If home is where the heart is, then mine has always had one foot firmly planted in Brighton. This magnetic city is my happy place and a source of endless inspiration. Brighton is somewhere I have worked, spent many days and evenings with friends and family, and have laughed a lot. It’s an area where I’ve put down roots, not deep or tangled, but enough to feel steady when I’m there. It’s a place I return to, not because I have to, but because it feels like part of me. This post covers what makes Brighton so colourful to me.
Urban art in Brighton
My Brighton rituals begin in the London Road car park in a vibrant, creative district. This area pulses with energy and boasts an ever-evolving urban art scene. Over the years, legendary artists like Banksy have left their mark on Brighton’s walls, blending rebellion with artistry.
My walk into the centre unfolds like an open-air gallery, expressive and constantly changing. When my son was young, we had a tradition of photographing street art, capturing fleeting masterpieces before they vanished beneath new layers. My collection spans two decades, each image a preserved moment in Brighton’s visual history.
From Eelus’s haunting Alice in Wonderland mural on Harrington Lane to Req’s evocative tribute wall of departed musicians on The Prince Albert pub, Brighton’s street art speaks in colour and memory. These aren’t just murals, they’re visual stories etched into the city’s skin.
Snub’s robotic characters appear like old friends on familiar corners, bold and unmistakable. And then there’s Toska11’s Simpsons scene, layered with meaning and nostalgia. Each piece feels like a conversation with the city, sometimes playful, sometimes poignant, always alive.
Lately, I’ve noticed more pieces by The Postman and Sprite, each bringing a fresh energy to the walls. There’s something magical about catching an artist mid-creation, watching the layers build, the image emerge, the city transform in real time. I’ve been lucky enough to witness a few of these moments, the most recent being Sprite’s work on Grafalar Lane. It felt like stumbling into a secret performance.
The Culture in Brighton
Brighton is gloriously non-conformist, a city where the unexpected is part of the everyday. Take Peter Joannou, the singing barber, who serenades passers by from his balcony with classics from Elvis to Sinatra. I’ve spent many Saturdays listening to his impromptu performances. On my last visit, a fellow listener joined in with a chicken perched on his shoulder. That’s Brighton.
One day, you might see a man in a top hat riding a penny-farthing down the promenade – next, a woman strolling with a raven perched regally on her shoulder. Eccentricity is Brighton’s heartbeat, and it feels like there’s an unspoken invitation to be boldly, unapologetically yourself. You might need to take it one step further to stand out here.
Brighton doesn’t have dress codes, it has character. Here, style is self-expression. From eco-conscious layers to vintage flamboyance, locals wear their values and personalities on their sleeves.
As the UK’s only Green Party stronghold, the city pulses with sustainability. Second-hand finds, upcycled pieces, and a love for all things pre-loved shape a street style as thoughtful as bold.
Some lean into London minimalism, elevated by a statement piece from the North Laine. Others go full rainbow, steampunk, or theatrical flapper frills, 1940s tailoring, or head-to-toe vintage. In Brighton, dressing up isn’t reserved for occasions; it’s an everyday art form. Unlike cities chasing seasonal trends, Brighton walks to its own beat.
This open-minded ethos fosters individuality and diversity. The culture thrives on independent businesses, inventive restaurants, and community-driven creative hubs. You feel it in the flavours, the storefronts, and the people. To understand where this vibrant culture originated, you need to go back in history.
The Royal Pavilion
The Royal Pavilion – Brighton’s jewel – was once the seaside retreat of King George IV, a man who rejected the constraints of his upbringing to pursue beauty, extravagance, and pleasure.
Originally prescribed sea baths for his health, George found more than healing in Brighton; he found fashionistas, artists, and a vibrant party scene. A passionate patron of the arts, architecture, and fashion, he purchased the Pavilion for its view of the promenade. He transformed it into a palace of exotic splendour.
Inspired by his love of visual arts and fascination with the East, he adorned the residence with Chinese export furnishings, intricate hand-painted wallpapers, and ornate décor. His rebellious streak led him to embrace a lavish lifestyle of drinking, gambling, and romance.
Walking through the Pavilion, I can imagine stepping out of my carriage in 1823, entering the Long Gallery with its rosy-hued walls, faux bamboo (actually English Beechwood), and bowing statues. I can imagine Brighton society in full feather, elegantly dressed and ready to impress.
The Banqueting Room is a spectacle. A huge chandelier adorned with over 100 dragons (which puff smoke when lit) hangs beneath a ceiling painted to resemble banana leaves. I can imagine dining here, escorted by a tall, handsome footman. It’s said that taller men earn higher salaries and serve the most important guests. King George, ever the rule-breaker, sat in the middle of the table to enjoy the conversation and the lavish menu prepared by French chefs.
After dinner, guests would retire to the saloon, where a golden sun glows from the ceiling, an homage to King Louis XIV. George would make his entrance in a puff of smoke, inviting guests to the after-party with theatrical flair.
In the Music Room, the resident band would play beneath a dome lined with scallop shells, tapering inward like a Chinese jewellery box. Red and gold dominate the room, with dragons hidden among the lotus-shaped chandeliers.
Though centuries have passed, George IV’s spirit lingers. His legacy of indulgence and artistry still pulses through Brighton’s culture.
