I must have good vibes because I seem to be among the handful who did not break out in hives at the latest Archewell Productions show on Netflix. As life hacks go, With Love, Meghan has very little to offer. The majority of us are unlikely to go harvesting honey or picking berries from our backyard (unless, of course, you’re a type-A overachiever with a hobby farm). I am definitely unlikely to ever make a balloon arch from scratch, but a one-pot pasta? I can get on board with that, even if it means throwing raw spaghetti into uncooked sauce in a desperate bid to save 20 minutes of my evening.
But that’s not really the point of the Merkle-who-must-now-be-acknowledged-by-her-husband’s-surname show, which, going by the genre, is meant to serve up a world of aspiration with a dash of practicality. The problem with With Love, Meghan is that it offers neither: The aspiration is so distant it becomes almost… banal, and the practicality so scant it feels like an inoffensive advertorial softly droning on in the background while you get on with the real work — like, say, doing the dishes, planning next day’s meals, sending off work emails and figuring out bills that need to be settled.
Even then, contrary to the pillorying it has received, the coasting-along-on-vibes show has some things going for it. As Meghan in her tradwife avatar keeps on reminding viewers, it is the small things that count. It is great to want to keep a beautiful house, it’s lovely to make your guests feel cared for, it adds to one’s sense of comfort to come back to a welcoming home, “there’s real delight in being able to be a present parent”, as the estranged royal says at one point. These are things that would, by and large, appeal to most people. But there are two problems. Meghan puts half a finger on the first, irony notwithstanding — “…it’s a luxury sometimes because we all have to work”.
This business of work takes those not in possession of even a fraction of the wealth of the Sussexes — Meghan and Prince Harry are reportedly worth a combined $60 million as of 2025, according to Parade — away from home for a greater part of the day. Many juggle long commutes, more than one job and managing home. It’s not that they don’t want to bring thoughtful organisation and a DIY aesthetic to their homes (a large majority actually has no option but to rely on the latter), it’s just that, forget the money, some don’t have the luxury of time to be able to put it all together. With Love, Meghan doesn’t acknowledge the cost of maintaining that idyllic home financially, physically, or emotionally. The pressure to be the domestic diva, even when they are not in the “pursuit of perfection”, only joy, is one that has pushed one too many women to the edge, trying to do it all without the support required for it.
And this is where Meghan loses us a second time. Because as much as she may want to present her lifestyle as “accessible”, everything the show sells — the rarefied Montecito setting, the perfectly colour-coordinated Le Creuset skillets, Meghan’s high-low fashion mix of Loro Piana and Zara (how does she keep all the pastel shades so pristine when she is cooking, cleaning and foraging? Perhaps season 2 that has been confirmed could have an episode on that) — is a fantasy built on the tacit assumption of wealth, time and support. Domesticity is the thing one cosplays at occasionally when guests are coming over or there is a family celebration. And so, instead of becoming a part of the conversation, it becomes the conversation – a tone-deaf if earnest attempt at “If I can do it, so can you”.
Unfortunately, not all of us can. We have to squeeze in the“present-parent” vibe in between work and getting the children to school, and maybe — just maybe — catching an episode of this, wondering whether we could have made that balloon arch… if only we’d had a few extra hours.
paromita.chakrabarti@expressindia.com
