CHICHESTER, ENGLAND — One good reason to hope there will always be an England: the Goodwood Revival.

Imagine a country setting where the smell of burned motor oil mixes with the fragrance of a Guerlain eau de toilette, where mechanics in greasy overalls and neckties tinker with the carburetors of old Jaguars and MGs.

Where Veuve Cliquot is sipped from the bottle. Where ladies parade in faux minks and polka-dot dresses and bright rouge, whilst gentlemen strut about in plucky caps and tweed waistcoats.

Enclosing this retro extravaganza about 60 miles south of London is a 2.4-mile racetrack, where the dominant sounds are the growls and burps of decades-old automobile motors. (There are also the occasional roars of propeller airplane engines, because Goodwood, which was an airfield of the Royal Air Force during the Battle of Britain, is about old Lancasters and Spitfires as well.)