I am standing across the street from a five-star hotel in Sydney’s eastern suburbs wearing sunglasses and a large hat like a low-budget private detective.

My noble aim is to spot Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, or at the very least scope out the exclusive women’s wellness retreat – shrouded in mystery – where she is slated to appear on the final day of her and Harry’s whirlwind four-day trip down under.

The office of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex have declined to comment on her appearance at the retreat, and no media are being allowed access to the room in the InterContinental where Meghan was scheduled to appear at 4.30pm on Friday.

One Channel 7 employee’s registration was even withdrawn when organisers discovered she was a working journalist.

At 1pm, when I arrive, it is just me and some security guards. Guests aren’t expected to check in until 3. Then a TV crew arrives, and a couple of photographers. Since we can’t go inside, we mill pointlessly on the sidewalk.

As women start to get dropped off in fancy cars, wheeling designer suitcases and carrying neatly pressed gowns, a swarm of reporters attempt to interview someone who turns out to be the official yoga instructor.

It’s apt that the weekend retreat is run by a podcast called “Her Best Life”, because you’d having to be living your best life, financially, to afford to shell out a few thousand dollars for a ticket.

Tickets range from $2,699 to $3,199, depending if you’re comfortable sharing a room with a stranger. Those willing to pay the VIP price receive their own room and nab a group table photo with the duchess.

The podcast was founded by media executive Gemma O’Neill and radio presenter Jackie “O” Henderson in 2024 as part of their company “Besties Australia”.

Henderson arrives to a swarm of paparazzi just before 4.30pm, with O’Neill to lead the event and an in-conversation with Meghan.

Pitched as an exclusive “girls’ weekend like no other”, the retreat is being held at the InterContinental Hotel in Coogee Beach until Sunday; however, Meghan is only expected to appear for an hour or two between a boat ride on the Sydney Harbour and a rugby match at Allianz Stadium.

Apart from getting up close and personal to Meghan, the guests, capped at a strict 300, will also be able to participate in sound healing, a meditation and “manifestation” session, “pool time”, group therapy and a disco – alcohol included.

By 3pm, a few dozen guests and a car full of sniffer dogs have made it inside but there’s no sign of the duchess. A man drives past and yells “HI MEGHAN” out the window.

I chat to a woman passing by who’s just been for a swim. She says she knew Meghan would be in the area but “with everything going on in the world right now, she is not even in my orbit”.

It’s a sentiment shared by Belinda, Jackie and Suzanne, who are visiting Sydney from Adelaide. Jackie thinks it’s “extraordinary” to be holding an event like this while many Australians are struggling with the cost of living.

“I just think they’re commercialising everything, they’re not really that genuine,” she says.

Belinda says they only realised today the couple would be in Sydney when her brother asked if she planned to go see them.

“And I said, ‘no, I’m not’,” she says.

“I’m not a royalist,” Suzanne adds.

The retreat has been swirling with media controversy since Meghan was announced as a headliner in March. Ticket sales have been opaque – two weeks out, Her Best Life announced a “handful of additional rooms” had been released, and with just days to go, plugged there was “FINAL LAST MINUTE AVAILABILITY!!” due to “movement”.

A scathing article published to Radar Online labelled the event a wellness retreat “from hell” before it had even taken place, somehow linking it to the “poo balls” that have been washing up on Sydney’s beaches.

“Attendees might be subject to an awful stench if they try to enjoy time on the beach,” the article warned (poo balls have not been spotted in Sydney since January, at a beach located seven kilometres from Coogee).

O’Neill’s business dealings have also been dredged up, including the voluntary liquidation of her business, Gemmie Agency, in November for $546,000. Such has been the backlash that O’Neill took to her podcast on 1 April condemning media coverage that had been “pretty hurtful and in many parts inaccurate”.

“I’m very much looking forward to interviewing Meghan, Duchess of Sussex,” she said in a teary recording. “I have been in awe of how she handles all of the public scrutiny she receives … so there’s a lot that I want to ask her.”

There’s a lot that the whole world wants to ask of Meghan.

How much is she making from this commercial endeavour? Why is she appearing as a guest judge onMasterChef Australia? Why has she joined an AI fashion discovery platform? Why does she describe her company, As Ever – which sells flower sprinkles and leather bookmarks, among other things – as a “love language” more than a brand?

Maybe a better question is, why the hell not?

By 4pm, it feels like every news outlet in the nation is stationed outside the InterContinental. A BBC reporter moves a couple of wheelie bins down the street to get a better shot for his live cross.

The consensus is that Meghan and Harry are already inside the hotel and have been since leaving Sydney Harbour. In a couple of hours, she will be whisked away to attend the rugby and may not even make it through the main course of the retreat’s dinner.

Meanwhile, guests mill in the lobby in colourful ballgowns, taking selfies and waving at the press.

Across the road, a woman stands on her balcony filming the bizarre affair on her phone. I ask her if she’s a fan of Meghan.

“Well, I’m British, so I quite like the royals,” she replies. “But $3,000 for a selfie and a chat? That’s insane.”