MAKE it make sense, Meghan.
As a self-proclaimed privacy warrior, five years ago Ms Markle/Sussex quit the Royal Family in a blaze of self-righteous glory, slagging off the media – quickly followed by social media – to all and sundry.
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Today, she’s trolling the trolls: denying access to her precious £11m Montecito mansion whilst simultaneously flinging the doors wide open to her overpriced, beige closet.
For many her latest move, like a pre-ejaculating April Fools stunt-gone-wrong, is the final straw.
Her “ShopMy” link is as brazen as the time her eco-warrior husband flew private jet to a climate crisis conference in Sicily.
She’s gone from having the world at her feet to flogging £595 Saint Laurent sandals for other people’s feet – with 15% commission to boot.
And this is the rub of it.
Because, of course, Meghan Markle would have absolutely LOVED a £2million brand ambassador deal with Saint Laurent. (Alas that gig went to Bella Hadid, a supermodel who got her deal by proxy of her face. not her husband).
Brands consider the former Suits actress divisive and toxic. Hiring her would be risky business indeed.
Remember that poor trans influencer, Dylan Mulvaney? Thrown to the wolves after advertisers, in their embryonic wisdom, paid her to be a face of Nike: a flat-chested one modelling sports bras.
Sales tanked, and advertising execs woke up.
Women like Natalie Portman (Dior), Gwyneth Paltrow (Tod’s), Rihanna (Louis Vuitton) and Britain’s own Dua Lipa (Versace) nabbed the sort of collaborations our pseudo Royal export presumably craved. High end, classy.
By its very nature a “collaboration” implies two brands coming together of equal worth. Perhaps a Walmart deal awaits.
Quite simply, Meghan, with her hypocrisy and sprinkled flowers, is polarising.
Plus she’s not an independent firebrand who’s clawed her way to the top by virtue of hard work, determination and socio-economic diplomacy alone. She got here by marrying well – something straight from the Jane Austen playbook.
Once upon a time we’d have called Meghan a saleslady. In today’s world, she’s a more salubrious-sounding influencer.
Yet this latest stunt is one loafer step away from a photo of a pair of snazzy gym leggings next to the hashtag #Meghan10 (something the bottom-feeders of influencing are forced to do, offering their followers a 10% discount code, in the grabby world of rampant narcissism).
In Meg’s defence, she isn’t sitting idle – and the public would be equally quick to slam her for simply lapping-up the interest on her Netflix deal.
Arguably, then, the poor woman can’t win.
But, for me, this latest move is one as unpalatable as those packet peanut butter pretzels.
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