England triumphs as the Women’s Rugby World Cup delivers a giddy joy

I’ve been privileged to attend multiple sporting championships, and the atmosphere at each has been electric. But I’ve never experienced anything quite like the joyous, almost giddy, celebration that was this year’s Women’s Rugby World Cup.

It may have been the thrill of hosting a tournament at home;  but we had that in the 2012 Olympics. Perhaps it was the camaraderie among rugby fans at a World Cup; yet we experienced that for the men’s game in Japan in 2019. There was certainly the ecstasy of seeing my team win the top prize; I’ve been lucky enough taste that joy with the Cardinals in the World Series. But this experience was better than all of those, and I can only put that down to the fact that it was the women’s game, at a very specific point in its evolution.

Rugby has always drawn a decent balance between male and female fans, but as you’d expect, the women’s game puts even more women in the stands. The lower ticket prices meant more families and far more children, dramatically shifting the feel of the crowd. Fans seemed even chattier than the rugby norm; there are few places in England where it’s easier to strike up a conversation with strangers than in a rugby fan zone. But with the women’s game, fans were routinely exchanging gifts, complementing each others fan-wear and buying each other drinks.

Mostly, though, it was the shared sense that we were all participating in a breakthrough moment. Before this World Cup, women’s rugby felt niche — small audiences in second-tier stadiums, where many spectators had some sort of personal connection to the players. By the end, the women were playing in front of record-breaking crowds of strangers at a sold-out Twickenham Stadium.

England’s Red Roses: Unstoppable Favourites
We had the luxury of our home team, England’s Red Roses, entering the tournament as overwhelming favourites. One of the most successful teams world rugby has ever seen, they arrived with a 27-game winning streak behind them. Their last loss? The final of the previous World Cup. The goal was clear.

If England won every match — which we expected — there would be six games in total. We booked tickets for three: the opener, the quarter-finals, and the final. We were tempted by more, but neither the diary nor the bank account could manage a match every weekend. Our sampling, however, proved well judged.

The Opener: Sunderland – England 69, USA 7

The opening match was in Sunderland on the Friday of the August Bank Holiday weekend, giving us the chance to combine rugby with a short break somewhere new. We stayed in a cottage on Riding Farm — an ideal location, just 15 minutes off the motorway and half an hour from Sunderland city centre, yet deep in the countryside. The lights of the city glimmered on the horizon, but our immediate views were rolling hills, fields, and forests.

The closest tourist attraction is the living history museum at Beamish, but we passed on that to do a circular drive through the North Pennines National Landscape and along part of Hadrian’s wall. Our hosts recommended the Ravensworth Arms as the best option for dining; pleasant though not exceptional.

The hearty dinner was a relief, however, after catering failures the day before at the rugby. The people of Sunderland were kind and enthusiastic hosts; the fan zone and the area around the stadium looked great, and the pre-game parade from fan zone to the Stadium of Light was lively fun. But the planners seemed oblivious to how much rugby fans eat and drink. The stadium ran out of both beer and food by half time, and the fan zone had only three food trucks for a crowd of more than 40,000.

The quality of the game and the crowd more than made up for the shortcomings in hospitality. This was England vs. the USA, and though an American loss was inevitable, the fans were in high spirits simply to be there on such an exciting global stage. I broke out my American colours for this one and, just as in Japan, found that anyone identifying as that oddest of things — an American rugby fan — bonded instantly.

We also got to see Ilona Maher play, confirming she’s much more than a social-media star: she’s a dazzling rugby player. The Americans have potential. But once the opening match was over, my allegiance returned to England.

The Quarter Final: Bristol – England 40, Scotland 8
We decided to drive to and from Bristol on the same day rather than staying overnight. I know people who went to university there love the city, but from our limited exposure we didn’t see anything that encouraged us back for further exploration. Our ambivalence was compounded by logistics: we didn’t move fast enough to get parking near Ashton Gate Stadium, which is on the outskirts, so we left the car in the city centre and relied on public transport. It was slow going out, and even slower returning.

