Remember when Prince Harry was basically the royal family’s designated “fun younger brother”? He flew helicopters, pulled pranks, and wore that Nazi costume that one time (we all have a regrettable Halloween, right?). Well, now he’s a California guy who lives in a mansion with a pumpkin patch, and his paycheck looks nothing like a standard 9-to-5 job. If you’re wondering how he keeps the avocado toast stocked at Montecito, you’re not alone—imagine explaining your own side hustle, but with royal drama and Netflix money.
The Netflix Deal: Like Selling Your Family’s Home Movies, But Way More Awkward
First up, Harry and Meghan signed a massive production deal with Netflix—think of it as a creative partnership worth around $100 million. That’s like you and your cousin pooling your birthday money to buy a lemonade stand, except the lemonade is a docuseries about your life’s traumas. They’ve released “Harry & Meghan,” which is basically a six-hour venting session with pretty drone shots of their garden. You know that feeling when you and your sibling argue in front of your parents, and then later you write a tell-all? Yeah, it’s that, but actually profitable.
They also produce shows like “Heart of Invictus,” a documentary about wounded veterans. It’s noble, sure, but it’s also a tax write-off disguised as a passion project. If Netflix cancels them, they might have to pivot to making fake reality shows about other rich people’s divorces—which would be perfect, honestly.
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Podcasts: The Therapy Session You Charge For
Then there’s the podcast game. Harry signed with Archewell Audio (his media company named after their son Archie, not a weird SpongeBob reference) to host a talk show. He’s done episodes with Brené Brown and talked about “vulnerability.” It’s like listening to your college roommate discover therapy for the first time, but with better lighting. Spotify paid them roughly $20 million for this privilege—so you can enjoy his musings on grief while you’re folding laundry, and he gets a check that says “redeemed for one Prince.”
But wait, there’s a twist: Spotify recently parted ways with Archewell, citing “low output.” That’s like your boss saying, “You didn’t send enough meeting invites.” Harry’s response? He’ll probably just start a Substack newsletter called “The Spare’s Spare Thoughts” and charge $8 a month for it. I’d subscribe, mostly for the sheer irony.
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Speaking Engagements: The World’s Most Expensive Motivational Speech
You know how sometimes you get paid to talk at a conference about your “journey”? Harry does that, but his “journey” includes a butler and a castle. He commands $1 million per speech—that’s roughly the price of a nice house in Ohio. He gives talks about mental health, climate change, and “being brave” while standing in front of a $14 million home. It’s like your uncle who quit his job to “find himself,” except his finding came with a book deal and a private jet.
One example: He spoke at a private event for a tech billionaire’s birthday. I imagine the conversation went, “Hi, I’m Prince Harry, and I’m here to remind you that money can’t buy happiness—but it can buy my time for exactly 45 minutes.” The audience claps politely, eats a microgreen salad, and goes back to checking their stock portfolios.
The Book: “Spare” and the Art of Family Gossip
Of course, we can’t forget his memoir, “Spare.” It sold millions of copies, even though the title literally means “second-born who didn’t get the main inheritance.” That’s like writing a book about how your older sibling got the car, the house, and the crown, and then selling that book for $30 a pop. The advance was reportedly $20 million. So yes, Harry turned his family drama into a blueprint for financial independence—like a more dramatic version of your cousin’s GoFundMe to pay off his college loans.
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle: How Do They Make Their Money? - YouTube
And the best part? He actually made more money from the book than from his entire military pension. Which is both sad and hilarious, because it proves that airing dirty laundry is the ultimate side hustle.
Investments and “Ethical” Cash Grabs
Harry and Meghan also invest in companies, but only the “conscious capitalism” kind. They’ve backed startups like a plant-based milk brand and a dog food company—because nothing says “I’m relatable” like investing in oat milk. It’s like the time you bought a bunch of crypto because a friend said it was the future, but Harry’s version involves a photo shoot with a golden retriever and a “mission statement.”
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He also launched a partnership with BetterUp, a mental health coaching app. He’s their “Chief Impact Officer,” which means he gets paid to appear in YouTube videos saying things like, “It’s okay to not be okay,” while wearing a $200 sweatshirt. It’s the same energy as your local gym trying to sell you a “wellness package” with a matcha latte.
The Bottom Line: He’s Basically a Very Rich Influencer
So, how does Prince Harry make money now? He does what every late-30s person with a complicated family does: monetize the drama, speak at events where no one remembers what he said, and pivot to content creation when the trust fund runs dry. He’s essentially an influencer with a crown, a therapist, and a Netflix camera crew.
The next time you’re annoyed by a friend’s relentless Instagram posts about “manifesting abundance,” remember: Harry is out there doing the same thing, just with a British accent and a polo pony. And if you ever feel bad about your own career path, just think—you probably didn’t have to write an entire book about your brother to pay the bills. You’re winning, honestly.
