As wildfires rage across Los Angeles, Meghan Markle has postponed the release of her Netflix lifestyle programme, With Love, Meghan, which was set to premiere this week. The show, a curated blend of aspirational living and self-discovery, seems now to stand in stark contrast to the dire realities of a burning California. This pause in her brand expansion may signal a moment of reckoning for the super-rich, whose carefully crafted façades often seem detached from the world they inhabit—or impact.
The lives of the ultra-wealthy are steeped in denial, wrapped in a cocoon of opulence that often blinds them to their complicity in the world’s inequalities and crises. This bubble is an archetype of its own, where wealth becomes both the symbol of virtue and the source of disconnection. Meghan Markle, with her penchant for curated aesthetics and cottage-core imagery, has become emblematic of this phenomenon. Her trailer for With Love, Meghan is a montage of whimsical gardens, delicate blooms, and her carrying a basket through a borrowed garden—a literal and figurative nod to the fleeting, borrowed authenticity of her narrative.
In one moment, Meghan appears as a beekeeper, surrounded by hives, offering viewers a romanticised version of sustainability. “I’ve always loved taking something pretty ordinary and elevating it,” she says. Yet, in a world where gardens have become symbols of exclusivity rather than commonality, the message feels hollow. What should be ordinary—access to nature, a garden, or fresh produce—has been transformed by the elite into a luxury, mirroring Marie Antoinette’s pastoral pretensions at Versailles.
This aesthetic, coined as cottage-core, idealises a simpler, bucolic life that is entirely divorced from the realities faced by most people. It’s a form of escapism for the privileged—a reinvention of the past that provides comfort amidst chaos. But as the fires in Los Angeles rage on, the imagery of Meghan’s borrowed garden feels tone-deaf. The symbolism of the show’s postponement, whether intentional or not, serves as a reminder of the growing disparity between the fantasy world of the super-rich and the harsh realities of a climate-stricken planet.
The denial extends beyond aesthetics. The ultra-wealthy often justify their position through philanthropy, casting themselves as benevolent stewards of societal improvement. This is the emotional crutch of prosperity theology—the belief that wealth signifies virtue and moral superiority. But as critics have long pointed out, true societal impact lies in systemic change: paying fair taxes, supporting public infrastructure, and reducing personal excess. Wealth inequality, as starkly highlighted in cities like Los Angeles, breeds instability and undermines democratic ideals.
Meghan Markle is not uniquely culpable in this dynamic; she is, after all, a product of the Hollywood ecosystem—a place where the lines between activism and self-promotion often blur. But her move to Los Angeles, framed by some as “disaster tourism,” mirrors the broader critique of celebrity culture’s role in social discourse. It’s reminiscent of moments like Angelina Jolie’s high-profile campaign to end wartime sexual violence, an effort that raised awareness but failed to tackle the systemic roots of the problem.
The super-rich cling to their narratives of moral righteousness, often blind to the contradictions of their lifestyles. Their curated personas—whether through Netflix documentaries or high-profile charity events—often serve more as a balm for their own consciences than as meaningful contributions to society. Meanwhile, the gap between their lives and the lives of ordinary people continues to widen, creating a world that is increasingly unstable and fragile.
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The symbolism of Meghan Markle’s postponed show should not be overlooked. It’s a small but telling indication that the gilded narratives of the ultra-wealthy may be losing their resonance. As fires blaze and inequalities deepen, the disconnect between the fantastical worlds they project and the realities most people face becomes harder to ignore. Ultimately, if the very rich truly wish to make a difference, they must first acknowledge their own roles in perpetuating the inequalities they seek to address. The world doesn’t need more borrowed gardens or curated bee hives—it needs accountability, humility, and a commitment to creating a fairer, more sustainable future. Whether Meghan Markle and her cohort will heed this call remains to be seen
