Why Should We Bother With Who Meghan Markle Gives Her Jam To?
Prince Harry's wife makes preserves and gives a jar each to 50 of her close compatriots. And the American media is now publishing the list of recipients. Who cares? The strawberry jam of the month. Photo: tracyrobbins/Instagram By Mao Shan …
Prince Harry's wife makes preserves and gives a jar each to 50 of her close compatriots. And the American media is now publishing the list of recipients. Who cares?
The strawberry jam of the month. Photo: tracyrobbins/Instagram
By Mao Shan Wang
Meghan Markle takes up jam making and gives the fruits of her labour to her cronies. This is news. And the media in the US is publishing the list—still incomplete—of those lucky enough to receive a jar, such as Glamour's "Here's Every Recipient We Know About So Far". Are these individuals the same as Donald Trump's co-defendants in the Georgia conspiracy-to-overturn-Joe-Biden's-victory case? Or the witnesses in the ex-president's "hush money" trial? Is that why Tatler calls them "insiders", as if receiving preserves is like getting a campaign contribution? I don't know about you, but my life isn't enriched with the knowledge that Kris Jenner has been given a jar of the jam and it is the thirteenth of a batch of 50, as indicated on the label. Okay, I saw the photo, but it's all over the Internet, which is probably what the duchess, who clings to the British title like, well, a sticker-label on a jam jar, desperately desires.
And it is not jam of some exotic fruit. It's strawberry. As common as they come. They are so versatile as flavouring that they're added to anything, from milk to cough syrup. But Ms Markle, as far as I am aware, did not use exotic strawberries, such as albino strawberries or the world's most expensive, the Bijn-hime from Japan that sells for ¥50,000 (or S$430 presently)... a piece. Yet, these are not any ordinary strawberries, these are ordinary strawberries that are harvested in the Sussexes's very fertile Montecito garden, now known by the very pretentious and ungainly American Riviera Orchard, also her incipient "home and lifestyle brand" that, I presume, is supposed to evoke enviable domestic bliss and kitchen euphoria. A failed podcaster turning to making comestibles such as breakfast spreads is, as the magazine House Beautiful magazine shared on Instagram, "had us feeling... inspired"?
In an attempt to rehabilitate her reputation, Ms Markle decided to do something in the sweet stakes. The making of jam goes back to ancient times (to the Romans who used honey and then the Persians to who used sugar, the better sweetener, as most cooks will say). Jam production and sale enjoy low barriers to entry, so low that it easy to begin in any kitchen, such as the one in a particular sprawling Montecito estate. According to Statista, strawberry is the most popular flavour of jam consumed in the US from 2011 to 2020 (probably still is). It won't be a tough sell. Furthermore, the strawberry plant is considered relatively easy to grow, not requiring any specialised equipment. I have seen them thrive in pots along HDB corridors. So you can imagine what an American Riviera Orchard can produce. For Ms Markle, the idea to sell strawberry jams must have been a no-brainer.
But how do you launch a product that is commonly and easily available and does not require a genius to produce? You make it in limited amounts and give it to friends who will make a show on social media of your glorious domestic kitchen output. Let her famous gal-pals, such as Mindy Kaling, Tracee Ellis Ross, and Chrissy Teigen (strangely absent is Tyler Perry, who had the Sussexes stay in his house when they first moved to California and Oprah Winfrey, who allowed them to bash the British royal family on her TV special) do the promoting. Ms Teigen, married to the musician John Legend, was most enthusiastic about the free fruit spread; she shared a reel of her making breakfast, which featured an untoasted tartine slathered with the said jam that looked to me like gloopy glaze.
The entire parcel sent to the recipient, Suits actress Abigail Spencer. Photo: abigailspencer/Instagram
And then let the American media do the rest. The jam has been described as "exclusive" and "luxury", suggesting that celebrity-led brands easily fall into those categories, even if they are just cooked fruit with pectin and, often, too much sugar. And when Buckingham Palace's own brand of strawberry preserve was brought to attention through an Instagram post Four Ways with our Strawberry Jam, it was thought that they threw shade at—even troll—Ms Markle's jam-selling endeavour. Not likely an exceptional product other than because of the person it is associated with, Ms Markle's jam has to benefit from extra marketing effort from her. I still see her as a divisive figure, attracting more rancour than adoration. Her friends loving her jam is crucial. But despite their enthusiastic response, Ms Markle has not availed her sole products for sale. On the brand's pale-coloured website, nothing is available.
This is, of course, a fashion blog page. I should stay on track. Let's look at the way the bottle of jam is dressed. The dark-red preserve is filled into a hexagonal glass jar. On the front is a natural-hued label on which the brand logo (an unappealing scribble, presumably the cursive of the initials of the brand stacked and set in an octagonal frame) is stamped. Below that is the full name of the brand in fancy penmanship, thought to be handwritten by Meghan Markle herself, who is reportedly a calligrapher. And beneath that, the provenance of the jam, followed by the batch number. The cover of the jar is hooded with plain muslin and secured with fake raffia ribbon. To present it to her friends, the giver sent out a sort-of-hamper, with the jam placed in a stone planter curiously filled with lemons and their leaves—a bundle that could have been a prop from an old Dolce & Gabbana store window. And then I remind myself: American Riviera Orchard.
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