#115 Easy Lies the Head
05/03/25 20:41
OK, I know a lot of people don’t like Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, or as I call her, Rachel from Suits. She really seems to get people’s backs up, and there have been many, many reviews of her new Netflix show saying how shitting awful it is. But I was disposed to like it, partly to be contrary, but also because I really do like her and I like that sort of shitting awful telly. Moreover, it challenges me as a critic to find the good in this, and persuasively argue that you should too. I’m giving it a go *with love* and hopefully by the end of this, all of us will be signed-up members of the Meghan fan club and there will be peace on earth.
The reason I like Meghan is mostly because of Suits, a rollicking and hugely enjoyable drama, which she was pretty decent in. In fact, at first, she was only OK, but she got better with each series, like she was properly working at it, and when she and Patrick J Adams left the show, I lost interest and stopped watching. Also, there’s a *really* steamy sex scene in Season 2 where his character Michael shags her up against some filing cabinets or something like that – I can’t quite remember even though my eyes were on stalks – and I’ve never understood why the Daily Mail hasn’t displayed and analysed every screen shot in forensic detail before using the footage to explain why Harry should divorce her for scandalous infidelity.
The point is, years ago Meghan had a fine career as a lead actress in a respected show, but she also had a lifestyle blog – now defunct – called The Tig, which demonstrates that she’s always been interested in that plating tablescaping prettifying stuff. She’s LEGIT, guys. I can’t help feeling Meghan’s earnestness is part of the problem for her detractors. She’s so obviously a school swot, trying to be the best, making everything perfect. I find that rather endearing, but I can see how it could wind people up. That calligraphy she does, all those elegant twirls and flourishes – WHAT a cunt.
Anyway, her credentials are sound, and Netflix have given her a socking great budget to make a glossy lifestyle series, which means everything looks lovely - and that’s another part of the problem. Everything looks TOO lovely – she’s too rich and too glowing and too LA and the grass is too green and her shirt is too white and it’s all ragingly inappropriate in the current climate of climate and fires and war and poverty and everything going to hell in a handcart. How dare she look nice and make a pretty cake? What a fucking bitch.
I don’t know, it’s probably too much money - though other people, a lot more horrible people, also have too much money. At least she’s spending hers on candles and bees instead of invasions and injecting serum into her penis to make it look young. I would argue, before we inevitably burn the earth to a crisp or throw bombs at each other until we’re all dead, or just get mercifully obliterated by an asteroid, that I’m OK with watching a glamorous woman make honey tea for her gay best friend and sit looking at the gorgeous mountainous backdrop. It seems *relatively* inoffensive.
To deal with another heinous controversy: It’s not her house. WE DON’T GET TO SEE HER HOUSE. I WANT TO SEE HER AND HARRY’S UNMADE POST-COITAL BED, AND THEIR TOILET, AND THEIR COMPOST BIN - IT’S A TRAVESTY. Well, it’s not Nigella’s house. It’s not Nigel’s house either (though it IS his garden – I checked on Google Maps). It’s quite common for these presenter-types to present from somewhere that’s not their own personal space. Something-something privacy, something-something security. She’s quite open about the fact that it’s not her house – it’s not like she’s pretending otherwise. Yes, I agree, I would like to see her house and it would be a more interesting show if we got to see her house. But tbh all those posh LA places look the same – I guarantee you she and Hazza live in an identical light-filled vanilla villa kept pristine by a fleet of scurrying staff. A more interesting point to note is: kettles. Everyone says that they don’t exist in America and yet I saw two in the first episode. It felt significant, even if they didn’t actually belong to Meghan but to some nameless rich neighbour. Or maybe… they were actually MEGHAN’S KETTLES? A memento, brought over from Blighty? Maybe they were given to her by the Queen. The real Queen, not Camilla.
My friend – who, I should add, is also inclined to like Meghan – texted me saying ‘I think it’s… boring?’ And to that I would say: yes. Yes, it is. But I found it quite comfortingly, soothingly boring. In these hectic, hellish times, I don’t want to be stimulated or engaged too much – I want to roll my eyes at something idly, while scrolling Instagram and rubbing my dog’s belly and telling my sons that no, dinner isn’t ready yet because mummy is getting culinary inspiration from royalty. Gentle, easy-on-the-eye tedium is not to be sniffed at. Netflix could be on to something here, like slow TV but the moneyed interiors version. Put Princess Kate in situ somewhere that’s not Anmer Hall, she can paint something in Farrow & Ball Clunch and we can all watch it dry.
Finally, something I appreciated as Megs and her makeup artist sat drenched in sunshine, sipping their nectar, surveying the glorious mountains, is: Harry’s landed on his feet, hasn’t he, if this is where he’s ended up. A beautiful wife making everything nice in sunny Montecito. No being upstaged by his more-important brother, no meet and greets with the paupers or the papers, no sodden Scottish pheasant shoots, no draughty castles, no princely duties… The thing the Daily Mail really can’t stomach is the idea that Meghan might have made Harry happy. Which, let me tell you, if you’ve seen *that* scene in Suits, is perfectly easy to imagine.
