Apple and the End of the Car

Now that the car is evolving into essentially a smartphone on wheels, it’s no wonder Apple is kicking the tyres.

First, there is the transition from internal combustion engines to electric motors, which have far fewer mechanical parts. Now, enabled by that change, a second shift is under way—one that’s a prerequisite for a self-driving future.

For a century, the automobile was a system of interoperating mechanics: engine, transmission, drive shaft, brakes, etc. As those mechanics evolved, electronic sensors and processors were brought in to assist them, but the concepts changed little. The result was cars with dozens or hundreds of specialized microchips that didn’t talk to each other. Now that auto makers are moving to electric motors, elaborate entertainment systems and adaptive cruise control, cars need central computers to control all these things—why not use them to control everything?

At the hardware level, this might just mean fewer chips handling more of a car’s functions. Yet it has profound implications for what future cars will be capable of, how car makers will make money, and who will survive—and thrive—in what could soon be a global automotive industry made unrecognizable to us today.

No one inside Apple is saying exactly what its plans are, but the company has been contemplating a role in autos for years, spending huge sums on hiring hundreds, then eliminating their roles when its priorities change, and almost as quickly hiring other engineers with similar skill sets, then firing yet more engineers, all to realize a still-mysterious ultimate vision.

The company also recently approached auto makers including Hyundai about a potential manufacturing partnership, then saw talks fizzle. It’s just as likely Apple is, as usual, experimenting until or unless it hits on something it thinks it can do better than anyone else.

“We have seen enough echoes in the supply chain that we know Apple is really looking into every detail of car engineering and car manufacturing,” says Peter Fintl, director of technology and innovation for Capgemini Engineering Germany, part of a multinational that works with dozens of auto makers and parts manufacturers. “But nobody knows if what Apple creates will be a car or a tech platform or a mobility service,” he adds.

Many other tech companies, including Intel, Nvidia, Huawei, Baidu, Amazon and Google parent Alphabet, are pushing into the usually staid, conservative and relatively low-margin world of automobiles and their parts. Meanwhile, traditional auto makers like Ford, General Motors, Toyota, Daimler and Volkswagen, plus longtime automotive suppliers such as Bosch, ZF and Magna, are trying to behave more like those tech companies.

Basically, everyone is shifting their emphasis to software—and hiring like crazy to do it. In the past year, almost every major automotive company has advertised that it would like to hire many more software developers. Volkswagen, for example, announced in March 2019 that it would add 2,000 to its technical development team; the company already employs thousands of software engineers.

“Software is eating the world, and cars are next on the menu,” says Jim Adler, managing director of Toyota AI Ventures, a venture-capital fund owned by the car maker.

From hardware to software

Today’s most complicated automobiles have up to 200 computers in them, just smart enough to do their jobs controlling everything from the engine and automatic braking system to the air conditioner and in-dash entertainment, says Johannes Deichmann, a partner at McKinsey whose expertise is software and electronics in automobiles. These computers, made by an assortment of suppliers, tend to run proprietary software, making them largely inaccessible even to the auto maker.

Such modularity is fine up to a point—when building a Chevy Malibu, does GM really need to know how the windshield-wiper computer works? Yet the proliferation of these narrow-minded processors has led to unsustainable complexity, says Mr. Deichmann.

Tesla, as you might imagine, has been instrumental in pushing the auto industry in a new direction. Since the first Model S, Tesla pioneered replacing hundreds of small computers with a handful of bigger, more powerful ones, says Jan Becker, chief executive of Apex.ai, a Palo Alto-based automotive-software startup. Systems that used to require dedicated microchips now run in separate software modules instead.

This is why Tesla can add new capabilities to its vehicles through over-the-air updates, he adds. Want better acceleration, longer range, an enhanced self-driving system, or your in-dash entertainment system to play fart noises every time you flip your turn signal? Tesla has shown they’re just a software upgrade away. It’s very much like the model of continual updates to the software in our mobile devices we’ve come to expect.

Following suit, auto makers are scrambling to build or commission their own whole-car operating systems. The field is still wide open, says Mr. Fintl. Nvidia offers its Drive OS, VW and Daimler have announced they are, like Tesla, working on their own, and Google is insinuating itself ever deeper into vehicles through its Android Auto OS. To date, it’s still focused on in-dash entertainment and navigation, but Ford recently announced that as of 2023, it will use Android in the displays of all models sold outside of China—including the just-revealed Ford F-150 Lightning—and will also use Google to help manage the data streams collected from its vehicles. GM is also using Android in its all-electric Hummer.

