Aromatic Antics: Scent Matching Rivals Characters

From 80s excess to what they’d wear now...

I must admit when I first heard a TV adaptation was being made of Rivals for Disney+, my stomach twisted a little. However, when watching, I knew immediately that I needed to match the cast to corresponding scents; so, what follows are the fragrant musings that have taken over my thoughts as a perfumed panacea to recent turbulent times. You’d better grab a cuppa and settle yourself, because this has been brewing in my subconscious for a while, and it’s a WHOPPER.

Firstly, I should explain that I loved Jilly Cooper’s books – to friends my age, they were the next step in salacious reading matter from having devoured Judy Blume’s eye-opening depictions of divorce, puberty, and sexuality; or contemplated the compellingly unsettling world of Virginia Andrews Flowers in the Attic. These were the kinds of books swapped by clammy hands at sleepovers, feverishly read by torchlight beneath the blanket, and hesitantly discussed in hushed corners of common rooms.

Unlike these authors, Cooper has frequently been written off as being a ‘Chick Lit’ author (LOATHE the condescending tone of that phrase) or as a writer of ‘bonkbusters’ (the most 80s phrase ever), but in some ways can be likened to Jane Austen and (later) Georgette Heyer as being a wittily sharp-eyed observer of class, romantic entanglements and society. So: would the series get the vibe or ruin it? It was a worry shared by many of my contemporaries, and (thankfully) unfounded.

This adaptation was carefully overseen by Cooper herself in the role of Executive Producer, and she often joined the cast while filming to offer advice, appears in a cameo role, and threw the entire crew a wrap party at her own house. So, she was clearly happy with it. The entire cast seem to be having enormous fun, and this confidence settles one’s nerves from the get-go. Indeed, viewers have been swooning over the heady mix of 80s nostalgia set in the fictional region of Rutshire against the gorgeously golden-hued Cotswolds backdrop.

The brilliant costumes and retro soundtrack [see above] meanwhile, have had us all digging out our leg warmers and attempting to moonwalk across the living room in stilettos.

Okay, not quite. But it has made me backcomb my hair and yearn for the much-maligned 1980s fragrances that dominated the era.

The ’shoulder pads in a bottle’ scent styles really defined my taste, I think. My mother wore them, I was desperate to be old enough to wear them (and liberally ‘borrowed’ them from her dressing table anyway). When they are referenced nowadays, it’s often in relation to the supposed banning of some – Giorgio Beverley Hills, Dior Poison, and YSL Opium are usually cited – from restaurants, because they were so powerful and room-filling they were, apparently, putting diners off their nouvelle cuisine meals. I’ve never found any completely reliable source for such claims [DO let me know if you have, dear reader!], amusing though they are. But for decades since it’s tainted the scent memories associated with 1980s fragrances, as being too strong, too vulgar, too showy for their own good.

[Sidebar musing]: I find it fascinating that such criticisms are almost always applied to female-marketed fragrances of that era. Gosh, it’s almost as though the exaggerated cut of the clothes, bright makeup that made no effort to conceal itself as natural, statement jewellery and similarly ‘brash’ scents made women take up too much space in the world for people to feel comfortable, isn’t it?

But instead of standing fully atop my soapbox on that score (that’s a book, babe, not a SubStack of musings, even at this length), let me at least note with interest that the scent Trend-o-meter needle has recently swung back towards this appreciation of olfactory largesse, with fragrantly opulent offerings abounding in the form of ‘intense’, ‘extrait’, and ‘elixirs’ promising extra hours of perfumed-billowing. This is in marked contrast to the beach-y, paired-back, barely-there, ethereal muse vibe that wispily wafted through much of the 90s scent scene; and I must say, it makes my ‘more is more’ heart glad.

The current re-appreciation of olfactory overtness also got me thinking about the fragrances the characters would have worn back in the day, and, crucially, what they would be wearing now. It’s a track my mind often takes, being (of course) fragrantly obsessed, but also because I really enjoy pairing perfumes to literature, art, and music. I hope it brings a fuller understanding of what each scent smells like, because it’s tricky trying to convey the emotional resonance of an invisible smell you’ve perhaps not yet experienced for yourself. When paired with a thing (or person) you can see, hear, may already have opinions on, it becomes a scented shorthand of understanding. Conversely, if you know the perfume but not (in this case) the character, you can nonetheless get a true sense of their personality. That’s certainly my intention, anyway.

But why scent-match Rivals? Well, at the heart of this soapy saga is a cast of characters so delightfully over-the-top that they practically beg for their own signature scents. The show is a glorious cocktail of whimsy and often vulgar 80s excess, with a healthy dose of nostalgia as a garish garnish. It's as if someone took a snow globe filled with glitter, hairspray, and just a dash of scandal and gave it a good shake. Or perhaps a vintage bottle of Champagne, with cork veritably popping and the contents exuberantly frothing forth. The result? A dizzying whirl that leaves you gasping for more – much like a spritz of defiantly bombastic eau de parfum.

I hope you find several to reminisce about, or to newly savour, here...