It seems that every review of Brighton, Regency England’s south coast ‘Capital by the Sea’, begins with an obituary to George IV, who as Prince Regent was at least partly responsible for introducing the socialites of his day to the seashore and Brighton to them. Freedom from the constraints of social position (both high and low) developed in the permissive atmosphere of a resort town where people went for their health, for a rest, for entertainment, or merely for a change of scenery. It has been said that from George’s first visit ‘the amenities of Brighton, including the women he found there and the women he brought, captured his affection and a considerable part of his fortune’ (Hern 1967:45 sic). Since his time, Brighton has enjoyed a ‘raffish reputation’ attracting both those who, with money and time to spare, were in search of glamour, adventure, and excitement; and those who, in a quest for profit by one means or another, were in search of these ‘idle rich’. If ‘raffish’ appears in every description, it captures the contradictions of the place – tawdry and vulgar, yet flashy and rakish. But like the word ‘raffish’, both the place and the legends are all somehow dated. For most Westerners in the late twentieth century, it is no longer necessary to create marginal zones, such as the seaside was, for reckless enjoyment.