You sit a bit higher than the modern supermini norm in the Zoe and there’s no base height adjustment on the seat. You get a decent range of adjustment on the steering column, though, as well as competitive headroom and legroom and decent cushioning under your backside.
Most of the cabin architecture is derived from the Renault Clio’s, with the fascia plastics given a dash of lighter colour for a point of difference. The R-Link multimedia system’s seven-inch touchscreen in particular reminds you of Renault Clio, as does the shape of the steering wheel, the air vents and the centre console. Does a special car like an EV deserve a more special ambience? Maybe.
In front of the driver, in lieu of normal instrument dials, is a thin TFT colour display showing remaining battery life and range, a digital speedometer and the usual trip computer functions. It’s all very intelligible and there are colour graphics to tell you when the battery is regenerating or discharging.
Farther back, there are fewer packaging compromises than EV early adopters might be used to. The 338-litre boot is deep and can be enlarged by flopping down the one-piece rear seatback. Passenger space in the second row is also very competitive. In terms of space, the Zoe is as usable as any supermini.
There’s a hint of apparent cheapness in one or two places, though. The way that the doors ping as they close and the thin, loose boot lining seem unwelcome vestiges of an attempt to cut cost or weight. Or both.
