breaks? But this ongoing issue highlights possibly the second-best thing about a PHEV – no matter your electric range, you’re also carrying around an internal combustion engine to get you out of trouble.

Given the state of the charging infrastructure in certain parts of the country, carrying a spare petrol engine is a real boon. While there’s anxiety sometimes that constantly working on the old-fashioned motor is ruining our fuel consumption, at least we’re not getting that nagging fear of range anxiety.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not someone who complains about the range of modern EVs. I don’t think that most of us have regular journeys long enough to make that a real-world issue, and once you’re on the motorway a little careful planning means long trips are pretty simple. But having an EV range in our DS 7 that in February comes closer to 16 miles than 20 has meant that emissions motoring is massively outstripping zero-emissions.

In case you can’t tell right now, I’m not entirely sure where this weekly update is going. I like the zero emissions element of PHEV motoring, but really get annoyed by the numbers the car throws out when it’s run out of electric juice.

Perhaps I’ll get used to this over the coming months, perhaps I’ll have some kind of charging regime that means I bounce from Goodwood to home barely moving any pistons. But right now the frustration of being so close to an excellent solution, but so far is palpable. At the moment, this PHEV DS 7 is mightily close to being a petrol DS 7.

Written by Ben Miles.

Update 2: Comfortable cliches

Comfort is a byword for French car history. It is surely Citroën that is the most inextricably linked with the idea of a car that wafts you along beyond all others. It is, after all, a company that proudly designed a small car just after the war with a specific remit to cross ploughed fields.

But, perhaps the best emblem of this approach to car design was the Citroën DS. A car that not only approached its exterior design in a futuristic manner, but attempted to elevate ride from merely a feature to almost an artform.

Later Citroëns would continue its reputation for comfort. It even went as far as to have cars that delighted youngsters by mysteriously elevating themselves before they were driven, like a Harrier jet just reaching the end of its suspension before it took to the sky. But little could match the simple elegance of the DS. A car so stylish and smooth that it became as much a part of the French psyche as it was a popular machine. One is even said to have saved President De Gaulle’s life – the equivalent of a Jaguar saving Sir David Attenborough here.

So when DS was spun off as a brand of its own there was pressure. Pressure to preserve a long legacy, pressure to help a French car industry that wasn’t what it once was, but overall pressure to live up to that legend of comfort. As we received our long-term DS 7 at GRR towers, similar hopes pervaded through the office.

OK, that’s a bit of a lie, but a French car should mean that longer team or even personal journeys were about to get a whole lot nicer, right?

Well, to put that to the test I drove the DS 7 to Birmingham and back last weekend. Having taken the keys from our Web Editor Simon Ostler, I was interested to see just how comfortable this big DS would be. Perhaps it is the DS 9 that is best compared to that original DS (that after all being a large saloon bent on hitting a certain market), but if you stick a DS badge on a car then there is a certain expectation, right? Especially for those of us who have grown to have a particular fondness for many things French.

Did it live up to the potential? No. Of course it didn’t. But don’t misread me. I’m not saying it was bad. But was it up to the standard of an early DS? Of course it wasn’t. Modern cars have to deal with all sorts of extra things like weight, integrated hybrid systems and safety laws. They can’t just ignore the world around them to just concentrate on the person relaxing inside.

But was it comfortable? Yes. A cruise up the A3, M25 and M40 was dispatched without much sweat. The ride on a motorway deals with itself very well. It soaks up that awful concrete section of the M25, perhaps the downfall of many a modern cruiser, without real fuss or noise. At times it can struggle to be consistent when you leave the motorway, but that’s for another day. On the long travelling lanes it accounts for itself very well. The seats are nicely proportioned, the interior feels like a decent cocoon and the suspension, although not pillow soft, never ventures toward harsh. From my home to Birmingham and back is 270 miles, and its 270 miles that didn’t leave me cursing at the end, even if it was midnight. So that, I would suggest, is job done.

Written by Ben Miles.

Update 1: Getting to grips with the DS 7

The car we have on test is a DS 7 E-Tense 4x4 300 in Opera trim. That means it’s a plug-in hybrid petrol car with a turbocharged 1.6-litre, four-cylinder engine combined with an electric motor powered by a 14.2kWh battery.

It amounts to reasonable performance, and the best figures are achieved when you make use of the hybrid system that embellishes the power of the internal combustion engine with an infusion of electric shove. A sprint from 0-62mph takes 5.9 seconds, which feels spirited enough to make strong progress, on the way to a top speed of 146mph. Not the earth-shattering figures we’ve become accustomed to in cars that really ought not to be quite so violent in a straight line, and in some ways that’s a welcome relief.

We’ll dig deeper into what this car’s like to drive in later updates, but for now let’s spend some time thinking about what this car offers on a daily basis. We’re enjoying the Opera trim level, which currently sits below only the flagship La Premiere model in the DS 7 range.

Among a long list of standard tech is DS’s Iris infotainment system, featuring 3D navigation, visible through the 12-inch HD touchscreen display. There’s a 12.3-inch digital instrument cluster, reversing camera, parking sensors, electrically adjustable heated and ventilated and massaging front seats, an electric panoramic sunroof, electric tailgate wireless smartphone charging and a pair of USB-C ports.

Our test car is also adorned with the ‘pearl grey’ interior option, a nice alternative to the black that always just feels a bit dark in cars these days.

There is one slightly confusing omission from the spec list, which is the heated steering wheel. I took delivery of this car during a particularly cold snap at the beginning of January, and never has the lack of a heated steering wheel been so sorely missed as it was here, especially in a car that at first glance appears to offer pretty much everything else.

Despite that admittedly minor peeve, there’s little we’ve found in our early experiences that has been amiss. The automatic headlights seem hell bent on sticking with full beam, even in the face of oncoming traffic, and the massaging seats give off a pretty distracting buzzing sound in certain settings.

However, the seats are comfortable, the driving position is easy to manipulate and the general feel of the interior is pleasant. It’s on a level with what you might expect from the best Volvo has to offer in terms of quality and comfort.

The cabin feels spacious, too, the front seats especially are afforded, if anything, too much room. It almost feels as though there’s a bit of wasted space in there, with relatively minimal space for storage. The rear seats are the biggest surprise. Even with the bulky panoramic sunroof in situ, there’s plenty of leg and headroom in the back for passengers in excess of six feet tall.

If you’re new to DS as a brand, the interior might be something of a shock at first glance, but if you can look beyond the excessive use of polygons the layout of the controls is convenient and logical. Little touches such as the rotating clock face above the touchscreen and the six-speaker Focal Electra sound system are also quietly appreciated, although the latter is a £1,000 option on Opera models.

Overall, initial impressions are good. There’s nothing unpleasant about driving the DS 7, in fact there’s plenty here that has made us keen to keep coming back for more. Stay tuned to hear more about our experiences with this car, next up we’ll be taking a closer look at exactly how this car feels to drive on some of the more rural roads around Goodwood.

Written by Simon Ostler.