Look who just happened to showcase a gift box from Meghan Markle’s new brand, “American Riviera Orchard”—none other than Mindy Kaling. Whether she realized it or not, Mindy essentially became a walking advertisement.

Yes, the same Mindy who once got a subtle dig on Meghan’s Netflix series now finds herself casually promoting Meghan’s latest venture, as if it’s some exclusive invite to a celebrity bake sale. The whole thing feels less like a luxurious lifestyle launch and more like an overhyped corporate holiday basket.

Inside the box? A lackluster assortment of cookie mix, crepe mix, jam, and flower-shaped sprinkles—all packed neatly into a beige box accompanied by a personalized note that likely came from an intern with a calligraphy pen. The grand total of this carefully curated mediocrity? Ninety-three dollars. And not a dime of it from a paying customer. You can’t purchase it—you can only receive it if you’re famous enough to qualify for the gift list. This is what now qualifies as a product launch: so soft and unceremonious, it may as well be pudding.

Meghan isn’t marketing a product so much as tossing out overpriced pantry fillers to celebrities and crossing her fingers for a social media shoutout. Mindy got the message—sort of. She gave the gift a quick nod on her Instagram Story with a tiny heart emoji and then went about her day. No caption, no excitement, not even a thank-you. Just a brief, borderline contractual post, like she was checking a box on a to-do list.

It’s hard to forget that awkward moment during Meghan’s Netflix series when she corrected Mindy for calling her “Meghan Markle”—as though using the name the public actually knows her by was some grievous offense. She’s “the Duchess of Sussex” now, remember? Though ironically, her connection to Sussex itself is nearly non-existent, beyond the title she tightly clings to for its brand value. It’s giving major “Please remember I’m still relevant” energy.

What Meghan hasn’t quite grasped is that you don’t become the next Martha Stewart by handing out jam jars to celebrities and hoping for viral traction. While Mindy might be playing along, it’s hard not to wonder whether she’s doing it out of genuine friendship or some unspoken obligation. Was there a silent Venmo payment involved? The whole rollout reeks of desperation. If you can’t create real demand, you might as well simulate the illusion of it.

So, the boxes are mailed out—one by one—to the same rotating group of second-tier celebrities and influencer types, most of whom have seen more than a few PR stunts come and go. They smile, post a story, and move on, while the public collectively shrugs. Meanwhile, actual fans—those loyal supporters refreshing nonexistent product pages like it’s a surprise Beyoncé drop—get nothing. No cookies, no crepe mix. Just a front-row seat to watch the rich trade jam like it’s a party favor.

At this point, “American Riviera Orchard” doesn’t feel like a brand. It feels like a beige inside joke in an expensive ribbon. It’s not luxury. It’s not cutting-edge. It’s not even particularly appealing. It’s Meghan’s carefully curated attempt to appear down-to-earth, draped in a fog of clout chasing. And for all the close friendships she claims to nurture, they seem to vanish the moment the Instagram engagement dies down.