From Minimalism to Mishap: The Lexus Jeddah Showroom’s Architectural Decline

architectural criticism

“The problem is not change, but decline. The old design suffered from a poverty of expression, but at least it had an honest simplicity. The renewal only covered this poverty with layers of falsehood and meaningless complexity. From architectural ignorance to absolute ignorance, this is the path.”

I still remember back in the early 2000s, sitting in a university lecture when one of our professors projected the image of a newly completed Lexus showroom in Jeddah. It wasn’t a masterpiece in global terms, but in that moment it felt sharp, clean, and almost futuristic. A glassy, pyramid-like façade, with blue reflective surfaces and a sense of restrained confidence. For a country still experimenting with corporate identity in architecture, it stood out. Minimalistic, modest, but coherent.

Two decades later, the story has taken a darker turn. The building is now undergoing renovation, and what was once a light, minimalistic composition has been smothered beneath layers of marble, gold trims, and poorly executed cladding. Walking past it today feels like a crime scene of design. The precision of the old lines has been replaced with heavy, beige stone, badly cut and unevenly joined. Edges are rough, finishes sloppy, and the once subtle façade has been weighed down by awkward protrusions and arbitrary ornamentation.

It is as if someone took a building that was simple and neat, and dressed it in clothes that never fit—loud patterns, mismatched colors, and ill-considered textures. The result is neither luxurious nor innovative. It is an architectural heresy, a failure of taste and execution. Even the material choice betrays weakness. The terrazzo-like stone fractures awkwardly, while the golden highlights feel borrowed from a pastiche of shopping malls rather than aligned with the brand identity of Lexus.

The irony is painful. Lexus, as a car manufacturer, has long moved toward sharper lines, futuristic aesthetics, and disciplined minimalism. Yet its Jeddah showroom is now sliding backward into a confused language that undermines both corporate image and architectural credibility. What was once aligned with the millennium’s optimism now reads as a parody of excess.

This is not just about materials. It is about architectural responsibility. Renovation should preserve coherence, not erase it. It should adapt to contemporary needs without desecrating the spatial DNA of the original. Instead, what we see here is a failure on three levels: the designer who conceived the misguided scheme, the contractor who executed it carelessly, and the approving authority that accepted a downgrade over a restoration.

In the wider context of projects in Saudi Arabia—many of which today experiment with daring forms and innovative building materials—this case feels like a cautionary tale. Not every intervention is progress. Sometimes, the bravest decision is restraint.

Architecture in cities like Jeddah deserves more than cosmetic layering. It deserves memory, precision, and respect. The Lexus showroom could have been restored as a modest yet dignified relic of early 2000s urban design. Instead, it has been disfigured into a symbol of missed opportunity.

In 2025, as Saudi Arabia positions itself at the forefront of global sustainability and architectural ambition, this showroom stands as a reminder that failure is not only found in forgotten buildings, but also in the ones we choose to ruin under the banner of renewal.