A Quiet-cation in Margate: Wandering the Windy Alleys of Old Town

My mind needed a reset. From the endless loop of school runs and after-school clubs. Shop admin, new prints, an ongoing range commission. All good things, but all-consuming.

Margate, barely an hour and a half from Bromley, yet a different world entirely. Quiet this time of year, as expected. The weather sat somewhere between seasons - neither sunny nor cold, just a little gloomy and wind-whipped. No crowds, no queues, no weaving through tourists in narrow lanes or waiting endlessly for a table in one of those little cafés. Bliss. (Or maybe I’m just getting old.)

Margate’s brochures love to show off its colourful, quirky shopfronts and independent cafés, but the first thing you see when you step out of the station is a massive grey Brutalist block — dark, brooding, and oddly beautiful against the overcast sky. As you walk further, the atmosphere turns surreal: boarded-up shops, silent slot arcades, shuttered theatres, graffiti. (I’m really not selling Margate, am I?)

Then, you hit the Old Town — and everything shifts. The architecture softens. The lanes narrow into clusters of indie shops with colourful façades, the kind of small-town charm I’d been craving. If you love hipster cafés (like me) — avocado toast, sourdough, matcha-turmeric lattes — this is your haven. I even found more vegan options here than anywhere in London. Curve quickly became a favourite: great coffee, a snack, a little quiet time to work.

What’s lovelier than a tiny bookshop? A tiny bookshop that serves tea. Margate Bookshop is the kind of place made for slow wandering. Maybe it’s just me, but the locals here seemed genuinely friendly — quick to chat, share stories, offer recommendations. It feels like a town where everyone knows everyone. The warmth shows in the murals, posters, and even the hand-painted signs.

As the sun began to dip, I grabbed a cup of cocoa and wandered along the windy promenade. Time to think about the past few months. Mostly my work, what I’d planned to achieve versus what I’d actually managed. I realised how much I’d neglected this blog. I used to write often: random musings, thoughts on my art, photos from travels. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost that spark to write about the small both significant and insignificant moments. I hadn’t been reading much either.

I pulled a book from my bag, one I’d been carrying for months. Managed a few pages before the chill set in, then retreated to the warmth of a café overlooking the town square.

The next morning was fresh and bright — perfect for what I’d been most looking forward to: The Turner Contemporary. A sharp, white, minimalist structure rising from the old town like a quiet statement. Not a large gallery, but beautifully curated. I was captivated by Simone Leigh’s sculptures, Bisi and Untitled — powerful and serene against the wall of windows framing the sea.

It takes about twenty minutes to wander through, and the shop is worth a browse. If you’re looking for a peaceful spot to work with a sea view, I highly recommend Louie by the Sea Café inside Turner. The coffee’s good, the view’s better, and it’s the perfect place to pause and get through a few lingering tasks.

There are some lovely design-led boutiques and stores that shouldn't be missed. Harbour & Tide by the promenade, The Store Collective on Hawley Street, Asobi Store, and Aaarven in the Old Town. A few hidden galleries, the occasional artist at work by the window- it’s a town full of small creative surprises.

I avoided anything labelled “tourist attraction,” though I’ll probably return with my son one day to explore the Shell Grotto and Margate Caves, maybe even Dreamland, when the weather’s kinder.

For now, I’m heading back to London. Ready for a big mug of tea and an even bigger cuddle from the four-year-old I’ve absolutely missed.