Transport issues aside, Ashton Gate is probably the nicest rugby stadium I’ve ever visited — cheerfully decorated corridors, abundant toilets, good food and drink facilities, a variety of food trucks outside, and even a proper pub built into the venue. It was here I first noticed the multicoloured, flashing goalposts and assumed they were unique to Bristol. Only later at Twickenham did I realise they were special for the tournament. (A shame, I’d love to see them as a permanent addition to rugby.)

With two home nations facing each other in the quarter-final, the crowd was evenly split, Scots shouting just as loudly as the English. They gave us a run for our money in the first half, but the Roses pulled ahead to their usual dominance in the second.

The Final: Twickenham – England 34, Canada 13
Travelling had been fun, but it was wonderful to be back at our home ground — especially for this particular event. At almost 82,000, this was the largest crowd ever to watch a women’s rugby match, and they were in gleeful spirits.

It was a full day of rugby, starting with the bronze-medal final between New Zealand and France. It’s always a pleasure to see the haka, and an added bonus to cheer against the “old enemy” as France were trounced. Between matches, we caught the Red Roses walking into the stadium in a longer, more adoring ceremony than the men usually get.

The Canadians fought hard, and there were moments in the first half when they had us worried. Their achievement is extraordinary, considering they have a tenth of England’s funding and most of their players are amateurs. They were also playing in a stadium where perhaps 85% of the crowd was cheering for their opponents — though, being rugby, there was still polite applause from opposing fans for moments of Canadian brilliance.

England, of course, romped to their expected victory. Almost no one left the stadium. Instead, it became a vast gathering of communal joy as everyone cheered, sang along, and celebrated the remarkable women on the field.

A National Treasure in Full Bloom

I doubt I’ll ever experience anything quite like that again. First, because I’m unlikely to see another World Cup on home turf in my lifetime. Second, because this was a rare and wonderful tipping point — a moment when a minority sport tasted its first flush of mass popularity.

I fully expect, and wholeheartedly support, the women’s game coming on par with the men’s. That will mean much of this becomes the new normal, and some of that giddy excitement will fade. Hopefully not too much. England’s Red Roses are a national treasure, shining some much-needed light in difficult times.

Royal splendour, maximalist style links Edwardian and Marie Antoinette shows in London

On the surface, Edwardian England and the French court of Marie Antoinette might seem worlds apart.

One is the gilded peak of Britain’s industrial boom, the other the glittering excess of pre-revolutionary France. Yet both are united by a devotion to beauty, luxury, and the arts — royal courts that embraced a maximalist ethos, showering wealth on jewels, fine books, decorative objects, and the latest fashions. The key difference? The Edwardians were atop a society whose middle and upper-middle classes were thriving and keen to emulate them, while the French monarchs remained utterly distant from its people, blind to the brewing social unrest that would ultimately topple them. 

There is, perhaps, a cautionary tale in Marie Antoinette’s story about the perils of extreme inequality.I recently had the chance to explore exhibitions celebrating these two very different worlds on the same day — The Edwardians at the King’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace and Marie Antoinette Style at the V&A — and I was struck by how the two courts’ obsessions with style, comfort, and spectacle shaped not just their own lives, but entire eras of taste.

Edwardian Elegance: When royals set British style
If you love the Gilded Age, The Edwardians exhibition is a feast. Housed in the King’s Gallery, it charts the era from Edward VII’s marriage to Alexandra of Denmark in 1863 through World War I, focusing on the artistic lives of two glamorous royal couples: Bertie and Alexandra, and their son George and his wife Mary.

Alexandra’s early influence is evident in the Danish touches that adorned England’s royal homes — stunning Copenhagen scenes, Royal Copenhagen porcelain, and exquisite silver. These were collectors who delighted in decorative gewgaws and books alike: from Meissen monkeys in an orchestra of whimsy to a beautiful example from the William Morris Press, the craftsmanship and artistry on display is extraordinary.

