The ink hasn’t dried on the whole Catherine Tyldesley cakegate saga and we’re back with a fresh free cake request. This time, it drops in my inbox. A PR company sent an enquiry asking for “support” with a celebrity.

As someone who bakes luxury celebration cakes across London and Surrey and offers full cake delivery, I’ve seen my fair share of eyebrow-raising “opportunities”, but this one took the biscuit.

The event is being held at a fancy hotel, and they are expecting around 140 guests.

They mentioned who the celebrity was (I'm aware of her—Munroe Bergdorf, model and high-profile campaigner I quite admire), and also listed a lot of names from the guest list, of whom I recognised a few as pop stars and fashion folk.

The PR company stated that in return for the “support” cake we would get a tag on the celeb’s socials, some photos and videos from the event, and that they were trying to secure coverage in Vogue.

If you do the bare minimum research on me, you’d know my feelings about sponsorships and gifted cakes. The email instantly got my back up. Not only have they not looked us up, but they were asking for around £1,500 worth of bespoke cake work in exchange for “exposure”. I’m working mad hours through this awful cost-of-living crisis, have just moved from London to the countryside, am commuting 2.5 hours each way, unpacking boxes till 2 a.m., have my practical driving test tomorrow, and these clowns are really pushing my buttons.

At first I thought I’d play along. Lead them up the garden path, and then on the day I’d send them a practical joke cake with a message: “Support Small Business you absolute aubergines”. But that would still cost money—a box and delivery we simply can’t justify for the sake of a joke. Très triste.

Then I thought of sending a snarky reply. Cuz I love doing that. But the PR doesn’t care. They’ve very likely blasted that email to everyone on the first three pages of Google, and someone will bite at this “amazing support opportunity”, thus keeping the free-cake cycle alive. So I thought nah. I shared the email on our Instagram hoping other cake makers wouldn’t fall for it—plus I could at least giggle at whatever “exposure” they ended up with.

The response on Instagram was overwhelming support and collective frustration. But then the PR company started sending me antagonising emails about “breaching confidentiality”. Which is ridiculous. Look—don’t name drop if you don’t want names dropped. And an email signature is not a legal confidentiality agreement. Their disclaimer related to the sole use of the intended recipient… which was me. How I choose to use the email is up to me.

What was most surprising was Munroe herself reaching out to me—via DM and commenting on the post—very quickly. She had no idea any of this was happening. It wasn’t her PR, but a third party. They aren’t her team. They had no business sharing her guest list or mentioning her employer. She was mortified. And I genuinely believe she wouldn’t have asked them to send beggy emails.

As with social media, some assumed the request came from her. It didn’t. Munroe didn’t know, didn’t ask, and the second she saw my post she reached out. We’ve chatted on DMs and spoken on the phone. She is genuinely gutted and thoroughly cringed out.

I wish I had given her the benefit of the doubt and written to her directly. She may or may not have responded, but at least I’d have given her the opportunity to put things right. It’s also her birthday, and I never want to ruin birthdays (considering I’m in the business of making birthday cakes great!).

This story actually had a happy ending—for a moment. For the first time in freebie-request history, the celebrity came through. I was making Munroe’s cake. They had the budget and were paying—no passive-aggressive Aunty Cath “HoPe ThE CaKe LaDy GoT ThE eXpO$uRe” shade. Just genuine empathy and support.

Over the past year, these PR “support requests” have only multiplied, usually dressed up with faux-glam promises: “We can get you seen by X influencer”, “We’re securing press”, “It’ll be great exposure”. It’s become an entire micro-industry of asking small businesses to subsidise luxury events. And honestly? I think more of us speaking up has started shifting the tide. People are beginning to realise that independent makers aren’t props—they’re professionals. If you want to see what celebrity events actually look like when they go well, have a browse of the best and worst celebrity wedding cakes.

I may even have gone to her party (which, now that I live in the sticks, would’ve been the highlight of my social calendar). Now all I need is for the powers above to help me pass my driving test tomorrow.

Wish me luck. And thank you as always for your support. And Munroe, I’m sorry for the grief caused and look forward to baking for you.

Update to the update: after this story hit the Daily Mail, the event was apparently cancelled and there is no cake order. It’s a real shame—it could’ve been such a cool arc for once: PRs caught out → celeb steps in → cake maker gets paid. Ah well. Too good to be true.

And my driving test? Don’t want to talk about it :(

Tomorrow will be a better day. Hopefully!

Love,

Reshmi xoxo