Meghan Markle, often seen as the queen of calculated spectacle, is once again at the center of controversy.
A recent blind item from CDAN suggests that she is orchestrating a clever marketing ploy—hiring people to flood two pop-up stores and purchase her yet-to-be-released products, creating the illusion of overwhelming demand. This tactic is nothing new in the world of celebrity vanity projects. It’s reminiscent of the mysterious success of The Bench, her sentimental and supposedly poetic children’s book, which somehow became a bestseller despite gathering dust in discount bins. Back then, rumors swirled that bulk purchases, disguised as charitable donations, had been used to artificially inflate its sales figures. Now, it appears the same strategy is being repurposed for retail.
Once upon a time, the so-called "Meghan Effect" allegedly led to handbags and dresses selling out instantly whenever she wore them. Those days, however, seem to be long gone. If she still had the power to drive consumer demand, designers would be lining up to collaborate with her. Instead, brands associated with her often find themselves scrambling to control the PR damage. But if genuine interest isn’t forthcoming, why not fabricate it? If the public won’t buy in organically, she’ll create the illusion of a shopping frenzy instead.
The question remains—who exactly are these devoted shoppers eagerly grabbing her products? Perhaps the same enthusiastic individuals who mysteriously appeared outside an Elle event, beaming at Meghan as though she were a divine apparition. She even greeted them with a cheerful, “Good to see you again,” despite supposedly never having met them before. Imagine the scenario: carefully placed buyers making staggered purchases with different payment methods, darting in and out of pop-up stores to make it seem as though sales are booming. A logistical nightmare, but no price is too high for the sake of appearances.
And what happens after the miraculous sellout? Cue the headlines proclaiming that Meghan’s pop-up stores were cleared out within hours. Of course, the real story would be that the goods are now sitting in storage, waiting to be offloaded to hotels, airlines, and charities as generous “gifts.” Some of those leftover books from The Bench still haven’t found a final resting place, so why not add unsold retail stock to the mix?
Netflix, always eager to play along, might even take the bait. "Wow, Meghan! Your products flew off the shelves in a single day! Despite our internal data suggesting otherwise, your influence must be truly extraordinary. We’re doubling our investment!" Meanwhile, Meghan, calculator in hand, would be frantically calculating how much more she needs to spend to sustain the illusion of success.
The flaw in this plan is that real businesses track sales data. Unlike the publishing world, where bulk buys can sometimes mask actual demand, retail stores can easily detect patterns—like the same credit cards being used repeatedly or familiar faces making multiple purchases. There’s no fooling seasoned retailers, especially in places like Texas, where she has virtually no fan base. Even without a leaked blind item, the outcome is predictable: the stunts, the smoke and mirrors, the desperate grasp at relevance.
So, when’s the big launch day? Maybe we should all rush to buy out Highgrove and Longle while we're at it.
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