written by Kayla Martinez
It’s about 1900, in the quaint French village of Taon-les-Vosges. Patrons mill about a small cafe, ever charmed by the gregarious, heavyset baker’s wife who serves them. One customer happens to boast about his long winter beard. Laughing, the baker’s wife bets that she can grow a better beard herself. To the customers’ shock, her husband backs her with 500 francs. Of course, everyone laughs along. But, lo and behold, a few weeks later she’s sporting a big, black, bushy beard. The fame that follows is almost immediate. Within a few months, photographers from all over France are clamoring to get a shot of her. And from this moment on, she decides never to shave her beard again.
France’s favorite bearded lady had humble beginnings. She was born to farmers on March 5th, 1865 in Eastern France . In her memoirs, she recounts first noticing her beard as a teenager.
“How did my beard grow? I don’t quite know. But I can assure you that at 18 years of age my upper lip was already decorated with a promising down, which agreeably enhanced my brunette skin tone.”
In 1885, she fell in love with a local baker named Paul Delait and married him. They opened their cafe together soon after. As her fame grew, she began selling autographed postcards and other stationery with her likeness. This extra income afforded a more leisurely lifestyle for Paul, who was prone to bouts of sickness. They even changed the name of their cafe to “The Cafe of the Bearded Woman”. Needless to say, business was booming.
Though, the time in which Clemintine lived wasn’t exactly kind to those who broke the mold. Doubtless, she encountered many who would shame her for her choice not to shave. But her memoirs never mention this. Instead, it’s filled cover to cover with pride.
“I had a magnificent beard, curly and abundant which spread out in a double plume.”
Although she was loath to take part in the popular “freak shows” of her time, Clementine would make a couple appearances at fairs in the next few years. The most famous of which involved lions. Described as quite fearless by her husband, she even took part in a stunt in which she played cards and sipped champagne with the lion tamer… inside the cage. The best part? It’s said she only did it because her sister forbade it. Clementine also recounts having visited a handful of other bearded ladies, like a rather disappointing one in Nancy:
“A badly groomed phenomenon, who does not even have the excuse of being from the Auvergne … The poor creature only had a few straggly hairs on either side of her face.”
Despite this scathing review, she did arrive home from the fair with a new favorite beard pomade. Clementine took the utmost care when it came to her beard. Her barber, Charles Grossier, claimed she would “watch him like a hawk” whenever he trimmed it.
At this time, it was illegal for women to wear men’s clothing. But Clementine was exceptional in all things. In 1904, she got special permission from the government of France to wear pants. Although she frequently stressed her identity as a woman, it appears she would often dress up in men’s clothing solely for the fun of messing with people.
Clementine also volunteered frequently with the Red Cross during WW1, putting her strength and stature to good use. In 1919, she and Paul adopted a young girl, Fernande, whose parents had perished in the Spanish Flu epidemic. Now, between running her cafe and doting on her family, she had little time for anything else. Least of all the invitations from circuses and socialites still pouring in. But this all changed after Paul’s death in 1926. Needing a change of scenery, Clementine finally began accepting offers to travel, taking her daughter all over Europe. The two even met royalty several times. In her later years, she opened a bar where she starred in cabaret shows. She published her memoirs in 1934, and passed from a stroke that same year.
Today, her hometown remembers her extraordinary life in a small museum close to the site of her and Paul’s cafe, her legacy enshrined in precious copies of her autographed postcards. More than just photographs, though, Clementine’s legacy represents a rare and beautiful example of what can happen when you choose to love yourself. Contrary to most other bearded ladies of her time, Clementine chose to embrace her beard out of pride not necessity.
“It never entered my head that I could be nothing more than a female curiosity exhibited. I was much more and much better than that.”
Even if we aren’t all “la femme a barbe”, all of us encounter a point in our lives where we don’t quite fit the mold. Those moments present us with a choice: shame or self-love. In a time and place where women were still violently constrained by societal ideals, Clementine Delait loved herself defiantly, radically, prodigiously. What many called vanity ended up earning her fame, fortune, and (most significantly to Clementine) a certain amount of comfort for her ailing husband and beloved daughter. She was a champion of confidence. And if she can do it, so can you.
The Glorious Beard Podcast 
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