Oh irony, you are a cruel mistress. Thursday broke with crisp sunlight and blue skies, exactly the same weather as four years ago to the day when Harry and Meghan, Duke and Duchess of Sussex wed in Windsor.
What more appropriate day then, for the world to find out that the Sussexes, ostensibly now freed from the tweedy demands of working royaldom, have been shooting an "at-home docuseries" for Netflix which has "Hollywood insiders … abuzz about the show".
According to Page Six, not only has a TV crew been following the couple for Harry's Heart of Invictus, a documentary about the sporting championship for wounded former and active service personnel, but they have also been doing so for an "'at-home with the Duke and Duchess of Sussex-style' docuseries".
"The cameras have been allowed behind the scenes at their home in Montecito, California, and joined the Sussexes on their trip to NYC last September," claimed the report.
"I think it's fair to say that Netflix is getting its pound of flesh," a highly placed Hollywood insider told Page Six.
But c'mon, let's call a spade a spade here. No amount of tricky nomenclature can really hide the fact that what the duke and duchess are working on sounds, based on this report, exactly like a reality TV show.
While Netflix and Team Sussex have yet to comment on this report, if Page Six is on the money, this would have to constitute one of the fastest falls in British royal history since Lady Jane Grey managed to last only nine days as Queen of England. (Her stint was so brief they didn't even manage to get a coronation in.)
Dignity, I hardly knew thee.
In only four years, the Sussexes have gone from being global darlings, resoundingly adored with desk drawers full of enterprising plans for charity projects, to reducing themselves to proto-Kardashians.
In the words of an Archewell intern, there is a lot to unpack here.
Firstly, this is just a bit sad. What this move lays bare is just how desperate they would seem to be for money and to prop up their celebrity.
Harry and Meghan might spend hours writing press releases about how they are going to help change the world but said change has so far yet to materialise. What they have managed to get done instead, based on this Page Six report, is shoot untold hours of behind-the-scenes footage. (Oh goodie, who else can't wait to tune in to watch the Duke of Montecito practise his downward dog or see how much vegan latte spon-con they can cram in?)
Just to get particularly clichéd, actions speak louder than words, and no amount of shoehorning their titles into a media release can compensate for the lack of tangible action. Self-aggrandising declarations can only ever get them so far.
When the couple announced their reported A$140 million deal with the streaming giant back in 2020, they promised "impactful content that unlocks action." Either a) this was genuinely misguided and they have now realised the only way to keep Netflix sweet is to let a camera crew in their front door or b) this was the plan all along.
Secondly, there is no coming back from this. They might be getting paid millions, which would no doubt come as a relief now that they have to pay for their own hot and cold running bodyguards, but it does irrevocably take their brand from globetrotting philanthropist territory to Kardashian-esque depths.
While their bank accounts might enjoy a nice boon, their carefully cultivated image and credibility will surely take a hit.
The problem with going down this route is that once they do this, they will be forever tarred with the reality TV brush.
From a PR perspective, they can't have their cake and eat it too; they can't take Netflix's cash and do this show and also purport to be in the same league, gravitas-wise, as the Obamas and Bill and Melinda Gates.
When it comes down to it, what this news really exposes is where their priorities would seem to lie.
In the eternal words of Destiny's Child, they now face "Bills, bills, bills".
But, going down this route could represent a point-of-no-return in regards to the royal family.
While the Windsors might occasionally let TV audiences inside their rarefied world, like for this year's touching commemoration Prince Philip: The Royal Family Remembers, they are all one-offs which are more tightly controlled than a BTS fan meet-and-greet.
The Queen has very much learned her lesson on this front.
In the late 1960s, Her Majesty, at the urging of Philip, allowed cameras inside Buckingham Palace for the imaginatively named one-off documentary, Royal Family. It was a mistake from the get-go and watching Her Majesty make salad dressing was not only exceedingly dull but reduced her august personage to shocking bourgeois hausfrau territory.
It was a lesson in how imperative it is to maintain enough stardust around the monarchy while still occasionally displaying the common touch.
While there are cameras even vaguely in their vicinity, the entire royal family probably won't come near them with a 40-foot gilt barge pole.
Once the reality TV genie is out, can they ever put it back in the bottle?
If Harry and Meghan reduce themselves to reality TV 'stars', will the Queen, say, still want to invite them to Balmoral for summer holidays when there is the possibility that anything the family says or does could later be relayed to gawping Netflix viewers?
Will the Sussexes be let in on any news about, for example, Her Majesty's health if there is even the remotest of possibilities it might end up as fodder for an episode no viewer can afford to miss?
What Netflix has really bought here is not access to aspirant philanthropists-slash-thought leaders with exciting ideas about the power of hugs, but two members of the royal family.
What makes them so attractive to TV bosses aren't their thoughts on parental leave but their proximity to the Palace.
No matter how much the couple themselves might enthusiastically bang on about climate change or gender equality, while they are mic'ed up and in the shot, at the end of the day, what viewers want is to press their noses up against the glass of royalty. They want access inside the Sussexes' ostensibly perfect world and to see a real-life duke and duchess in the wild, if you will.
Doing something that could look a lot like using their royal status for financial gain could end up putting them in the Queen's crosshairs.
For now, the big question is when this "docu-series" might hit screens.
"The timing is still being discussed, things are up in the air," one producer "in the know" has said.
"We're told that Netflix chiefs would like the series by the end of the year to tie in Harry's hotly-anticipated memoir, the Sussex camp would rather it air next year," Page Six reports.
No matter when this series lands, the result will be the same: The Duke and Duchess of Sussex are open for business.
Daniela Elser is a royal expert and a writer with more than 15 years experience working with a number of Australia's leading media titles.