Before iconic performances on the race track – like the time in the 1930 Grand Prix when she crossed the finish line backwards, claiming third place – and earning the Women’s Land Speed Record title, Mariette Hélène Detangle grew up in a small village outside Paris.
She moved to the city when she was 16, and she started modelling and performing as a dancer at clubs and cabaret bars. She became so beloved and famous that she earned enough money to buy herself a house, a yacht and – most importantly – a Citroën.
In the 1920s, she had an accident while downhill skiing, and the resulting knee injury all but ended her career as a dancer. Not one to sit around feeling sorry for herself, Hellé got behind the wheel and discovered the thing that would change her life.
Her lover at the time introduced her to Ettore Bugatti, who loaned her a car, a T43A, luring her away from driving her blue Oméga-Six – the vehicle she’d driven to victory in an all-female Grand Prix race at Autodrome de Montlhéry in 1929. In her next Bugatti, a 35C, she set a new speed record of 194km/h and earned the nickname ‘Bugatti Queen’. Crowds loved watching her signature blue car whip around the track, and she was said to drive with her mouth open, wearing shirts with bows on the sleeves, or even swimsuits, instead of a traditional uniform.
In the 1920s and ’30s, she raced against male drivers in over 75 Grand Prix circuits, rallies and hillclimbs across Europe, South America and the United States. “It’s all I ever ask for,” she told French newspaper L’Intransigeant in 1930, “just to show what I can do, without a handicap, against men.”
She was in second place behind one of those men – Brazilian champion Manuel de Teffé – during the final lap of the São Paulo Grand Prix in 1936 when her life changed forever. Mixed reports describe what happened as Hellé sped around the track in her blue Alfa Romeo: some say it was the local fans running onto the track to cheer on Teffé, others (including Hellé’s lover and mechanic, Arnaldo Binelli, who was videotaping the race) say it was a hay bale, supposed to separate the crowd from the track, that tumbled down and was retrieved by a police officer. Either way, an obstacle in her path caused Hellé’s car to veer off course.
The car crashed into the spectators, killing four people and injuring 30. Thrown from the car, Hellé landed on a man, who was killed. People thought Hellé had also died, but the man absorbed the impact of their collision, and after three days in a coma, Hellé awoke. She spent several months in hospital, and earned hero status among the people of Brazil.
Hellé’s first race following the accident was an endurance trial for female drivers, held again at Montlhéry, a track Hellé knew like the back of her hand. As part of a five-woman team, she drove for 10 straight days and nights, breaking a number of records that are said to stand today.
Hellé was eager to re-join the Bugatti team and reinstate herself at the top of the racing industry again, but the double shock of her friend Jean Bugatti’s death in August 1939 and the commencement of World War II the following month halted her plans. She relocated to her namesake – the French Riviera town of Nice – during the German occupation of France.
With the war well over, Hellé was ready to get back on the track. In 1949, ahead of the Monte Carlo Rally, she was at a party celebrating the armistice and the return of racing when she and her co-driver, Anne Itier, were approached by Louis Chiron, a local to Monte Carlo and another renowned driver. Out of nowhere, he proclaimed loud enough for everyone to hear that Hellé was a traitor to France, and had been a Gestapo agent during the war. He demanded the race organisers ban her from participating.
Some say Chiron was trying to delegitimise women in racing by aiming for the woman at the top of the industry; others say he was jealous of Hellé’s fame and the attention she received; others believe he’d confused her with another French Grand Prix driver, Violette Morris, who actually was a Gestapo agent. Whatever Chiron’s motives, the rumours led to Hellé being stripped of the respect and success she’d earned, along with her sponsorships and opportunity.
The end of her life was a world away from where it began: Hellé died alone and without money after spending her final years living in a slum under an alias. It wasn’t until 2004 – 20 years after she died – that her reputation was restored and many of us learned about her story thanks to The Bugatti Queen, a biography by Miranda Seymour.