Cool Britainnia, or nostalgia as a form of delusion

Apparently, Britain is cool again.

Don’t take our word for it. Tatler put Britpop nepo babies Molly Moorish-Gallagher and Sonny Ashcroft on the cover of their latest issue. Lena Dunham set her new sitcom in the country. Ellen DeGeneres has moved to the Cotswolds (and offended everyone by building a concrete and glass box). And the bits of Glasto they actually managed to broadcast were decent.

There’s undoubtedly a nostalgic sheen to this. Britpop’s comeback, led by the Oasis reunion, has put the era front and centre in the global zeitgeist. Charli xcx’s Brat did the same for the grimy rave culture that ran alongside it.

Much of the current TV and film content harks back to British classics, and a 21% increase in Google searches for “British men” is surely influenced by the stereotypes brought to life decades ago by Hugh Grant. 

This is despite the fact he essentially leaves someone at the altar (Four Weddings), runs a bookshop into the ground (Notting Hill), and blows up the UK’s most important international alliance (Love Actually).

As we’ve pointed out before, there’s nothing wrong with a little nostalgia. But it’s a risk when it fundamentally misunderstands or misrepresents the reality of the present.

Back in the late 90s, there was a “renewed national pride” and a cultural explosion “because of the desperation and repression creative people felt”, according to Daniel Rachel, the author of Don’t Look Back in Anger: The Rise & Fall of Cool Britannia.

This isn’t the case now. The New Statesman opines about “a sense of terminal rot” in the country. The economy keeps shrinking. There are riots over asylum seekers in quaint villages. JD Vance is holidaying there. 

Culture is supposed to reflect and represent society, whether a tiny niche or an entire nation. When it runs counter to reality, it’s no longer culture, it’s wilful delusion. And that really isn’t cool.