Meghan Markle’s latest venture played out like a masterclass in misdirection. Her much-hyped Wildflower Honey with Honeycomb, priced at $28, launched with the kind of fanfare reserved for Hollywood premieres.
But for all the noise, anyone who placed an order was met with… well, nothing.F
The product, supposedly from Meghan’s lifestyle brand, vanished from stock almost immediately—or so the story goes. The website reportedly crashed, orders went missing, and soon customers were receiving emails explaining that the honey was no longer available.
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Yet, oddly enough, even the influencers and celebrities who posted about their “limited edition” honey gift baskets revealed they didn’t contain any honey either. It seems the only thing those baskets were full of was air—and maybe a bit of wishful thinking.
Meghan wasn’t finished. She followed up with a personal message to the disappointed buyers. No honey, no refunds, but at least there was a sincere apology. In that message, she expressed her gratitude and promised that customers would automatically receive a future product from her brand as a gift.
It was positioned as a generous thank-you for all the support. But the entire situation feels like smoke and mirrors, a classic move designed to keep public attention and media speculation alive.
There’s something strangely effective about launching a “limited edition” product so exclusive that no one ever gets it.
It’s like selling the idea of a dream, but never actually delivering. The honey, which was described as having earthy, floral notes and a glistening golden color, turned out to be nothing more than an attention-grabbing tactic.
And if it had actually existed, the FDA would likely have had something to say about it—especially with all the publicity. But since not a single jar made it into the hands of real customers, there was no need for any regulatory oversight.
This whole debacle looks like a calculated stunt to generate buzz and maybe keep Netflix interested in Meghan’s brand appeal.
It’s hard not to see it as a test run, a fishing expedition to gauge how many people were still buying into her carefully curated image. Unfortunately for her, there wasn’t much actual interest—at least not in the non-existent honey.
The promise of “more goodness coming soon” should probably be taken with a heavy dose of skepticism. Or maybe a spoonful of imaginary honey.
Because if anything, this whole episode feels like Scam Jam 2.0. Meghan may have pulled another publicity stunt, but this time, the magic trick came with an empty hat. No honey. No tea. No rabbit. Just another headline-grabbing distraction with nothing real behind it.
