He was the "cool" one. Before Princess Diana made the monarchy feel human and long before Harry and Meghan started their own media machine, there was Antony Armstrong Jones Lord Snowdon. Most people today probably recognize him from a binge-watch of The Crown, portrayed as a leather-jacketed, motorbike-riding rebel who swept Princess Margaret off her feet and into a whirlwind of 1960s debauchery.
Honestly? The real story is even weirder.
Antony Armstrong-Jones wasn't just some "snapper" who got lucky with a royal title. He was a man of contradictions: a high-society darling who spent his weekends in the grittiest parts of London, an artist who hated the word "art," and a tireless advocate for the disabled who hid his own physical struggles behind a wall of charm. To understand the 20th century, you kinda have to understand Snowdon.
The Man Behind the Camera
Tony, as his friends called him, didn't start his life looking for a crown. He started it with a camera. Born in 1930 to a barrister and a socialite, his childhood was a bit of a mess. His parents divorced when he was five, and he was basically shuttled between houses.
Then came the polio.
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At sixteen, while at Eton, he contracted the virus. It was 1946—long before vaccines. He spent six months in a hospital bed in Liverpool. His mother didn't visit him once. That's the kind of thing that stays with you. It left him with a permanent limp and a shortened leg, though he became an expert at hiding it. You’d see him zooming around on a 500cc Norton motorcycle or coxing the Cambridge rowing team to victory, all while refusing to be defined by a "disability."
By the time he hit his twenties, he was already the most sought-after photographer in London. He didn't do the stiff, boring portraits favored by the old guard like Cecil Beaton. Tony wanted grit. He wanted truth. He’d photograph Marlene Dietrich or a young David Bowie with the same unflinching gaze he used for a documentary on mental hospitals.
That Marriage (and the Chaos that Followed)
When he met Princess Margaret in 1958, it was like a match hitting a powder keg. She was the bored, beautiful sister of the Queen; he was the rakish commoner who lived in a basement studio.
Their wedding in 1960 was the first royal wedding ever televised. Over 20 million people tuned in. It felt like the dawn of a new era. For the first time in 400 years, a commoner was marrying a king’s daughter. But the "fairytale" was mostly for the cameras.
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The reality was a toxic mix of intense passion and even more intense infidelity.
- The Bread Game: They used to sit at posh dinner parties and play a game. Every time someone said a cliché, they’d place a piece of bread on the table. Whoever had the most bread by the end of the night won.
- The Notes: Tony was notorious for leaving nasty notes for Margaret. He’d tuck them into her books or drawers. One reportedly said, "You look like a Jewish manicurist and I hate you."
- The Affairs: It wasn't just Margaret and her gardener, Roddy Llewellyn. Tony was having affairs before, during, and after the marriage. In fact, he fathered a daughter, Polly Fry, just weeks after the royal wedding.
They eventually divorced in 1978. It was the first royal divorce since Henry VIII’s time. It was scandalous, messy, and yet, somehow, they stayed friends until she died in 2002.
Changing the Way We See the World
If you think Antony Armstrong Jones Lord Snowdon was only famous for his marriage, you’re missing the best part of his legacy. He was an inventor. He was a designer. He was a campaigner.
He designed the famous Snowdon Aviary at the London Zoo—a massive, futuristic mesh structure that still looks modern today. He also invented the "Chairmobile," an electric wheelchair that was way ahead of its time. Because he’d lived through polio, he was obsessed with accessibility long before it was a buzzword in politics. He used his seat in the House of Lords to push for the Chronically Sick and Disabled Persons Act of 1970.
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He didn't just take pictures of the elite; he used his camera to show the things society wanted to ignore. His documentary Don't Count the Candles won two Emmys for its haunting look at aging.
Why He Still Matters
We live in an era of curated Instagram feeds and "authentic" branding. Snowdon did it first. He was the one who taught the Royal Family that they needed to be seen as people, not just symbols.
He took the first official photos of a shy Lady Diana Spencer. He captured the Queen looking like a mother, not just a monarch. He stripped away the velvet curtains and showed the world that even the most famous people have shadows.
What you can learn from Snowdon's legacy:
- Challenge the Status Quo: Tony didn't follow the "rules" of royal photography. He brought a miniature Leica camera into rooms where giant, tripod-mounted beasts were the norm.
- Use Your Platform: He used his royal connection to shine a light on disability rights and social issues.
- Don't Let Labels Limit You: He was a photographer, an Earl, an inventor, and a documentary filmmaker. He refused to be just one thing.
Antony Armstrong Jones Lord Snowdon died in 2017 at the age of 86. He left behind over 280 works in the National Portrait Gallery and a reputation as a man who was deeply flawed but undeniably brilliant. He was the man who brought "cool" to the palace, even if he burned a few bridges along the way.
To really appreciate his work, you should check out his retrospective at the National Portrait Gallery or look for his book Private View. It’s a masterclass in seeing the world as it actually is—messy, beautiful, and complicated.