My long buttoned coat is trailing through the puddles, my ringlets are unfurling in the drizzle, my corsets are killing me and I see no sign of Regé-Jean Page, who they promised would be part of the deal if I spent a day dressed up as a Regency lady to celebrate the return of Bridgerton.
Without Regé-Jean – or any other dashing Regency cove – on my arm, I am left to promenade alone along the beautiful Royal Crescent in Bath, idly wondering why hand mufflers ever went out of fashion.
It’s chilly and so I am also grateful the bloomers I am wearing are not the crotchless variety Bridgerton actresses must wear to stay authentic to the era.
