Features

To build a new Fiat 500 should be enough of a story. It ought to be perfectly sufficient to create a visual revival of the car that Italy, the unchallenged international champion of automotive cool, holds dearest to its heart.

The car that embodies effortless Italian style, the car that epitomises the Italian ability to accomplish miracles from simple ingredients, the car in which at least two generations of Italians learnt to drive, and in which they travelled and learned the lie of their land.

Also, of course, it was the car (and here we perhaps get to the root of their affection for it) in which they learnt, through nocturnal lay-by fumblings, how to do the amore thing under constrained physical circumstances.

But no, even all of that isn't sufficient for the ambition of the revitalised Fiat. The 500 is more than a revival, more than a superficial visual cash-in. It's also what Fiat has historically done well and is set to do even better now: a small car that manages to prevent you longing for a bigger one. Where, four years ago, Fiat as a company was near-bankrupt, not just financially but creatively, the new 500 stands for the renewed purpose and quick-wittedness of the whole company.

It won't just be a firework car - one that explodes into our consciousness, but rapidly fizzles - it will be a family of cars that gets developed, so as to lead Fiat's charge to the forefront of small-car safety, engine technology and style. There will be versions with truly revolutionary powertrains for wildly impressive economy. There'll be an Abarth, a micro-estate, a cabrio. The fun's just beginning.

But first to the here and now: a car that's beautifully worked. Roberto Giolito's shape is properly modern in its surfaces, evoking a strengthened version of the original. It's modern-scale short - spare and taut, economical of road space, rather than profligate of it, like the over big yet under-accommodating Beetle. It looks expensive too, with its plump surfaces, neatly thought out cutlines and jewelled lights and door handles.

Inside, the lushness continues. Almost nothing that's visible is filched from the Fiat partsbin; it's mostly bespoke, and of a distinctly higher quality. Even the hazard flasher button is a little ruby, a red symbol embedded in a clear resin lozenge. The instrument pack is unique, a spacesaving layout that lets you read everything through the steering wheel, and leaves the rest of the dash uncluttered like the classic 500's.

It consists of four concentric circles. At the centre, you have LCD info on fuel, temperature and trip computer. Outside that, a stubby rev counter needle revolves, its centre portion obscured by that LCD panel so you see only its tip. Beyond that is the tip of the speedo needle.

Outside the speedo is a circle of warning lights. It might sound confusing, but in practice it works fine. When you're in a low gear, the speedo needle chases the tach around the dial, but in high gears, it's the speed readout that's winning the race. Goads you on, that does.

There are endless choices of trim and materials and colours. Some of them are retro, including a very fine houndstooth check or a red/cream colour scheme. Some, such as the perforated leather with panels of rucksack material, are determinedly modern. A lick of bodycolour paint runs across the dash, and the climate and stereo panels are cream or black to coordinate or contrast.

Have fun with the order form. Little Italian flags for the wings, big numbers on the bonnet, stripes, a chequered roof, extra chrome and lights - it's all there for the having, when you're in the mood to spend, spend, spend.