Brighton’s an interesting place in terms of contrast: it’s where many retire to in their twilight years, and it’s a seaside resort attracting thousands of tourists every year; it is also incredibly bohemian in disposition and atmosphere, plus it’s the gay capital of the UK. It’s full of fascinating examples of architecture from the last couple of hundred years (including the Prince Regent’s [later King George IV] Royal Pavilion, built between 1787 and 1823 and rendered in a then extremely fashionable Oriental style, with minarets and domes aplenty) but it’s also full of tourist tackiness and hyperactive nightclub life. Lastly, it’s a place where a dignified and genteel decay rubs shoulders with garish neon modernism and concrete.
