Bridgerton vs Bridgeton

THERE was fleeting confusion when I mentioned my subject for this weekend’s column to my husband over dinner, my idea being to discuss the joys of hit Netflix show Bridgerton, soon to return to our screens for a second series.

However, he mistakenly thought my intention was to wax lyrical on the charms of Bridgeton, the historic Glasgow district in the east of the city. I am not sure if it was my hammy cry of “gird your loins!” that briefly threw him.

I jest, of course. I imagine that anyone who hails from Bridgeton might be slightly miffed by the trite comparisons. Type the area’s name into Google and you will be greeted with a message that reads: “Did you mean Bridgerton?”

It could work the other way too, I suppose. These days Glasgow has no shortage of “set-jetters”, the nickname given to TV and film fans who flock to visit the locations where their favourite shows and movies are made.

Those rocking up at Bridgeton Cross expecting to see horse-drawn carriages clattering over cobbles as beautiful people in bodices and breeches glide along grand, sweeping avenues on their way to posh soirees will be sorely disappointed

(not least because it is actually filmed in Bath).

That said, I do have a dim and distant memory of ambling along

London Road in a fancy frock, devouring a hangoveraverting fish supper, after attending a posh soiree held in the Winter Gardens at Glasgow Green some years ago.

Back to Bridgerton. The debut series of the romantic period drama, based on Julia Quinn’s bestselling novels, was one of 2020’s most talked about shows. Within a month of its launch, Bridgerton – which made the leap from books to small screen after being championed by TV powerhouse Shonda Rhimes, known for Grey’s Anatomy and How To Get Away With Murder – drew an impressive 82 million viewers. The opening run centred on Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor) and Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings (Rege-Jean Page) as they embarked upon a whirlwind Regency-era courtship. Watching from the shadows was Lady Whistledown, the anonymous-yetall-seeing “scandal sheet” columnist who, narrated by Julie Andrews, sent frissons of fear and schadenfreude-laced delight through the upper echelons of society with her wry, acidtongued commentary.

This time around, the focus will be on the blossoming will they/ won’t they relationship between Anthony Bridgerton and new arrival Kate Sharma, played by Jonathan Bailey and Simone Ashley, when the show returns on March 25.

I can picture some of you rolling your eyes. Why? The snobbish default of pigeonholing romance and period dramas as lesser than other genres is something I have never understood. Yes, there are heaving bosoms and steamy romps, but Bridgerton is whip smart, witty and told – largely – through a feminist lens. It is set in a bygone era yet feels fresh and modern (thanks to clever details like a classical string quartet playing hits by Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift and Billie Eilish).

The sets are sumptuous. The casting is sublime (while widely praised as “colour-blind”, Bridgerton’s creator/showrunner Chris Van Dusen has said that “colour-conscious” is a more apt description). The dialogue is sparkling. The costumes are stunning. Give it a whirl.