The Pavilion Gardens
Beyond the Pavilion’s exotic spires, the gardens offer a pocket of calm, perfect for a break. I love sitting here, listening to Brighton’s buskers and watching the world go by; tourists admiring the architecture, students sketching under trees, and locals reading in the shade or feeding pigeons in flocks.
The Lanes
Venture into The Lanes, and you’ll find Brighton at its most eclectic. These pedestrian-only streets are a charming tangle of Victorian façades and bold street art.
Packed with independent shops, vintage boutiques, art galleries, and hidden cafés, The Lanes are a magnet for wanderers. Local jewellers sit beside tattoo studios, and buskers provide a soundtrack to your steps.
Snoopers Attic is one of my favourite places to hunt vintage treasure. It’s the kind of place where you could stumble upon anything, from a judge’s wig to a full suit of knight’s armour. On my last visit, I unearthed a giant fossil that instantly transported me back to my childhood. It reminded me of my father’s loved fossil collection, much of which he generously donated to Mr Mortlock, my junior school head teacher, who shared the same passion for ancient relics!
That’s the magic of Snoopers Attic: you never know what you’ll walk out with, or which forgotten corner of memory lane you’ll wander down.
For lunch, I always find myself drawn back to La Choza. This bright pink gem specialises in flavour-packed Mexican street food. Its window is a riot of colour, festooned with pom-poms, coloured skulls, and skeletons. Step inside, and the fiesta continues: vinyl tablecloths in bold prints, fluttering papel picado flags overhead, and eclectic statues of Christ tucked between hot sauce bottles and tequila racks.
It’s colourful, friendly, and fun, just like the food. I always end up with a burrito bursting with slow-cooked meat and zingy salsa, paired with a shot of tequila or a dark and stormy rum. It’s not just lunch, it’s a ritual, a little escape to Mexico in the heart of Brighton.
Rainbow street
Brighton’s colours extend beyond the centre. Many streets are painted in bright hues or adorned with graffiti murals. Hanover, a short (and steep) walk from the centre, is known for its colourful houses and sweeping views.
If you visit, stop by the Wild Organic Cherry deli café hidden in the residential area, it’s a gem. Riad, the Palestinian owner, believes in nourishing the body, “one must look after one’s temple,” he says.
The outdoor seating is carved from trees, with coffee sack tablecloths, hanging herb baskets, and root vegetables and fruit crates. The food is fresh, organic, and beautifully prepared. Ask Riad for his under-the-counter homemade raw chocolate, it’s divine. I’ve tried to persuade him to open a branch in my hometown, but he smiled and said, “I can’t dance at two weddings.” So it remains a Brighton coffee stop treat.
The Pub Games in Brighton
There’s always something to do in Brighton, and the pubs play a central role in bringing people together, not just to drink, but to play. You’ll find the classics like skittles, darts, and pub quizzes. But Brighton being Brighton, things get a little more unconventional.
In the World’s End pub, upstairs, it’s a full-blown arcade. There’s a gigantic Scalextric track where up to 10 players can race remote-control cars like it’s the Monaco Grand Prix. There are also vintage arcade machines and a virtual reality gaming zone, a gamer’s paradise.
Pubs like Sidewinder and Mash Tun keep things casual but fun. Expect pop-up games, spontaneous competitions, and beer gardens buzzing with energy.
But the most unusual pub game I’ve come across? Toad in the Hole (or just Toads). My good friend Jo introduced me to this Brighton-born classic. It’s played on a square, lead-topped table. Players toss brass coins (called toads) from a set distance, aiming to land them on the table or, better yet, in the hole at its centre. Points are scored accordingly, and the competition gets fierce. The game has spread to pubs like Hand in Hand and Victory Inn, spawning a full-on pub league. It’s part skill, part luck and a lot of fun.
Brighton’s parades: where the city comes alive
Brighton’s community spirit doesn’t just live in its streets, it dances through them. The city’s festivals are more than events; they’re expressions of identity, creativity, and togetherness. Another reason I feel so connected to this place.
One of my favourites is Burning of the Clocks, held every 21 December to mark the winter solstice. There’s something profoundly moving about watching a parade of handmade lanterns, each one crafted with care, winding through the city in the dark. The procession ends on the beach, where the lanterns are burned in a bonfire, symbolising the release of the old year and the welcoming of the new. It’s quiet and powerful, a ritual that feels both ancient and personal. Last year, a lantern shaped like a Lego man made me smile; it was playful and loved by the children.
Then there’s Pride, a celebration that’s anything but quiet. It’s possibly the most colourful event of the year, and one of the most joyful. Pride transforms the city into a living rainbow, unapologetically vibrant and inclusive. It’s not just a party, it’s a statement, a celebration of love in all its forms. I always feel proud to be part of a city that embraces people so openly.
And no matter the festival, the afterparty always finds its way to the beach. That’s where Brighton lets loose. Local fire dancers twirl flames against the night sky, hula hoopers spin in rhythm, drummers build a heartbeat that echoes across the shore. Other locals arrive with sound systems, and tourists gather, wide-eyed and smiling. It’s spontaneous, raw, and full of life. The seagulls are as outrageous as the locals, so if you are walking down the beach with a plate of chips, beware!
Brighton knows how to celebrate, not just with spectacle, but with soul. These traditions aren’t just kept alive; they’re lived, felt, and shared. Every time I witness them, I feel a little more rooted in this city that never stops surprising me.
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