HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: 'I finally tried Meghan Markle's jam. I have a very important update.'

This story first appeared on Holly Wainwright's Substack, Holly Out Loud. Sign up here.

It happened. I got my sticky lil' hands on Meghan's sticky lil' jam, after at least a year of bleating about it.

I did nothing to deserve it. That was all thanks to an Outlouder from Maine, called Erica. The Duchess doesn't yet ship internationally (get on it, Megs), so wonderful Erica packaged up an order, sent it to us herself and it arrived last week.

Now that's the kind of thoughtful gift that would put us off quiet-quitting our partners (see Wednesday's Mamamia Out Loud).

Watch Holly and the hosts of Mamamia Out Loud discuss quiet-quitting your partner. Post continues below.

We'd been talking about Meghan that very day. Some people say we talk about her too much. I say she's one of the most famous women in the world, and the way those women are discussed tells us a lot about the cultural moment we're in. And the way we generally talk about and treat Meghan, Duchess of Sussex is basically… why won't you pick a lane?

Are you a royal or are you a celebrity? Are you a businesswoman or a humanitarian? Are you above the attention economy, or scrapping it out in its algorithmic arena, like the rest of us? We just don't know what to do with her.

And Megs refuses to make it easy. Even with her jam. Which is not even jam. Or even "preserve". It's "spread".

Images: Supplied.

There's a reason for that, friends. To be called 'jam', it would have to have a higher sugar content — basically what makes it thick and "jammy" is lots and lots of sugar. Megs' spread, of course, is lower in sugar content, which is very Californian of her. But then, also, it's made in a factory in Illinois, which is not.

The raspberry one, which I trialled on the weekend on top of home-made scones with cream is tangy, lemon-y and tastes like money. And Montecito. And being barefoot in a ball gown. And having luggage embossed with your royal title.

All that, in a little mouthful of red spread.

Erica, you are the Outlouder who made my dreams come true.

Now, I can only eat toast with flower sprinkles.

Listen to the entire episode of Mamamia Out Loud here. Post continues below.

Anyway, thanks to Rock Star Outlouder Erica, at least I got to taste it myself. And it tastes… good.

Whack some flower sprinkles on that toast, and you could almost convince yourself you're in Montecito, eating jam sandwiches with Oprah, Gwynny and Meghan. If any of them ate sugar. Or bread.

This article first appeared on Holly Wainwright's Substack, Holly Out Loud. Sign up here.

Feature image: Supplied.