Meghan Markle has once again captured public attention with her latest endeavor, an unsurprising attempt to stay relevant—this time through the launch of a raspberry spread under her brand.
However, what has truly sparked conversation isn't the jam itself but the baffling concept of "keepsake packaging." Because, naturally, when purchasing jam, the main appeal is the cardboard sleeve it comes in, right? A behind-the-scenes video posted on the AE Instagram page offers a glimpse into the making of this supposedly prestigious spread. The footage features fresh raspberries being casually tossed around by anonymous hands, funneled through machines, and ultimately squeezed into jars.
Nothing quite says artisanal like the sight of industrial-grade equipment mass-producing jam. Meghan herself makes a fleeting, blurry appearance in the background of a promotional image, clutching a glass as though she’s about to deliver an earth-shattering TED Talk on the art of berry selection. The caption? A thrilling "Here we go"—a level of enthusiasm that perfectly matches the public’s collective indifference.
Now, onto the pièce de résistance: the so-called keepsake packaging. What could it be? A delicate glass jar meant to be passed down through generations? An intricately hand-painted box crafted by monks in the Swiss Alps? No, it’s a cardboard sleeve. For the discerning consumer who enjoys contributing to landfill waste, this extra piece of paperboard now allows you to own a slice of AE history—wrapped around your already overpriced jam. Because nothing says eco-conscious quite like unnecessary packaging.
The website has yet to disclose the price of this premium berry purée, but judging by Meghan’s past ventures into “elevated living,” it’s safe to assume the cost will be eye-watering. While a standard jar of jam from the grocery store might set you back around $4, speculation suggests that Meghan’s version could retail for upwards of $25. After all, exclusivity—also known as the illusion of superiority—always comes at a cost. Surely, the extra $15 is entirely justified by the inclusion of a 50-cent cardboard sleeve.
But there’s another important detail: this isn’t even jam—it’s a spread. And what’s the difference? While jam contains actual crushed fruit, a spread is often made from fruit purées and packed with more sugar than a toddler’s birthday cake. But don’t let that minor distinction stop you from feeling utterly sophisticated as you smear it onto your organic, gluten-free, sustainably harvested toast.
Perhaps the most amusing part of this entire endeavor is the effort to present it as an exclusive, handcrafted, boutique product, when in reality, it’s a mass-produced factory item. It’s highly unlikely that Meghan has ever set foot in the facility where it’s made. Meanwhile, small-batch jam makers who actually handcraft their products are left shaking their heads as yet another luxury label is slapped onto something nearly identical to what you can find at a local farmers' market—for a fraction of the cost.
At its core, this raspberry spread is just another example of Meghan’s signature approach: taking something ordinary, rebranding it with a touch of faux prestige, and slapping on an exorbitant price tag. Just like her many PR moves, the product is polished, aggressively marketed, and utterly lacking in authenticity.
