Bridgerton, Boris, and the Grandest of Unsocial Seasons

Updated: Apr 2

By Rosie Mace

Dearest Reader,


There could not be a more marvellous way to promenade into the most promising of unsocial seasons than with the festive release of a series so extravagant that it is set to join the likes of the queen’s ever–so–cherished crown jewels themselves. I am, of course, considering the recently released Netflix period drama: Bridgerton.


The biggest scandal of the year made haste, commencing on the fourth of January in a much anticipated news announcement: a third lockdown, where one’s only options were to squark and settle and to not leave one’s nest for the beginning of this highly anticipated, scandalous yearly turnover. May God have mercy on our souls.


This curious author has certainly filled her time with Bridgerton’s beautiful scenery, wonderful characters, and accompanying nightly soirées, as every episode has proven to be a most handsome suitor to her most remarkable tastes. (My dear reader, I have even found myself becoming an expert in the art of the swoon; one’s chosen lockdown passion is proving immeasurably useful in one’s pursuit of another glass of wine. There is nothing like an excursion into a bottle of red to lift the spirits, if you would politely excuse the pun).


The dismal opening of the 2021 season was uplifted considerably with the grand arrival of the new Duke of Hastings. Rejoice! As he was the most eligible and uncatchable rake of 1813, so Regé-Jean Page has graced our screens and found himself the diamond of this lockdown season.


It appears that the Duke had no plans of ever marrying, however this author feels compelled to share the news of a certain silver spoon privileged with the Duke’s rare affection, (@thedukesspoon); how wonderful it was to see this affection emerge, transition, and blossom, phoenix-like, from the ashes into a most wonderful union between our two exquisite protagonists.


(Dear reader, the heart is the most curious of instruments; I do often find myself comparing the chemistry between Miss Bridgerton and Duke Bassett with that of my own. Regé-Jean Page and Phoebe Dynevor’s performance may beconsidered breath-takingly flawless, my dear, but I assure you that the love between oneself and a cool glass of white will forever run pure and true).


As such diversity in a cast is overdue by a fair few hundred years, it is with great pleasure that this author can finally congratulate a period drama for its budding approach to ethnicity in society, the position of women in the patriarchy, sexuality, and an appreciation of the arts; our hearts have certainly been opened to the possibility of hope, dear reader. Let us bask in it, and water this inclusivity and hope until it flourishes into the forest it deserves to be. My gentle reader: one needs equality to live like one needs trees to breathe.


Costing the bank a scandalous £5 million per episode, this unique series has undoubtably taken the season by a storm. Seamless acting, exquisite gowns, and beautiful pastel colour palettes have brought to one’s lockdown life a flurry of spirit, heart, and vitality. Instead of simply loading one’s dishwasher, we have found ourselves caught in the flurry of the times: your kitchen staff may attend to the household duties whilst you find yourself retiring to the parlour to await your long list of audience Zoom requests.


Bridgerton may not be historically accurate, but who can tarnish the joy it brings! I for one have never been a regular acquaintance of the word ‘promenade’, but here I find myself ‘promenading’ to the fridge alarmingly frequently.


Well, as the modern young lady must find a miscellany of activities in her quest for engagement in this dull circumstance, this author must soon retire for her daily promenade; perhaps one will turn left at the end of the road rather than right, for being a witty explorer and accomplished adventurer is a most coveted talent indeed. One must certainly take advantage of the small freedoms this lockdown allows!


After indulging in such scandalous Netflix binges, may you find your language returning to normal and your longing for 1800’s fashion reverting back to your preferred, conventional loungewear, (I assure you that one does not tread alone down the path of never dressing oneself in proper outwear). Gentle reader, may you also hold on tightly, for this unsocial season is not without its scandals. But together we stand, and from it we have found something far greater than one ever fathomed: friendship and unity. The best possible foundation for any society to simply thrive.


And lastly, dear reader, please remember that although you do not yet know me, be forewarned that I certainly know you. Rest assured that if there is a story, I shall write it.


One is most thrilled to welcome you to this author’s work.


Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

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