The real challenge facing Britain's grande dame seafront hotels

The First World War poet Wilfred Owen famously died young, aged 25, so few buildings are connected to him. Thankfully, one of them, the 1864 Clifton Hotel at Scarborough in North Yorkshire, has just been listed by Historic England in recognition of the time he spent there writing poetry, enjoying the sea views from his turret room.

Ironically, he was there to recover from shell-shock, not for a seaside holiday. The routine business of hotels such as this — incidentally accommodating a celebrated figure at an important moment — is rarely sufficient for listing and architectural significance is only granted to the very grandest. Yet even for these, once by-words for comfort and splendour, built at a vast scale with hundreds of bedrooms, there is now a real challenge.

Travellers to the seaside today are more likely to seek out luxury in smaller boutique accommodation. That has forced many historic grand hotels to shift their offer to the other extreme of the market, catering to a reliable audience of budget visitors. Faced with economic reality, there is no room for snobbery, but how to ensure the maintenance and conservation of seafront landmarks when the margins are so tight?

A look at the condition of another Scarborough hotel, the Grade II*-listed Grand that looms over South Bay, shows the difficulty. Here, after years of underinvestment and the damage caused to the beautiful decoration of architect Cuthbert Brodrick by its adoption as an alternative cliff-face by local seagulls, the strain is showing.

Trading conditions have been negatively affected by a loss of seasonal workers post-Brexit, the rise of Airbnb and Britons’ willingness to get back onto planes after covid, not to mention the impression that seaside hotels have become the dumping ground for asylum seekers. Business-rate changes also threaten new problems: the valuation calculator suggests that the annual bill for the Clifton Hotel will treble from £54,000 to £169,500. There are hospitality relief schemes, but the figures are shocking.

Meanwhile, evidence from Newquay suggests even Cornwall’s surf centre is struggling to give holidaymakers what they want. Unfortunately, proposed solutions threaten to over-urbanise the cliff top and fundamentally change the character of the resort. The boarded-up Hotel Bristol awaits demolition to be replaced by a smaller hotel and 176 apartments, although the once elegant Hotel Victoria of 1899, famed for its antique lift that delivered guests direct to Great Western Beach below, may yet return from closure to its luxury era, albeit hemmed in by new blocks of enabling flats.

In Bournemouth, the Meyrick Estate is trying something different, taking back the leases of Victorian hotels on the East Cliff to convert them into community assets, retaining the established grain of seafront development in the process.

None of these buildings would meet the criteria for listing, so Athena will be interested to see if this more imaginative approach has the potential to enhance the seaside environment for residents and visitors alike.

This feature originally appeared in the February 11, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.