In conclusion, I DID like With Love, Meghan, so suck on that, haters. But just to maintain some critical perspective, let’s be clear it’s no Kirstie’s Homemade Home. That IS Kirstie’s real (second) home, and her hand-sewn bunting, and she does it all on a shoestring (comparatively) with a brisk, can-do attitude. Rest assured, Queen Allsopp retains her crown and shall never be usurped.
But if Meghan invited me for tea, I wouldn’t say no.
The reason I like Meghan is mostly because of Suits, a rollicking and hugely enjoyable drama, which she was pretty decent in. In fact, at first, she was only OK, but she got better with each series, like she was properly working at it, and when she and Patrick J Adams left the show, I lost interest and stopped watching. Also, there’s a *really* steamy sex scene in Season 2 where his character Michael shags her up against some filing cabinets or something like that – I can’t quite remember even though my eyes were on stalks – and I’ve never understood why the Daily Mail hasn’t displayed and analysed every screen shot in forensic detail before using the footage to explain why Harry should divorce her for scandalous infidelity.
The point is, years ago Meghan had a fine career as a lead actress in a respected show, but she also had a lifestyle blog – now defunct – called The Tig, which demonstrates that she’s always been interested in that plating tablescaping prettifying stuff. She’s LEGIT, guys. I can’t help feeling Meghan’s earnestness is part of the problem for her detractors. She’s so obviously a school swot, trying to be the best, making everything perfect. I find that rather endearing, but I can see how it could wind people up. That calligraphy she does, all those elegant twirls and flourishes – WHAT a cunt.
Anyway, her credentials are sound, and Netflix have given her a socking great budget to make a glossy lifestyle series, which means everything looks lovely - and that’s another part of the problem. Everything looks TOO lovely – she’s too rich and too glowing and too LA and the grass is too green and her shirt is too white and it’s all ragingly inappropriate in the current climate of climate and fires and war and poverty and everything going to hell in a handcart. How dare she look nice and make a pretty cake? What a fucking bitch.
I don’t know, it’s probably too much money - though other people, a lot more horrible people, also have too much money. At least she’s spending hers on candles and bees instead of invasions and injecting serum into her penis to make it look young. I would argue, before we inevitably burn the earth to a crisp or throw bombs at each other until we’re all dead, or just get mercifully obliterated by an asteroid, that I’m OK with watching a glamorous woman make honey tea for her gay best friend and sit looking at the gorgeous mountainous backdrop. It seems *relatively* inoffensive.
To deal with another heinous controversy: It’s not her house. WE DON’T GET TO SEE HER HOUSE. I WANT TO SEE HER AND HARRY’S UNMADE POST-COITAL BED, AND THEIR TOILET, AND THEIR COMPOST BIN - IT’S A TRAVESTY. Well, it’s not Nigella’s house. It’s not Nigel’s house either (though it IS his garden – I checked on Google Maps). It’s quite common for these presenter-types to present from somewhere that’s not their own personal space. Something-something privacy, something-something security. She’s quite open about the fact that it’s not her house – it’s not like she’s pretending otherwise. Yes, I agree, I would like to see her house and it would be a more interesting show if we got to see her house. But tbh all those posh LA places look the same – I guarantee you she and Hazza live in an identical light-filled vanilla villa kept pristine by a fleet of scurrying staff. A more interesting point to note is: kettles. Everyone says that they don’t exist in America and yet I saw two in the first episode. It felt significant, even if they didn’t actually belong to Meghan but to some nameless rich neighbour. Or maybe… they were actually MEGHAN’S KETTLES? A memento, brought over from Blighty? Maybe they were given to her by the Queen. The real Queen, not Camilla.
My friend – who, I should add, is also inclined to like Meghan – texted me saying ‘I think it’s… boring?’ And to that I would say: yes. Yes, it is. But I found it quite comfortingly, soothingly boring. In these hectic, hellish times, I don’t want to be stimulated or engaged too much – I want to roll my eyes at something idly, while scrolling Instagram and rubbing my dog’s belly and telling my sons that no, dinner isn’t ready yet because mummy is getting culinary inspiration from royalty. Gentle, easy-on-the-eye tedium is not to be sniffed at. Netflix could be on to something here, like slow TV but the moneyed interiors version. Put Princess Kate in situ somewhere that’s not Anmer Hall, she can paint something in Farrow & Ball Clunch and we can all watch it dry.
Finally, something I appreciated as Megs and her makeup artist sat drenched in sunshine, sipping their nectar, surveying the glorious mountains, is: Harry’s landed on his feet, hasn’t he, if this is where he’s ended up. A beautiful wife making everything nice in sunny Montecito. No being upstaged by his more-important brother, no meet and greets with the paupers or the papers, no sodden Scottish pheasant shoots, no draughty castles, no princely duties… The thing the Daily Mail really can’t stomach is the idea that Meghan might have made Harry happy. Which, let me tell you, if you’ve seen *that* scene in Suits, is perfectly easy to imagine.
In conclusion, I DID like With Love, Meghan, so suck on that, haters. But just to maintain some critical perspective, let’s be clear it’s no Kirstie’s Homemade Home. That IS Kirstie’s real (second) home, and her hand-sewn bunting, and she does it all on a shoestring (comparatively) with a brisk, can-do attitude. Rest assured, Queen Allsopp retains her crown and shall never be usurped.
But if Meghan invited me for tea, I wouldn’t say no.
- With Love, Meghan – 8 episodes, Netflix