For me, the exhibition had a deeply personal resonance. One of my husband’s ancestors was a member of the Danish court who came to England with Alexandra and became governess to the princesses. Among the treasures on display are watercolours by Queens Alexandra and Mary. Hanging on our bedroom wall are watercolours by the three princesses, gifts to their governess. It was exciting to see the similarity in style and imagine the women sharing a teacher and painting excursions.

Maximalism was the rule of the day. Alexandra’s coronation robes were adorned with metallic threads and the flowers of the nations, a motif she introduced, while Mary’s jewellery continues to dazzle in the Royal collection. Travel also played a role in shaping taste: from New York to India, South Seas, and Australia, souvenirs and artistic encounters enriched the royal aesthetic. And yet, as visually sumptuous as it was, the Edwardian world was fated to collapse with the advent of World War I.

Marie Antoinette Style: Rise, fall and reinvention
Hopping over to the V&A, I travelled 20 minutes west and 150 years backwards to the world of France's most famous queen. I was prepared for a show heavy on modern fashion, light on history — perhaps because of the Manolo Blahnik sponsorship and promotional photos that were almost entirely of modern fashion. Instead, I found a deeply immersive historical experience. I’d guess that more than 65% of the exhibition focuses on the queen herself, charting her life through clothing, accessories, and the material culture of the French court.

The exhibition opens with a dazzling array of 18th-century costumes — most not belonging to the queen but conveying the extraordinary opulence of the age. There are outrageous diamonds, jewelry cases brimming with bling, towering hairstyles, and even the queen’s piano. One striking section lets visitors explore scent in the palace, a sensory detail often overlooked in historical exhibitions.

The story moves beyond objects to Marie Antoinette’s legacy: her vilification in pamphlets and caricatures, her imprisonment, and eventual death, followed by her posthumous rehabilitation. The English and Empress Eugenie played key roles in restoring the queen’s image, linking her name to luxury, culture, and fashion. Finally, the exhibition pivots to contemporary couture inspired by Marie Antoinette — costumes from film, installation art, and high fashion — a reminder that her style remains iconic centuries later. Unlike the Edwardians, however, she didn’t live to see her world change. It came crashing down with revolution, a violent punctuation to opulence untempered by social awareness.

Two Courts, Two Fates
Comparing and contrasting the two exhibitions is compelling. Both courts relished beauty, both spent lavishly on art, fashion, and decoration, and both eventually faced their reckoning. The opulence of Edwardian England died— metaphorically and literally with the slaughter of WWI — but many of its key players lived on to reinvent themselves in a more sober age. Meanwhile, Marie Antoinette’s court ended abruptly and brutally, and was vilified for years before it was resuscitated to for other purposes. Fortunately we don’t have to pay any price for indulgence other than admission fees. Both exhibitions reward that investment with sensory delight.

In terms of presentation, the V&A takes the crown: soundscapes, scent, and immersive displays transform the Marie Antoinette show from mere exhibition into a multi-sensory experience. The Edwardians, by contrast, offers a quieter, reflective feast of objects, drawings, and family histories — equally rich but more contemplative. You feel much more of a sense of getting to know Bertie, Alexandra and their families, while Marie Antoinette remains more “celebrity” than authentic human throughout.

For those who want to explore both worlds, hurry up: the Edwardians closes on 23 November. You have much more time for Marie Antoinette Style, which runs until 22 March 2026. A side-by-side journey offers a rare opportunity to compare courtly maximalism across centuries, in Britain and France, and to reflect on the social forces that shape — and may eventually topple — even the most glittering of worlds.

You can find short films by me on both of these exhibitions on my Facebook, Instagram or TikTok accounts. Follow the last for the most extensive, up-to-date content.