A whole political and cultural era is passing, and who better than the Duchess of Sussex as a symbol of all we have left behind

Are peonies a life philosophy? Are “life philosophies” even philosophy? I have to hold on to the idea that they aren’t, even in the face of a decade or so of Instagram blitzkrieg, most currently in the form of Duchess Meghan’s eight-part new TV show, which dropped on Netflix first thing this morning. With Love, Meghan seems to have migrated fully formed from Mark Zuckerberg’s social media platform on to Ted Sarandos’s streaming service, powered by the hashtags that bypass the need for joined-up sentences, let alone thinking. Or as Her Grace explains: “Everyone’s invited to create wonder in every moment.” This is an offer not even promised by most major religions.

The mildest way to describe this show is as a ghastly artefact of a particular cultural era that recently met its apocalypse. But more on that later. To anyone who says, “It’s just meant to be fun”: bullshit. Netflix reportedly paid $100m (£78m) to Prince Harry and the manic pixie dream duchess for an overall deal, so for the streamer it’s meant to make back at least a small amount of the big amount of money they’ve lost, when audiences failed to connect with the Sussex-authored documentaries about global justice activists and polo. For Meghan, it’s supposed to assist her transformation into domestic guru. If you don’t mind arching an eyebrow at the lifestyle lunacies of fellow Montecito resident Gwyneth Paltrow, then at least have some consistency and give yourself a pass on this one. This show is sensationally absurd and trite, and if you watch it, you know it.