I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I first laid eyes on a Toyota Cressida, but I vividly recall the car making an impression on me. This wasn’t a typical experience for me with Toyotas back then. Corollas, Coronas, Mark IIs, and Crowns simply blended into the traffic for me. None of them particularly stood out, for better or worse. Aside from the sporty Celica, it was challenging to name another model in Toyota’s lineup that truly captured my attention.
However, the Cressida was different. It was a car that demanded notice. While my youthful mind was primarily drawn to sports cars, I had to acknowledge that the Cressida possessed a certain presence. It was evident that this car had a distinct purpose compared to the rest of Toyota’s offerings.
Front view of a gold 1970s Toyota Cressida sedan parked curbside, showcasing its classic styling and presence as Toyota's early luxury offering.
And that was precisely the intention. The Cressida was conceived as an “accessible luxury” vehicle – a concept that might sound like an oxymoron, but one that resonated with many car buyers. The Cressida effectively communicated this message, arriving on the scene ready to assume the mantle of “luxury” within Toyota’s showrooms.
It wasn’t positioned above the Crown, of course. But the Crown had always been perceived as too formal and traditional for the broader market. By the mid-1970s, the Crown had retreated from the US market and was experiencing declining sales elsewhere. To address this situation, Toyota introduced the Cressida, imbued with sufficient luxury cues to attract a wider audience. And it largely succeeded in this mission, quickly becoming a relatively common sight on the roads.
Side profile of a gold Toyota Cressida sedan highlighting its classic lines and stance as a representative of 1970s automotive design.
Surprisingly, a Cressida sedan has never been featured on CC before. While we’ve showcased a couple of broughamy wagons, the sedan version is rarely seen, even within the Cohort. This is somewhat peculiar, considering sedans likely outsold wagons. However, such is the unpredictable nature of automotive survival.
Therefore, I’m delighted that this fairly well-preserved Cressida example, finished in a quintessential 1970s gold hue, has surfaced in San Salvador to rectify this curious oversight. And with its missing hubcaps, it embodies the perfect “curbside classic” subject.
Rear quarter view of a gold 1978 Toyota Cressida sedan, emphasizing its rear styling and the curbside setting, ideal for a classic car feature.
However, seasoned readers will know that we have technically already featured a non-wagon Cressida sedan – a JDM model under its original Corona Mark II name (hardtop pictured below), covered by Tatra87 some years ago.
Indeed, the Cressida was essentially the third generation Corona Mark II. It’s somewhat strange to realize later in life that a model you thought had disappeared actually continued to thrive in other markets. It’s akin to discovering Captain America didn’t actually perish when his car plunged off a cliff just as the TV commercial break began.
Screenshot of a 1978 Toyota Corona Mark II hardtop, the Japanese domestic market version of the Cressida sedan, highlighting its origins and design similarities.
The key takeaway is that by the time the Cressida debuted, Toyota had been gradually learning the nuances of “luxury for the masses.”
This journey began, somewhat misguidedly, with the Toyopet Crown back in 1958. Toyota’s flagship model arrived in the US in Deluxe trim, poorly suited for the North American market, and consequently sold in dismal numbers. Its advertised “luxurious foam rubber comfort” failed to impress American buyers.
Vintage advertisement for the Toyopet Crown, Toyota's initial attempt at a luxury car in the US market, featuring a family and highlighting the car's "foam rubber comfort."
While the Crown remained Toyota’s top-tier model in Japan, the company also aimed to capture the entry-level market with the Publica. This utilitarian, budget-friendly car, however, failed to resonate with Japanese buyers initially. It turned out that consumers weren’t solely driven by price when purchasing vehicles.
Black and white advertisement for the Toyota Publica, showcasing a small, basic car aimed at the budget-conscious market and Toyota's attempt to cater to the common man.
Instead, the Publica’s sales improved as the model received upgraded trim levels and features. Toyota realized that buyers appreciated cars that offered a bit “more” – be it enhanced quality, luxury, or sportiness. Consumers were willing to invest in vehicles that offered something beyond just basic transportation. While it might be a stretch, this period marked Toyota’s initial steps in understanding what Lee Iacocca later famously exemplified – giving the people what they want, but with a touch of aspirational appeal.
Thus, instead of directly competing in the high-end luxury segment, Toyota adopted a strategy of cautious, incremental progress. With subsequent models like the Corona and Corolla, luxury features and sporty variants were gradually introduced, expanding market acceptance as demand evolved.
Front view of a first-generation Toyota Corona Mark II (1968-1972), illustrating Toyota's move towards more upscale and stylish designs in their popular Corona line.
The Corona Mark II successfully elevated the Corona’s market position, attracting more affluent buyers within the economy car class. However, outside of Japan, the model didn’t achieve the sales figures Toyota anticipated. A revised approach was necessary.
The first change was the name itself. Japanese buyers were accustomed to the model’s moniker, familiar with a complex network of dealerships and sub-brands that could be confusing elsewhere. But for international markets, “Corona Mark II” was arguably cumbersome. Was it a Corona? Or a Mark II? Or a Corona Mark II?
And why “II”? Had there ever been a “Mark I”?
