Victoria Jackson, a close friend of Meghan Markle and part of her inner circle, recently took to Instagram to rave about Meghan’s “American Riviera Orchard” brand, calling it “pure perfection.” But that praise feels more like satire than sincerity.
After all, what’s so admirable about sending overpriced boxes of farmers market goods to business acquaintances rather than actual fans? Anyone could throw together a box of fruit and jam you could pick up on a Saturday morning for under $40. Bragging about it seems a bit much. Creating a collection of nice products is one thing, but slapping a famous name on the packaging, dressing it up in fancy boxes, and tripling the price just because of who you are is another matter entirely.
Victoria Jackson isn’t just an innocent bystander cheering from the sidelines. She’s not some wide-eyed supporter caught up in the moment. She’s deep in this game. One look at her website reveals glowing endorsements from celebrities like Ellen DeGeneres, Gloria Steinem, and Maria Shriver.
Her connections run deep—she’s married to Bill Guthy, co-founder of Guthy-Renker, the company behind Proactiv, Meaningful Beauty, and a long list of other high-profile products. Victoria has her own cosmetics line and has been a longtime fixture on QVC, where she and her husband have made a fortune selling high-end skincare to the masses. It’s no coincidence that Meghan, through her friendship with Jackson, found herself stepping into that same sales-driven, image-focused world.
Meghan, of course, is no stranger to luxury. Private jets, penthouses, beach houses—she’s enjoyed it all while maintaining the image of a grounded, relatable woman. Now she’s mingling with billionaires who built empires on wrinkle creams and TV promotions. But let’s be honest—this isn’t some charming, homegrown passion project. Meghan’s brand feels more like a late-night infomercial: overly polished, over-promised, and lacking substance.
“American Riviera Orchard” isn’t a symbol of royal elegance or a savvy entrepreneur’s dream. It’s a desperate play dressed in designer jackets and glossy marketing. These products are the kind a perky saleswoman might breathlessly push as “limited edition” must-haves, all while hoping you don’t look too closely at what you’re really buying.
So here’s to Victoria Jackson, applauding this so-called masterpiece, “Pure Perfection.” If by perfection you mean an elaborate façade designed to distract from failed ventures and the fading glow of royal fame, then yes—it’s perfect.
