A trending, hot show on Netflix, I love me a period piece and thought, Oh Yeah, I’m saving this one for Christmas eve for my daughter, husband, and I to watch. After the prerequisite viewing of Die Hard, my son’s go-to Xmas movie, my son turned his nose up at Bridgerton and the rest of us gathered round the tv in front of the fire and jumped into viewing.

Hmm. What is this?

The first episode gave off an Ella Enchanted or Cinderella vibe. Not at all what I was expecting. It was rather slow too. But it was visually gorgeous, the production value was first rate, and the casting wonderful. I would have just watched it for the costuming and set design alone. How much freaking money did it take to shoot this thing? It’s all about the wealthy Bridgerton family and their wealthy English community and a titillating anonymous gossip sheet wreaking havoc written by a mysterious Lady Whistledown.

Full disclosure, after episode two, my daughter and husband lost interest and I could feel them squirming as I had control of the remote. We moved on and watched something else.

I did a bit of research before I went back and finished watching the series by myself. I had no idea, but it turns out the show was based off an eight-book series by Julia Quinn. It’s set in 1813-1827, during the Regency period in Britain around the time King George III went mad. (OMG, adored Queen Charlotte, played by Golda Rosheuval). Back then, women’s rights were non-existent, and the series works hard on their behalf to show the injustice.

Overall, I thought the show very enjoyable and give it a 3 ½ star review. A younger audience might have found it a kind of modern Jane Austen too, but beware. I’d strongly caution parents to keep their young ones away. There is a ton of sex. And this really surprised me. I almost didn’t see it coming. (um, no pun intended). I’m no prude, but for a while I thought I was watching one thing, and then it went. . . somewhere else. I seriously wonder what the books are like and how many young women (and men) have swooned their way through and learned a thing or two about the happenings in the boudoir. Or about things to do on the office desk. Or on the stairs. Or on ladders. Or the lawn. Take your pick.

It reminded me too of Coming to America – but entirely set in the wealthy world of Zamunda. The words lavish and opulent spring to mind. Everyone was incredibly, beautifully bejeweled, cleveaged up, and on parade in ballrooms and drawing rooms. It was no upstairs/downstairs thing though. I can hardly remember any real poverty or servants. Sure, there were folks trying to get to the next tier, but still, it was all about the gentry. And marriage. And courting. And reputation. And sex.

So, really, what am complaining about? Nothing, I guess. Judge for yourself, dear reader.