Ever since the Royal Horticultural Society unveiled a rose in Catherine’s honor on May 9th—a graceful, elegant bloom sold for charity—Meghan Markle has been caught in a storm of envy. And not the trendy kind that matches a matcha latte.
In the days following the announcement, she’s posted three separate Instagram stories prominently featuring roses. Coincidence? About as likely as her floral displays winning best in show at Chelsea. It’s clear she’s rattled. Catherine has a rose. Diana had a rose. Meghan? She's clinging to limp beige bouquets and wrinkled linen, all while trying to convince the world that she's the true Rose Queen. She even paired one of her recent posts with LL Cool J’s “Doin’ It.” Except... she’s not doing it well—she’s doing it beige.
The so-called floral arrangement she showcased barely qualifies as one. It looked more like a last-minute scramble: unbalanced, drooping, and shoved into a vase as if the flowers themselves were late to a meeting. The intention is obvious—she wants a rose named after her. But shoehorning roses into her brand won’t make it happen. Posing barefoot while sniffing them in yet another heavily curated photo won’t impress the Royal Horticultural Society either. And that leads to the question: why is she always barefoot? Is it a branding attempt to come off as earthy and relatable? A strange aesthetic choice? Or is she just allergic to footwear? Either way, no one arranges flowers barefoot in dragging trousers like she does. The overall look screams lost Garden Center employee who wandered into a linen clearance bin.
Her outfits continue the same pattern: endless neutral tones, oversized pieces that drown her figure, as if she’s hoping to vanish into a Restoration Hardware display. Maybe it’s symbolic of how out of touch her content feels. The entire floral episode seems like a poorly staged clapback—Catherine’s rose made headlines, and suddenly Meghan was scrambling to craft a counter-narrative via Instagram. The problem is, it backfired. The content doesn't align with any brand message. It’s not promotional, informative, or even aesthetically striking. It's just dull. It has all the excitement of lockdown-era sourdough content—except it's 2025, and the novelty has long worn off.
Watching Meghan half-heartedly push wilting stems into a vase to a ‘90s R&B track is less floral guru and more chaotic amateur hour. As one florist with decades of experience put it, she handles flowers like she’s trying to settle a score. It’s like someone slapping spaghetti on a plate and calling themselves a five-star Italian chef. There’s no technique, no structure—just beige chaos. Catherine’s rose announcement clearly hit a nerve. Meghan’s response reads less like an artistic expression and more like a desperate cry for relevance. And if this continues, we’re likely in for a string of foot pics, motivational quotes about "blooming where you’re planted," and more droopy bouquets that belong on Pinterest circa 2014.
Let’s be honest: there won’t be a “Meghan Rose” anytime soon. Until then, someone should send her a pair of gardening shoes and a basic floral design guide—or better yet, a dose of reality. Because at this point, her content is less inspirational and more like watching beige paint dry, petal by lifeless petal.
