A Small Car with a Grand Soul

We’ve been through a lot together. Late nights in the city. Spontaneous road trips.
A long, snow-covered drive to Montreal. She’s been there through life-defining relationships,
renovations, relocations, and fatherhood.

But beyond the memories, Cooperese taught me something far deeper:

Design is not just about how things look or even how they work—it’s about how they make you
feel over time.

Presence over Power

From the very beginning, this car had a presence. You don’t expect that from a small hatchback, but the R53 doesn’t ask for attention—it commands it with charm. The wide stance, the wheels pushed to the corners, the hood scoop that hints at what lies beneath—it’s confident without being aggressive. Friendly, but fierce. There’s a kind of posture to it—bulldog-like, they say. It looks like it’s ready to pounce. And yet, its proportions are so finely tuned that nothing feels superfluous. It just feels right.

The Interior that Disappears

Inside, its design depths reveal itself even better. The cockpit is intimate, and highly intuitive. The sightlines are extraordinary. The upright windshield, wide windows, and expansive glass sunroof make the world feel close. The car disappears around you—what remains is just the road, the wind, your connection to the surroundings and within.

It’s not luxurious in the traditional sense, but it’s thoughtful. The toggle switches. The cheeky, oversized speedometer. The seats that hold you just snug enough to feel planted. Everything is where it should be, and nothing tries too hard.

And somehow, impossibly, it’s roomy. We once packed four adults and a weekend’s worth of bags for my wife’s sister’s graduation trip to Boston. Three hours, no complaints. Just laughter, good music, and the open road. Another time, we crammed it full of lumber, tiles, and panels for our Brooklyn apartment renovation. I even fit a handful of 2x4s , angling them just so, aided by the generous roof aperture and wide window openings.

And then there was that day we transported what felt like a miniature jungle to our rooftop—potted plants, flowers, and a young maple tree whose branches reached toward the sky, stretching up through the open sunroof like it had found its place in the world.

That wasn’t a car moment. That was a life moment.

And Cooperese made it happen.

Design that Lives and Breathes

The R53 isn’t just mechanical—it’s musical. The whine of the supercharger, the growl on acceleration, the clarity of the sound system that made even ordinary playlists feel like curated performances. It made you feel the drive. The way music and movement merge in this Mini is rare. It’s joyful, immersive. It makes the mundane magnificent.

My Daughters’ Favorite Car

When we moved to Sofia, we brought her with us. Because some things you don’t leave behind.

Both of my daughters took their first-ever doctor visits in this car. They don’t know specs, or heritage, or automotive history. But they know joy. And they know that riding in Cooperese feels different. More alive. More fun. They always ask to take the Mini, even if there’s a newer, shinier car parked next to it.

Children are the best design critics: They don’t rationalize—they just feel.

The Soul of Great Design

The R53 is a masterclass in design with soul. It wasn’t made to chase trends or outperform rivals on paper. It was made with intent, with heritage, with spirit. It invites you in. It holds space for your life. It becomes part of your story.

And that’s what great design does. It doesn’t just perform—it connects. It creates relationships that last.

That’s sustainability no one talks about:

Not recycled plastic or carbon-neutral factories—but the kind of beauty and utility that makes you never want to let go.

Sustainability through Attachment

Designers talk a lot about circular economy and green materials. All important. But what if we also designed for emotional durability?

What if more objects were made with such clarity and care that they became part of people’s lives for decades—not years?

That’s the kind of sustainability I believe in. That’s what Cooperese taught me.

A Final Thought

I don’t know if I’ll ever sell her. Maybe she’ll go to my daughters one day as both have expressed
keen interest. Or maybe she’ll just stay with me—this tiny black bulldog of a car that’s carried
so much more than just cargo.

She carried memories.
Moments.
Me.

And in doing so, she showed me what design can truly be.
Not just useful.
Not just beautiful.
But alive.

Lachezar Tsvetanov
Founder and Creative Director
Studio Novo