With Love, Meghan Season 2 Review: Harry’s Absence

When Meghan Markle launched With Love, Meghan in early 2025, critics dismissed it as a tone-deaf venture into lifestyle content by a former royal struggling to find her post-palace footing. Yet, against all odds, the show’s second season—released on August 26, 2025—has become a cultural Rorschach test. It’s a series so meticulously staged, so effortfully whimsical, that it transcends mere entertainment to become a fascinating study of modern celebrity, authenticity, and the ghost of Harry’s presence in Meghan’s carefully curated world.

Why are we still watching? Is it the lavender-grey lattes, the flower-sprinkled everything, or the nano-celebrities who seem to realize they’re “not being paid enough” for this surreal escapade? Or is it the eerie absence of Prince Harry, whose 17-word cameo in Season 1 became a metaphor for the couple’s relationship with the public: visible yet vaporous, intimate yet intensely controlled?

This review delves into the layers of Season 2, exploring how Meghan’s attempt to craft a narrative of effortless hostessing reveals more about the contradictions of her life than she might intend. From the rented Montecito kitchen to the awkward celebrity encounters, we unpack why this series is both a critical failure and a cultural curiosity.

1. The Setup: Whimsy, Wealth, and a Rented Reality

Curated Authenticity in a Hired Home

Season 2 follows the same formula as its predecessor: Meghan, swaddled in neutral tones, hosts guests in a stunning $8 million rental property down the street from her actual Montecito home. This choice immediately undermines the show’s premise of “heartfelt hostessing.” As critics note, the setting feels as “impersonal as a supermarket ad,” a stagecraft that clashes with Meghan’s claims of returning to her “authentic self”.

The production’s artifice is glaring. An 80-strong crew works tirelessly to maintain the illusion of effortlessness, ensuring the kitchen never truly messies up despite marinades and mahjong games. Edible flowers are sprinkled with abandon; ribbons are tied in perfect bows around color-matched gifts. It’s a Nancy Meyers film filtered through AI—aestheticized to the point of absurdity.

Table: Season 1 vs. Season 2 at a Glance

2. The Ghost of Harry: Absence as a Narrative Device

“H” as a Peripheral Character

Harry—referred to fondly as “H”—looms large in Season 2’s anecdotes but is physically absent. Meghan shares loving stories: he said “I love you” first; she ruined a roast chicken for him by failing to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius; their children say “zebra” not “zee-bra”. Yet, the man himself is nowhere to be seen. Critics wryly ask: “Has she got Harry locked in the pantry?”.

This absence is telling. For a show premised on “Californian home life,” Harry’s omission feels strategic—a way to leverage his fame while shielding him from further scrutiny. But it also reinforces the couple’s uneven public dynamic: Meghan as the face of their brand, Harry as the shadow partner. When he finally appears in the finale’s brunch scene (a holdover from Season 1’s format), his contribution is limited to murmuring, “Well done, you did a really great job,” and “I love it”. It’s a moment that feels both intimate and deeply staged.

The Sussex Brand: Escapism or Ego Trip?

Netflix’s decision to renew the series—albeit under a less lucrative “first-look” deal—suggests confidence in the Sussexes’ appeal. But Season 2’s low-stakes drama (e.g., weighing 113g of water for sourdough) feels disconnected from the realities of most viewers. As one critic notes, watching Meghan lecture on “easy” ways to make floral necklaces or hot breakfasts daily is “like being gaslit by a multimillionaire”.

Harry’s ghostly presence underscores this disconnect. His reported unease with reality TV—and the couple’s rumored tensions over creative direction—adds a layer of unspoken pathos to the show’s frivolity.

3. The Celebrity Guests: From Chrissy Teigen to Nano-Influencers

Highlights and Low Points

The guests range from A-listers like Chrissy Teigen and John Legend to “nano-celebrities” (a term coined by critics) like Queer Eye’s Tan France. Teigen emerges as a standout—her raw honesty about blurry tattoos and creaky knees feels genuinely relatable. But Legend’s awkward cameo (he drops off Teigen and flees) hints at the show’s forced dynamics.

Other guests, like chef David Chang, seem contractually obliged to participate. Meghan’s interactions with them often veer into cringe, as when she tells France, “Grapes create that bounty I was talking about,” or serves a “lavender-grey latte” with the query, “Doesn’t that just sound chic?”. France’s reply: “Wow. That’s the gayest s*** I’ve seen in a long time”—a moment of unintended comedy that briefly punctures the show’s veneer.

Table Guest Appearances & Their Roles

4. The Critique: Self-Indulgence or Subversive Escapism?

Critical Mauling vs. American Praise

UK critics were merciless. The Guardian called the show “so boring, so contrived, so effortfully whimsical” that it becomes fascinating. The Times deemed it “a series in search of a meaning, fronted by a woman in need of some cash”. The Telegraph labeled Meghan a “Montecito Marie Antoinette”.

Yet American reviewers were softer, praising the show’s “escapist” value. This divide reflects broader cultural tensions: the British press’s lingering resentment over the Sussexes’ exit versus America’s embrace of their reinvention.

The Flower-Sprinkled Elephant in the Room

Meghan’s relentless whimsy—flower sprinkles on French toast, pressed forget-me-not necklaces for her deceased dog—walks a fine line between charming and cloying. Her dedication of a Malibu cocktail-making episode to California wildfire victims feels tone-deaf, highlighting the show’s struggle to balance gravitas with glamour.

But beneath the surface, there’s a poignant vulnerability. Meghan’s confession that she “doesn’t like baking because it’s so measured” clashes with her As Ever brand’s pre-measured baking mixes—a contradiction that humanizes her. Similarly, her stories about motherhood (“I always wanted to be a mom”) feel earnest, even if they’re delivered in a microwave-perfect setting.

5. The Verdict: Why We Can’t Look Away

The Fascination of Contrivance

With Love, Meghan succeeds precisely because it fails. Its painful contrivance becomes a meta-commentary on celebrity culture: the desperation to be relatable, the curation of “authenticity,” and the ghost of Harry’s royal past haunting every frame. We watch, not for the recipes or crafts, but for the unintended glimpses of truth—the moments when Meghan’s carefully constructed persona cracks enough to reveal the woman beneath.

Netflix’s decision to continue investing in the Sussexes (albeit cautiously) suggests they understand this. The show isn’t meant to be instructional; it’s a hug in a mug from a parallel universe where problems are solved with flower sprinkles and sourdough starters.

Conclusion: The Unanswered Questions

Season 2 of With Love, Meghan is a paradox: a show that insists on its own simplicity while being relentlessly complex in its execution. It’s a testament to Meghan’s resilience—and a reflection of her isolation. As the credits roll, we’re left wondering:

• Is Harry’s absence a strategic choice or a symptom of deeper tensions?
• Can Meghan bridge the gap between her curated world and her audience’s realities?
• Will the Sussexes’ next Netflix venture (a Diana documentary?) learn from this show’s missteps?

One thing is clear: Meghan Markle remains a master of self-reinvention. Whether that’s enough to sustain public interest remains to be seen.

What’s your take on With Love, Meghan? Do you find it painfully contrived or genuinely fascinating? Share your thoughts in the comments below, and don’t forget to subscribe for more deep dives into pop culture’s most talked-about moments!