Where Can I Buy Britpop Wine?
Britpop. Bottled.
Yes, Britpop wine is a thing.
Honestly, are you surprised? Everything we loved eventually gets bottled, boxed, or slapped on merch these days. It’s what happens when nostalgia bumps up against capitalism. The same songs that made you feel untouchable at 17 are now soundtracking supermarket ads, and it stings if you let it. (But you don’t, do you? Not anymore.)
So here we are: wine. Britpop wine. It exists, and I found myself looking it up not because I wanted it (I’m not allowed to drink anymore) but because I couldn’t help wondering. Who thought this was a good idea? Where did it come from? And more importantly, who’s this actually for?
This isn’t a recommendation. It’s not a sponsored post. I’m not flogging anything. I’m just letting you know where it is, in case you're the sort who still wants Britpop in the fridge as well as the headphones.
It’s not like Britpop needs a drink attached to it. It already had the lager-soaked anthems, the smoky pubs, the sticky floors of Camden venues. I can still see the bottom of my battered trainers from those nights. (God knows what was on those floors. Don’t want to think about it.) Britpop didn’t do wine. It did pints. Shots. Snakebite if you were skint or showing off. Wine didn’t fit then, and it doesn’t fit now.
But here we are, and someone’s gone and corked the era. I can’t lie, part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of it. But there’s something else, too. A kind of weary affection for how Britpop can still find a way to crawl into the present, even if it’s via a bottle label.
You remember, don’t you? Those nights that felt like they could go on forever (even though we knew they wouldn’t). The gigs, the pubs, the cigs in the beer garden when it was pissing it down. And now they’re bottling it up and selling it as bloody wine. Who saw that coming?
Who’s Responsible?
You might think Britpop wine is some naff gimmick cooked up by a soulless marketing team. It’s not. The bloke behind it is Alex James. Yeah, him. Blur’s bass player, cheese enthusiast, and now, apparently, wine bloke. Turns out, after the amps stopped buzzing, he didn’t fancy trotting out Parklife on endless nostalgia tours. Instead, he went full countryside artisan. Cheese first, then English sparkling wine. Fair play.
He’s teamed up with Furleigh Estate (proper English winemakers, not some backyard hobbyists) and knocked out Britpop Brut and Britpop Rosé. And before you roll your eyes, it’s not a novelty bottle pitched at dads who still think they’re 25. These are serious wines. They’re going through proper channels, not lurking on the bargain rack at Tesco.
It’s not cheap fizz either. It’s the kind of bottle you might crack open when you’re feeling a bit flush or just fancy proving to yourself that English wine can hold its own. Does it live up to the Britpop name? It’s loud, a bit flash, and not trying to please anyone. Ring any bells?
What’s in the Bottle?
Two main acts under the Britpop label.
Britpop Brut
Proper English sparkling wine. Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Pinot Meunier. Peach, sure. Biscuits, maybe. Cream? That’s pushing it. Basically, it’s trying to be Champagne (but let’s not get into the whole “protected origin” snobbery here). Tastes good, though.
Britpop Rosé
The Brut’s pinker, fruitier sibling. Same setup, same ambition, just with a bit more swagger.
But here’s the twist. James didn’t stop at wine. He’s got cider, elderflower spritz, and cider brandy in the lineup too. (Yeah, cider brandy. Let that sink in.) Prices? The sparklers are £23 to £26, depending on where you’re shopping. That cider brandy? £52. It’s not pocket change, but hey, neither were Oasis tickets back in the day.
Where Can You Buy It?
If you fancy adding Britpop to your home bar, here’s where you can start your search:
The most straightforward route is through one of the wine’s official distributors:
Availability can vary depending on stock levels, but these are your go-to options for a fresh bottle.
Who’s Buying It?
This isn’t your bargain bin supermarket plonk. And it’s not for the TikTok crowd buying bottles for a laugh either. Britpop wine is for us. The ones who were there. The ones who queued outside Woolies for the new Oasis single, clutching a crumpled fiver and praying it wasn’t sold out. The ones who taped the Top 40 off the radio every Sunday, trying not to let the DJ’s voice ruin the last few seconds. You remember, don’t you?
It’s for those who still have their vinyl (proper gatefold sleeves, not the flimsy reissues). Who can hum the B-sides better than the A-sides. Who can still smell the stale lager on sticky pub carpets from ’95. Sure, we’re not those moody kids in Fred Perrys anymore. We’ve got mortgages, kids, office jobs (and knees that creak if we dance for too long). But the music never left. It’s still there, just slipping into the quieter corners of our lives.
This wine isn’t for wine snobs. It’s not about tannins and vintage chat. It’s about cracking it open and remembering how it felt. The gigs, the crap band T-shirts, the arguments over who nicked what riff from who. It’s not perfect. Britpop never was. It’s about passion and all the messy, beautiful, loud moments that came with it. That’s what you’re drinking here. Memory.
Should You Buy It?
Depends what you’re after, mate.
If you love your wine: Honestly, probably not worth it. For £23 to £26, you could get a sharper English fizz with a proper clean finish. This one’s not exactly going to blow the cork off your wine rack. Just saying it straight.
If you’re after nostalgia in a bottle: Then yeah, why not. Stick it in the middle of the table and watch what happens. Britpop Brut isn’t really about the drink. One sip and you’re back in 1995. Dodgy haircuts. Lager-soaked gigs. No smartphones. Just music and mates and the sense that nothing else mattered.
Some will taste it and remember everything. Others will just taste wine. You’ll know which one you are.
