Àlamode française
One look at the DS 3 Crossback tells you that it’s no replacement for the DS 3. Indeed that little hatch, an old fave around here, lives on for a while. But the big picture is that three-door supermini sales are wilting as small crossovers rage across their turf.
While the bigger DS 7 Crossback wears conservative sheet metal, the little 3 rocks a freestyle shape. The surfaces are rippled, the openings florid. Family DNA shows in the nose’s LED sideburns, and in the shark’s-fin side pillar. The doorhandles motor out, then back to flush when you lock up or drive off.
Only the French would make a car interior quite like this. It’s about the embellishment and the motifs. Sure enough, that diamond pattern reverberates across the cabin like the print on a headscarf. It’s there in the shape of the switchgear, the graphics of the screens, the vents, the layout. And that’s not knurling on the switches, it’s guillochage, s’il vous plaît.
Yes it’s all a bit blingy, but you might find it refreshingly distinctive, and the materials are rich for this class.
The seats hold you nicely. The centre screen reacts snappily to your touch, but it could use a couple more hardware switches. All versions have screen instruments for the driver, and their graphics sacrifice clarity to the diamond design theme. Sigh. Better shell out for the usefully clear HUD, then.
Being stuck in the back isn’t so great. Space doesn’t quite match some of the
non-premium mob such as the Seat Ateca, VW Tiguan or Peugeot 3008. And the shark’s fin subtracts from light and visibility. Small kids are going to hate that.
It’s a car made out of the Peugeot Group’s new compact platform that’s also providing undergirdings for the new Peugeot 208 and then the Vauxhall Corsa, though those two will have a shorter wheelbase.
The engine selection reflects wider market trends, with just a solitary diesel that makes a measly 100bhp. A full-electric version arrives soon – see the box opposite. The petrols are all 1.2-litre three-cylinders, and come as a 100bhp manual, and 130bhp or 155bhp strapped to a well-behaved automatic gearbox.
Performance isn’t bad at all because it’s skinny: most versions are around 1,200kg. The three-cylinder engine is as chirpy as ever. The 130bhp version is torquey in the low to mid ranges, and enough for most jobs. When not being flogged, it burbles away in the background. The 155bhp version finds more poke at high revs, without entirely transforming things.
The chassis softly absorbs most bumps at all speeds. You feel the roll and pitch, of course, and a crest can send things into mild float. The high-geared steering asks for careful easing into bends, or the roll can get out of phase with your inputs.
But it’s quite fun when you play by its rules: little understeer, decent traction
“IT’S A BIT BLINGY, BUT YOU MIGHT FIND IT REFRESHINGLY DISTINCTIVE”
in tight bends and unexpected chassis feedback in quicker ones. Usual crossover rules apply, mind: if this stuff matters to you, buy a hatchback.
The driver assist and lane-keeping are pretty alert and well-calibrated as these things go. But more worthwhile are the excellent matrix LED headlamps, the sort where you leave them on high beam and they automagically cast shadows around other cars so’s not to dazzle.
Things kick off at £21,550, with phone mirroring, but rise steeply onward. For those fancy headlamps, watchstrap leather, HUD, and most (but not all) of the available driver assist, you’re into £31k. Or a tastily optioned Audi A3.