In the first episode of the long-awaited (by the Daily Mail) Netflix show, With Love, Meghan, Daniel is visiting. Daniel is an old friend. He and Meghan met on the set of Suits, when he did her make-up, and she wants to spoil him by prepping the guest room. Hmm. What might this involve exactly? If I have someone to stay – ideally, never – I check for dust with a finger, and then I chuck a clean towel on the bed. Ta-dah! Job done. For a few moments, I may then relax on said bed myself, the better to admire the stain on the ceiling.
But Meghan has bigger ideas. “What’s by the bed for them?” she asks – and no, she doesn’t mean a bucket into which a guest may vomit quietly after a full day of flower-strewn doughnuts (the foodstuff does not exist that she won’t prettify with a few nasturtiums) and syrupy platitudes about connectedness (“thank you for loving me so much,” she announces in episode eight, to a group that has been invited over for yet another of her crudités platters). Far better to make a big jar of bath salts or, if this seems laborious (yes, it does), a few no faff “late-night snacks”. Simply open a packet of peanut butter pretzels, tip a few of them into another, smaller, non-branded bag, and then customise it with a hand-written label and a bow. Honestly, I’m not joking. Later, she’ll also tell us how to blow up balloons.
I think she does know Daniel – together they make a culinary abomination she calls “single skillet spaghetti” – but about the other “friends” who drop by, I’m less certain. “You’re so tall!” she says to her pal, Delfina, a landscape architect, which I’m afraid did suggest to me a certain lack of familiarity. Alice Waters, the celebrated Californian cook, appears looking startled – as well she might in this land of let’s pretend.
How on earth had they got Waters on to this stage set? (The house where the series is filmed is not Meghan’s.) Was it a kidnap situation, or did they bribe her with the promise of carrot top pesto and heirloom chard? When Roy Choi, another chef, is about to rock up, Meghan whispers coyly: “We’re not friends yet, but we’re going to be!” Actually, I’d love to know how this worked out, because even she looked a bit alarmed when he revealed his deep spiritual bond with daikon (give him a giant radish, and it sends electricity all the way up his arms).
My favourite friend, however, is Mindy Kaling, best known as one of the stars of The Office. According to Meghan, Kaling is a “mom friend”, and with this in mind, she’s coming over to learn how to stage a children’s garden party. In Britain and perhaps in most of America, children’s parties involve an excess of fat and sugar and maybe a trip to a soft play area. But again, Meghan has different ideas. Forget sausages on sticks! What about “art scene crostini” or a rainbow made from fresh fruit? (Use sliced bananas for the clouds.) Does Mindy know how to throw such a party? Meghan inquires, as they begin. “No, but the woman I hire does,” Mindy replies, a comment that put me on high alert. Was Kaling going to be lightly satirical throughout? OMG, she was.
First things first, though. Early on, Kaling makes the mistake of referring to a personage known as Meghan Markle. “No, I’m Sussex now!” instructs Meghan, struggling perhaps not to add that she’s also a Duchess. “Well, now I know,” says Kaling, her smile vaguely reminiscent of the glaze on one of Meghan’s cakes. Meghan pours them both some bubbles, and then they set about making crostini that look like ladybirds. Does Kaling know that in Britain, the home of Meghan’s husband, “ladybugs are called ladybirds”? Kaling sips her drink. “Yes, I’ve always found that confusing,” she says, dryly.
At this point, Meghan produces her fruit rainbow. “You’re kidding me!” shouts Kaling, her hand tight around the neck of the bottle of fizz. “It’s just fruit,” says Meghan, reassuringly. The episode ends – showtime! – with the pair of them sitting in some kind of greenhouse, eating the art house crostini. All Meghan needs to complete the full Marie Antoinette effect is a cow and a milking stool.
You may be wondering what Meghan Sussex (or whatever she’s called) is like. Does this show reveal her essence to a populace, whether British or American, that wonders vaguely what her cunning plan might be? When her “lovely” husband Prince Harry appears in the last scene of the last episode, his scalp shining brightly in the Montecito sunshine, he looks so proud of her, it seems to verge on a kind of fear – and yes, I detected at moments a certain bossiness. Overall, though, the fakery is so enveloping – it falls on everything, like one of the tablecloths she’ll soon be selling under her brand As Ever – it’s impossible to tell.
Can she really cook, or garden, or do any of the other things she coos about? I wonder. It does seem odd to spend so much screen time making various kinds of tea – ginger, hibiscus, poison ivy – if you can do other, more complicated things. To my eyes, With Love, Meghan is just a brazen, turmeric-inflected, lavender-infused punt. One sniff, and you know you’re not buying.
[See also: Netflix’s Apple Cider Vinegar is a queasy look at the wellness industry]
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