This is where Apple might face a tough decision: While it has the chance to flex its enormous software and chip-making expertise to create a next-generation platform for the highest bidder, the company tends to create products for its own brand, not components for others. Besides, the strategy of being just another supplier to auto makers is already being pursued by Intel (via Mobileye), Alphabet (via Waymo and Android Auto), Nvidia and others.

The enormous complexity and expense of making and delivering vehicles by the thousands, much less millions—and making them safe—are why so many tech companies are joining forces with automobile companies, rather than trying to build their own vehicles, says Ryan Robinson, automotive research leader at Deloitte.

While analysts for years predicted that big auto makers would make short work of Tesla, it turns out electric vehicles are more about software than hardware. And auto makers aren’t yet good at the kind of software today’s cars and drivers demand. Volkswagen decided last June that, despite years of development, it had to delay the debut of a flagship electric vehicle because its software wasn’t ready.

Enter Apple

“This is the big industry mystery, if a famous fruit company is entering the game,” says Mr. Deichmann.

Apple already has its CarPlay in-dash interface for iPhones. But it’s limited to functions such as entertainment and navigation, and has nothing to do with the deeper integration and capabilities required of a true vehicle operating system. Apple has also demonstrated tremendous capabilities in designing the kinds of microchips and sensors that a smart automobile would require, though for now they’re mainly found in iPhones, iPads and Macs.

Apple didn’t respond to requests for comment.

Apple could build an operating system for a whole vehicle, and run it on its own silicon. But the company seeks to vertically integrate whenever possible, to control every aspect of the user experience. So the question is: Would a car maker let Apple treat it as the company once treated AT&T, when it first rolled out its iPhone? Or the music labels, when it launched iTunes? At a stroke, it turned the tables and took control of massive markets and significant portions of our lives.

This February, Apple’s partnership talks with Hyundai broke down, possibly over Hyundai’s concerns about being absorbed into the Apple Borg. Immediately after, Nissan signalled it might be willing to work with Apple.

If there is any tech company on earth with the resources to go it alone, building a new automaker from the ground up, it’s Apple. But there is no indication this is the company’s aim. If Tesla is the model here, it’s unclear why Apple’s executives would want to endure the tortuous process of building the manufacturing, testing and service capacities this path would require.

If providing the brains for other auto makers’ vehicles is unlikely, and competing directly with Tesla and every other electric vehicle startup unsavoury, that still leaves another option for Apple. As the automotive industry inches toward self-driving taxi services, Apple’s persistence in both acquiring and developing software and hardware for electric, autonomous vehicles could signal its long-term ambitions. Could an Apple mobility company, instead of an Apple car, make the most sense?

GM’s Cruise, Amazon’s Zoox and many others are already moving down this path. But since no such robot-taxi service yet exists, save for some limited experiments by Waymo in Arizona, there is potential for Apple to create something it controls completely, while also providing significant additional revenue to a struggling automaker such as Nissan.

Apple and others could design and commission vehicles that bear their branding, and operate as part of a service they provide, with no trace of the actual manufacturer on them, says Mr. Deichmann.

Apple, after all, isn’t an electronics manufacturer. In fact, it outsources all of its manufacturing, much of it to Foxconn—which as it happens is building up its own auto-making capabilities. Rather, Apple is first and foremost a customer-focused company that uses technical know-how to develop products physically made by contractors like Foxconn. It just happens that deep technical expertise is how it realizes its leaders’ visions. And because fully autonomous driving is turning out to be much harder than anyone predicted, Apple could have the time it would need to develop its own service.

It’s quite possible that Apple will end up spending billions on attempts to develop an electric car without ever releasing a product. Or maybe it offers a product or service that fizzles. It’s possible that transportation is so different in scope and complexity from personal and mobile computing that the only way to succeed is through the kind of grand-scale collaboration Apple isn’t known for.

Toyota chief Akio Toyoda said in March that Apple should prepare itself for a 40-year commitment if it offers cars to consumers. This makes sense, especially if the goal turns out to be not merely to create a car, but to replace a significant portion of the world’s 1.4 billion cars with a completely autonomous, emissions-free, radically transformed transportation system. In other words, a trillion-dollar revolution—and Apple’s already pulled off one of those.