The changes, however, went beyond just the name. As Tatra87 previously detailed, there was substantial engineering refinement beneath the surface. With Japanese consumers becoming increasingly affluent in the 1970s, Toyota invested heavily in making their third-generation Mark II/Cressida a significantly more sophisticated offering. The JDM range for these models was extensive, with top-tier versions boasting four-wheel disc brakes, semi-trailing arm independent rear suspension (IRS), and a range of engines from 1.8L and 2.0L four-cylinders to 2.0L and 2.6L inline-sixes.
Unlike the Crown, the new Mark II/Cressida embraced a “personal luxury car” ethos in its overall package, complete with the expected luxury trimmings of the segment.
Interior view of a Toyota Cressida, highlighting the dashboard, steering wheel, and front seats, showcasing the 1970s interior design and features aimed at a more luxurious feel.
Of course, regardless of the mechanical advancements, the car’s styling was a primary draw. The Cressida’s design incorporated all the requisite luxury cues to attract buyers seeking that kind of vehicle.
According to Japanese sources, the Cressida’s design drew inspiration from classic Jaguars. Meanwhile, previous Cressida wagon posts on this site have drawn styling comparisons to Brougham-era American cars. I’m inclined to agree with the latter, especially considering the Di-noc wood trim on those wagons was undeniably Brougham-esque.
Close up detail of the front grille and headlight of a Toyota Cressida, emphasizing the design elements that suggest both European and American luxury car influences.
However, disentangling where Brougham and European influences begin and end is virtually impossible, as they often influenced each other. It’s a futile exercise, yet a strangely enjoyable one. After all, the originators of the Brougham style weren’t averse to European comparisons. The Ford LTD was touted as being “as silent as a Rolls-Royce,” and the 1969 Lincoln Mark III blatantly borrowed Rolls-Royce’s radiator grille design. Similarly, the 1970 Pontiac drew inspiration from Jaguars, albeit with arguably less successful results.
So, is the Cressida’s front end Jaguar-derived? Or is it Cordoba-Jaguar-Cordoba-inspired? Could there even be a hint of Monte Carlo in the mix?
Front three-quarter view of a Toyota Cressida sedan, focusing on the front fender and wheel, prompting questions about its design origins and influences from Jaguar or American luxury cars.
And are those simulated fender flares Jaguar-inspired, as Japanese sources suggest? Or are they more reminiscent of Monte Carlo or Rolls-Royce design cues?
How can one definitively know? And does it even truly matter?
Side profile of a gold Toyota Cressida sedan, showing its full length and body shape, raising questions about its design coherence and the blend of different styling influences.
Ultimately, from a product planning perspective, the crucial factor is whether the public embraces the concept. And judging by the Cressida’s market success, buyers clearly bought into its Brougham-Euro/Euro-Brougham design philosophy.
Rear view of a gold Toyota Cressida sedan, capturing the taillights and rear bumper, and reflecting on the car's overall design appeal to 1970s luxury car buyers.
This era was indeed marked by frequent accusations of Japanese cars having derivative styling. And to some extent, this was true. But genuine originality is rare across the board when examined closely.
The critical aspect is whether a design feels cohesive once all the various influences and references are incorporated. This is easier said than done, as evidenced by numerous aesthetically challenged Datsuns from the 1970s. However, by the late 1970s, Toyota’s designs were developing a distinct identity, and in a largely successful way.
Front view of a Toyota Cressida wagon, a less common body style, illustrating the Cressida's design language applied to a different vehicle form factor.
Do elements of Jaguar, Cordoba, Monte Carlo, and others exist in the Cressida’s design? Undoubtedly. But nothing appears particularly out of place or exaggerated.
Close up of the front end of a Toyota Cressida wagon, showing the grille and headlights, and comparing its styling to the sedan version and other luxury car designs of the era.
Keen observers might have noticed that I’ve actually included two Cressidas in this post. Here’s the second one – a wagon, of all things. This further highlights the curious phenomenon of Cressida wagons having a higher survival rate compared to sedans.
Without the Di-noc wood trim found on previous examples, this wagon feels significantly less Brougham-inspired. It doesn’t particularly evoke Jaguar either. Perhaps because Jaguar wagons were a rarity, at least until their Ford ownership era.
Speaking of European influences, the Cressida’s interior certainly leaned more in that direction. Even in this somewhat blurry image, the instrument cluster is clearly distinct from those found in a 1970s Lincoln. It’s worth noting that Cressidas in Central America were often less optioned-out than those in Japan or the US, with 1.8L and 2.0L four-cylinder engines being the standard powertrains in the region, and most featuring manual transmissions.
Ultimately, I was very pleased to encounter this vintage Cressida sedan. Bathed in the golden light of dusk by the curbside, the car evoked pleasant childhood memories. These Cressidas serve as a reminder of Toyota’s progressive and insightful marketing strategies. The model acted as a crucial stepping stone towards a future where the idea of Toyota as a purveyor of luxury vehicles would no longer seem unusual… especially when wearing a different badge.
Front three-quarter view of a gold Toyota Cressida sedan parked by a curb at dusk, capturing a nostalgic and reflective mood, and summarizing the Cressida's historical significance for Toyota.
Related CC reading:
Curbside Classic: 1978 Toyota Cressida Wagon – I Love What You Do For Me, Mini-Cordoba Wagon
CC Capsule: 1978 Toyota Corona Mark II (X30) GL 2000 – Out In The Open
CC Outtake: Toyota Cressida Wagon – From Brougham-Style To Bosozoku-Style
