Folkestone isn’t like Margate, or Ramsgate, or even Broadstairs, which all have that slightly battered and bedraggled edging just a stone’s throw away from the chichi streets. It’s not surprising that so many Londoners have decided to swap the city for a slice of it (”Why Londoners are moving to Kent in their droves”), either for a good or just for a little weekend jaunt, as it has a cool, and more upmarket feel. You get the real sense that somebody came along, tore it up, and started again. For that is precisely what happened.
This seaside town started with a glamorous past – and it’s now in the process of a significant glow-up. In the early 1900s it was a favourite escape for Edward VII, passengers from the Orient Express would disembark here. That railway line sadly fell into disrepair, but has now had an upmarket regeneration, to make it Folkestone’s answer to the New York highline. The green and cream signs in both French and English point to its historic past but you can now walk along the former trainline itself, which has been filled with plants and little trees, and benches made from old railway sleepers.
This is all part of the £50 million renaissance plan by Sir Roger de Haan, the former owner of Saga Travel, and now the head – and benefactor – of the Folkstone Harbour & Seafront Development. I was blown away by how smart it now is – this should be a blueprint for all other tired seaside towns. Of course, it’s not the only one to be successfully regenerating: click here for five more hipster-friendly seaside spots for London leavers looking for work-life balance.
The facelift is everywhere from the old town to the beach itself, to the harbour, which has been turned to a square of food markets, with a giant cinema screen showing films throughout the summer. The Old High St has been rebranded as the ‘creative quarter’, which stands out with its brightly coloured buildings; inside these are an impressive number of independent shops from the Moo like a monkey toy shop to the wildly popular Steep Street Coffee shop. There is also The Quarterhouse, with art galleries and bars, and which hosts comedy shows and theatre.
Where to stay
I visited to have a sneaky peek at another part of De Haan’s project, a block of luxury apartments called Shoreline, which have been the subject of rather a lot of controversy. A behemoth sitting on Folkestone’s shingle shoreline, this curved white apartment block (where prices range from £430,000 for a one-bed to £3million for the penthouse) is the first of several blocks to be built a short walk from the harbour. Read more about the penthouse suites here.
Two of the apartments , originally held back as a “try before you buy” setup for potential purchasers, are now also used for high-end and luxury week or weekend rentals, at a cost of around £1000 a night. I spent a night doing just that. The position of Shoreline is quite amazing, opening directly onto the shingle beach. Despite being called apartments, the building is mostly divided into tall, thin, multi-level houses to maximise sea views. You can either enter through the underground car park at the back of the property, or via the sea-level front door, which opens out onto a garden with hardy windproof plants and grasses, and a boardwalk leading to the shingle. Inside, the interiors are minimalist with a touch of seaside chic, whether that’s the red and white striped double bed on the ground floor, or the pale wood kitchen cupboards. The curves of the tiled exterior of the building were mocked for the whistling noise they make when the wind blows – but it’s not something I heard while I was there.
With that many windows overlooking the sea, you really feel you’re in the thick of coastal living. We sat on the first floor on the sturdy yet soft houndstooth corner sofa, admiring the clarity of the sea, which has a surprisingly turquoise colour for the UK, thanks to the beach being shingle rather than sand. I couldn’t help but keep the French doors open to hear the sea beating against the beach. The wildness of the sound is weirdly therapeutic. You wouldn’t buy a house here if you didn’t love the elements.
Critics dislike how the building dominates the coastline, conveniently forgetting that this portion of beach was previously an unattractive stretch of concrete and tarmac, amusement arcades, a lorry park and a nightclub. The beach itself has, as part of De Haan’s project and at vast expense, now been raised by 1.5m to help protect against flood risk, and couldn’t look more different to its previous incarnation. No wonder everyone who walks past stops and stares, enthralled by this big beast. The problem with something that stands out this much, is that it really, really attracts attention.
Where to eat
We were welcomed in the apartment with a hamper of local treats, from Kent crisps to a sparkling rose from nearby Terlingham vineyard. The kitchen is so well stocked with gadgets that it feels more like staying in a wildly rich friend’s apartment than a rental. They even installed baby gates for us (a big relief, with our newly-walking toddler), a brand new cot, and beach toys for the kids.
Our time exploring Folkestone was an almost constant flow of food and drink. In the afternoon we wandered 10 minutes from Shoreline, along the boardwalk towards the Folkestone Harbour Line, and first grabbed some delicious tacos from The Taco Shed. The next stop was Chummys, a popular seafood bar in the harbour, buzzy and busy with an endless queue of people wanting anything from a little pot of prawns to a fresh scallop and bacon bap, sweet and salty and a little bit spicy from a dash of chilli vinegar. Then, even though it was a heavy grey sky and blustery weather, we couldn’t resist sitting in the garden of The Pilot Bar, a beach bar in a shipping container, built on the footprint of the town’s old pilot station. Deckchairs, bumper cars from old fairground rides, palm trees – and loved it. Next door to this bar is Little Rock, in another shipping container, the sister to Rocksalt, and formerly part of chef Mark Sargeant’s empire. Rocksalt was where we headed for supper, an early doors meal where the children could not have been better looked after. Beautifully fresh fish in crispy batter with peas and mash for them; scallops with crispy black pudding and chargrilled corn followed by roast skate wing, and a cod with chowder and leek powder for the adults.
We then spent the evening sitting out on the balcony, wrapped in the apartment’s soft wool and mohair Stackelberg of Stockholm blankets, looking out over a dark and stormy sea. There for less than 24h, I nonetheless felt completely restored in a way that only the sea – even in the depths of winter – can really do.
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