Jilly Cooper's Rivals is doing more than entertaining viewers with drama and scandal—it's reshaping how we think about British fashion. As Jess Cartner-Morley notes, the show has "done for old-school British dressing what Emily in Paris did for the beret, only with better jokes and more adultery." The costume designer Ray Holman's meticulous work, drawing on original 1980s pieces from Dunhill and Mulberry, has managed to bring the Sloane ranger back into the fashion conversation for the first time in years. This is not coincidental styling; it's a cultural moment that deserves celebration.
What makes this moment particularly refreshing is how it celebrates imperfection. The British heritage look thrives on being slightly worn, slightly lived-in. A waxed jacket benefits from the creases it develops after a few adventures. Cashmere has more soul when the neckline is a little looser. Wellies are nothing without mud. This stands in sharp contrast to the high-maintenance perfection demanded by other fashion trends. Unlike Emily in Paris, British style is only improved by looking like you've actually worn it—whether you've found it in a charity shop or on a countryside walk.
The timing couldn't be better. Barbour, Mulberry, and Burberry have all stepped up to participate in London Fashion Week this season, signaling that this isn't a fleeting trend but a genuine shift in how British fashion houses view their heritage. Kate Moss is in her wellies for Hunter's latest campaign, while Sienna Miller and Idris Elba star in Barbour's. Even Barbour's inclusion of sheep in their advertising speaks to how thoroughly countryside-coded this aesthetic has become.
But here's what's truly clever about this moment: it's not about slavish adherence to one specific look. The key is balance—letting the fancy stuff rub up against the practical stuff. A waxed jacket over a party dress. A silk scarf that works equally well in a gale and a paparazzi shot. Tweed that looks great out of context with baggy jeans or over a band T-shirt. The twist, as Cartner-Morley points out, is one element of metropolitan polish—an urban girlie slicked-back bun and gold hoop, or trousers with a crease down the front.
Rivals has given us permission to stop chasing perfection and start embracing authenticity. The show's success suggests audiences are hungry for a style narrative that celebrates eccentricity and history over flawless execution. In a fashion landscape often obsessed with newness, British heritage style offers something radical: the idea that a garment becomes more valuable, more interesting, the more you live in it. That's a lesson worth taking seriously.