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that sells cars using the emotional touchpoints of French
elegance and savoir faire. However, before they became
cults jealously guarded by billionaire collectors and design
mavens, these cars were symbols of the post-war order as
envisaged by Paris and London: of a world still dominated by a
culturally and technologically advanced, post-colonial Europe.
B
ut if they were perceived at the time as heralds of
a neo-imperial future, it was a future that never
happened. A year after the triumphant launch of the
DS, Colonel Nasser nationalised the Suez Canal. Operated by
a Franco-British company, the canal was suddenly in hostile
hands. In secret, France and Britain plotted its recapture and
their invasion in late 1956, that could well have been a military
success, was a political catastrophe. The US was outraged, the
Soviet Union threatened to intervene, and French and British
forces were withdrawn, damaging their international prestige
and destroying their credibility as superpowers.
France continued to fight its bloody Algerian war until 1962,
when even the conservative de Gaulle, by then president of
France, saw no alternative to Algerian independence. However,
rogue elements still championed “Algerie Francaise” and, in
August 1962, an attempt was made on the president’s life. Dozens
of shots slammed into his car, but miraculously de
Gaulle survived. Even more miraculously,
instead of careering off the road,
the car accelerated away. The
presidential limousine was,
of course, a Citroën DS
and the famous pneumatic
suspension quite possibly
saved de Gaulle’s life.
The Citroën DS has long been hailed
as a canonical design, routinely featuring
at the top of lists of EPOCHAL objects
the last great independent British coachbuilders. The Bentley
was the sort of car that one might expect from a monarchy in
which tradition and class strictures preserved a ruling class in
many ways unchanged since the zenith of imperial power in the
late 19th century. It was unattainably, unashamedly elitist: barely
200 were made before it was replaced by the S-Type Continental,
rarity adding to its Barthesian mythology.
By contrast, the DS was the product of a country that prided
itself on being a forward-looking technocratic republic. This
was democratic luxury: 12,000 DS19s were ordered on the
day of launch and almost 1.5 million would be sold during the
model’s 20-year lifespan. A beacon of progressive good taste, it
announced its drivers as 20th-century citizens who appreciated
the latest in design and technical innovation.
The influence of both cars was to be immense. Ever since,
whenever Bentley has a two-door car of which it is particularly
proud, it invokes the R-Type Continental: the Bentley Continental
R of the early 1990s that revived the marque’s reputation as
a maker of high price, high performance grand tourers; the
Continental GT produced under the ownership of
V W in the current century; or the EXP 100 GT
concept car created to honour the marque in this
its centenary year.
The Citroën DS, meanwhile, has long
been hailed as a canonical design, routinely
featuring at the top of lists of epochal
objects, and inspiring Stephen Bayley
et al to Barthesian panegyrics on its
every aspect, including its foam seats.
The letters DS have acquired a magical
power and have been spun off into a
standalone brand: a sort of Gallic Lexus
CROSSBACK IN
THE DRIVING SEAT
Right: DS 3 Crossback.
Below: President Emmanuel
Macron with the DS 7 Crossback
SEPTEMBER 2019 VANITY FAIR EN ROUTE
09-19Citrone-Bentley.indd 47 17/07/2019 14:12
47