LIKE MARVEL VILLAINS, most fashion writers have origin stories. Mine began with a navy nylon Prada purse, salvaged from a Boston thrift store when I was a teen in the 1990s. Scuffed with black streaks and sagging, it was terribly beat-up. But I saw it as a golden ticket to a future, chicer self. No longer a screechy suburban theatre kid, I would revamp myself as sophisticated, arch, even aloof. The bag, I reasoned, would lead the way.

That fall, I slung it against my shoulder like a shotgun and marched into school, where a girl far more interesting than I was called out, “Hey, cool bag.” After feigning apathy —“I don’t know, you could use a Sharpie on a lunch bag and it would look the same”—we became friends. She introduced me to a former classmate who worked at a magazine. That woman helped me get an internship, which led to a job.

Twenty years later, I still wonder how big of a role that Prada purse played in my future—and whether designer bags can function as a silent partner in our success. Branded luxury bags took off in 1957, when Grace Kelly posed with an Hermès bag in Life magazine. (Hermès renamed that bag “the Kelly” in 1973.) The term “status bag” was popularised in 1990 by Gaile Robinson in the Los Angeles Times, describing any purse that projects social or economic power. Not surprisingly, these accessories are costly. Kelly bags cost over $10,000; ditto Chanel’s 11.22 handbag. Some bags by Louis Vuitton and Dior command similar price points. The cost isn’t repelling customers—both brands reported revenue surges in 2023. But isn’t there something dusty about the idea that a branded bag carries meaning along with your phone and wallet? How much status can a status bag deliver in 2024?

Quite a lot, said Daniel Langer, a business professor at Pepperdine University and the CEO of Équité, a Swiss luxury consulting firm. Beginning in 2007, Langer showed a series of photo portraits to hundreds of people across Europe, Asia and the U.S., then asked them 60 questions. Those pictured carrying a luxury handbag were seen as “more attractive, more intelligent, more interesting,” he said. The conclusion was “so ridiculous” to Langer that he repeated the studies several times over the next decade and a half. The results were always the same: “Purchasing a ‘status bag’ will prepare you to be more successful in your social actions. That is the data.”

Intrigued, I gathered various Very Important Purses—I borrowed some from friends, and others from brands—to see if they could elevate my station with the same unspoken oomph as a “Pride and Prejudice” suitor.

First, I took Alaïa’s Le Teckel bag—a narrow purse resembling an elegant flute case and carried by actress Margot Robbie—to New York’s Carlyle Hotel on a Saturday night. The line for the famous Bemelmans Bar stretched to the fire exit. “Can I get a table right away?” I asked the host, holding out my bag like a passport before an international flight. “It’s very busy,” he said in hushed tones. “But come sit. A table should open soon.” I sank into one of the Carlyle’s lush red sofas and sipped a martini while waiting—a much nicer way to kill 30 minutes than slumped against a lobby wall.

Wondering if this was a one-time thing, I called up Desta, the mononymous “culture director” (read: gatekeeper) who has worked for Manhattan celebrity hide-outs like Chapel Bar and Boom, the Standard Hotel bar that hosts the Met Gala’s official after party. “Sure, we pay attention to bags,” he said. “Not too long ago at Veronika,” the Park Avenue restaurant where Desta also steered the social ship, “we had one table left. A woman had a Saint Laurent bag from the Hedi Era,” he said, referencing Hedi Slimane , the brand’s revered designer from 2012 to 2016. “I said, ‘Give her the table. She appreciates style. She’ll appreciate this place.’”

Some say a status bag can open professional doors, too. Cleo Capital founder Sarah Kunst, who lives between San Francisco and London, notes that in private-equity circles, these accessories can act as a quick head-nod in introductory situations. Kunst says that especially as a Black woman, she found a designer bag to be “almost like armour” at the beginning of her career. “You put it on, and if you’re walking into a work event or a happy hour where you need to network, it can help you fit in immediately.” She cites Chanel flap bags made from the brand’s signature quilted leather and stamped with a double-C logo as an industry favourite. “People love to talk about them. They’ll say, ‘Ohhh, I love your bag,’ in a low voice.” They talk to you, said Kunst, “like you’re a tiger.”

For high-stakes jobs that rely on commissions—sports agents or sales reps, for instance—a fancy handbag can help establish credibility. “It says, ‘I’m succeeding at my job,’” said Mary Bonnet, vice president of the Oppenheim Group, the California real-estate firm at the centre of Netflix reality show “Selling Sunset.” As a new real-estate agent in her 20s, Bonnet brought a fake designer bag to a meeting. To her horror, a potential buyer had the real thing. “I work in an industry where trust is important, and there I was being inauthentic. That was a real lesson.” Now Bonnet rotates several (real) Saint Laurent and Chanel bags, but notes that a super-expensive purse could alienate some clients. “I don’t think I’d walk into [some client homes] with a giant Hermès bag.”

Hermès bags are supposedly the apex predator of purses. But I didn’t feel invincible when I strapped a Kelly bag around my chest like a pebbled-leather ammo belt. The dun-brown purse cost $11,800, a sum that prompted my boyfriend to ask if I needed a bodyguard. Shaking with “is this insured?” anxiety, I walked into a showing for an $8.5 million apartment steps from Central Park. I made it through the door but was soon stopped by a gruff real-estate agent asking if I had an appointment. No, but I had an Hermès bag? Alas, it wasn’t enough. The gleaming black door closed in my face.

“What went wrong?” I asked Dafna Goor, a London Business School professor who studies the psychology behind luxury purchases. “You felt nervous,” she replied. “That always makes others uncomfortable, especially in a high stakes situation,” like an open house with jittery agents. Goor said recognisable bags from Louis Vuitton and Christian Dior are also often faked, which can lead to suspicion if not paired with “other signals of wealth.”

“You can’t just treat a bag as a backstage pass,” said Jess Graves, who runs the shopping Substack the Love List. Graves says bags are more of a secret code shared between potential connections. “I’ve been in line for coffee and a woman will see my Margaux [from the Row] and go, ‘Oh, I know that bag.’ Then we’ll chat.” Graves moved from Atlanta to Manhattan in 2023, and says she’s made some new, local friends thanks to these “bag chats.”

I had my own bag chat that night, when I brought Khaite’s Olivia—a slim crescent of shiny maroon leather—to a house party thrown by a rock star I’d never met. In fact I knew hardly any guests, but as I stood in the kitchen, a woman in vintage Chanel pointed to my bag and asked, “How did you get that colour? It’s sold out!” Before I could tell her my name, she told me the make and model of my purse. Then she laughed about her ex-boss, a tech billionaire, and encouraged me to buy some cryptocurrency. The token I picked surged nearly 30% in about a week. Now I was onto something—a status bag that might bring not just status, but an actual market return.

Thanks to their prominence on social media, certain bags have gained favour among Gen Zers. “TikTok and Instagram make some luxury items even more visible and more desirable to young people,” said Goor. I experienced this firsthand on a stormy Saturday morning, when a girl in a college hoodie pointed at my Miu Miu Wander bag as I puddle-hopped through downtown New York. The piglet-pink purse is a TikTok favourite seen on young stars like Sydney Sweeney and Hailey Bieber. “Your bag is everything!” yelled the girl from the crosswalk. “Thanks, can I have your umbrella?” I shouted back. She laughed and left. My Wander had made a splash—but it couldn’t keep me dry. I ran to the subway, soaked. The bag looked even better wet.

Changing the Status Bag Quo

Everyone loves an ingénue—fashion insiders included. Perhaps that’s why at Paris Fashion Week in September, newer handbags from Bottega Veneta and Loewe jostled for space and street-style flashbulbs.

“These bags, especially ones by independent labels like Khaite, are quieter signals of cultural access,” explained Goor. “Everyone knows what an Hermès Kelly bag is. So now there need to be new signals” beyond traditional status bags to convey power.

Sasha Bikoff Cooper, a Manhattan interior designer, says there’s a less cynical explanation for why these bags have captured celebrity fans—and more important, paying customers. “They’re fresh and also beautiful,” she said. “Hermès is always classic. It’s like a first love. But you want newness, too.”

The Wall Street Journal is not compensated by retailers listed in its articles as outlets for products. Listed retailers frequently are not the sole retail outlets.

Apple and the End of the Car

As cars become computers with wheels, Apple is eyeing the $5 trillion auto market.

From hardware to software

Enter Apple

Some designer handbags like the Hermès Kelly have implied power. But can a purse alone really get you a restaurant table—or even a job?

Changing the Status Bag Quo