There’s a certain magic in seeing a place you’ve always known for one thing reinvent itself completely – without losing the part you loved. For most of my life in the UK, Battersea Power Station was a backdrop: a hulking icon of brick and steel, its four chimneys punctuating the skyline, famous for generating a fifth of London’s electricity in its heyday and, later, for floating a pink pig on the cover of a Pink Floyd album.

For years after it shut down in 1983, it stood silent, its future a carousel of ambitious plans and dashed hopes. Then came a restoration project so audacious it sounded almost improbable: not just preserving the building, but transforming its 42 acres into a new riverside neighbourhood of homes, flagship boutiques, restaurants, cultural venues, a park, and even its own Northern Line station.

I’d seen the headlines, and I’d walked the river path to look at it from the outside. But I hadn’t experienced it properly until a summer evening when I came to try two of its standout attractions: Lift 109, a glass elevator that takes you to the top of one of those famous chimneys, and dinner at Wright Brothers, a seafood restaurant that serves luxury with a conscience.

So let’s spend an evening together at Battersea Power Station…

Arriving at Battersea Power Station in early evening light feels almost cinematic. The brickwork glows a deep, warm red; the sheer scale of it is startling up close. Around it, the neighbourhood hums – couples with ice-cream wander the reopened riverfront, boats drift past on the Thames, and friends spill out of restaurants in Circus West Village. It’s lively but not chaotic, like it’s already settled into being part of the city’s fabric.

One thing I love is the variety of shops, of restaurants, of activities, of people – both outside and in. You’ll pass residents heading home with shopping bags, visitors stopping for sunset selfies, and local families staking out picnic spots in the park. Under the railway bridge, I stopped at a small coffee pop-up, the ‘Feel Good Bakery’ that caught my eye – not just for the rich aroma of freshly ground beans, but for its mission. This social enterprise empowers young people facing employment barriers with training programmes, while funding meals for disadvantaged children with every cup sold. It’s a small detail, but it says a lot about how the area’s new life is being tied back to the people around it.

Inside the Power Station, the industrial past is everywhere – the vast Turbine Halls, the restored control rooms, the sheer height and openness of the space. But so is the present: sleek shopfronts for Ralph Lauren and Le Labo, diners perched over cocktails, visitors craning their necks at the architecture. This interplay of old and new is what makes it more than just another glossy redevelopment.

Into the chimney

Lift 109 begins with a small exhibition about the building’s history and transformation. I’d expected a quick skim before the main event, but I found myself lingering. Old footage of the turbines in motion, interactive displays explaining the building’s engineering, and photographs of the meticulous work to dismantle and rebuild the chimneys to their exact original specifications. It adds weight to what you’re about to do.

Then you step into the glass lift itself and begin to climb inside the north-west chimney. The curved concrete walls slide past in quiet rhythm until – suddenly – you break into open air. London unfurls in every direction: the Thames looping away in soft evening light, the Shard gleaming in the distance, the London Eye turning slowly.

It’s not the tallest viewpoint in the city, but it’s one of the most distinctive. Partly for the novelty of being inside a chimney, partly because the view feels slightly apart from the usual tourist panoramas – a fresh angle on a city you think you know. Up here, the city feels quieter, as if you’ve hit pause.

Dinner with the River Breeze

Back on the ground, I wandered towards Circus West Village, located on the riverfront next to the Power Station, and home to a mix of restaurants, wine bars, shops, fitness and leisure venues. On warm evenings, glasses catch the last light, music drifts from terraces, and the air carries hints of grilled fish and fresh herbs from open kitchens.

Wright Brothers sits here in a prime position, its terrace open to the river breezes. This is seafood with provenance: the restaurant works directly with small-scale British fishing boats, buys at Brixham Market in Devon, and can tell you exactly which vessel brought in your lobster. Pot-caught crab, line-caught wild sea bass, rope-grown mussels – every choice is low-impact and carefully vetted against the Marine Conservation Society’s Good Fish Guide. It’s sustainability you can actually taste in the freshness of the plate in front of you.

I ordered champagne to start (because if you’re eating seafood by the river on a summer evening, why wouldn’t you?) and later a crisp white wine that slipped perfectly into place alongside what came next.

The roasted seafood platter was the centrepiece, a generous sweep of lobster, scallops, prawns, and mussels, all kissed by the heat of the grill until the edges caramelised and the sweetness of the meat deepened. The ceviche was bright and sharp, the citrus cutting through the richness like sunlight through water.

Sides were simple but flawless: tenderstem broccoli with a hint of char, golden fries that were light enough to keep eating without guilt, and bread with butter that needed nothing else.

There’s a certain kind of luxury in knowing where your food has come from, that it’s been caught in a way that doesn’t strip the seas bare. Here, it’s not an afterthought or a marketing line – it’s the whole foundation.

Why it works

Battersea Power Station could easily have become a sterile monument to redevelopment. Instead, it’s found balance: indulgence without excess, style without sterility. From the green roofs and walls that help support biodiversity, to the electric vehicle charging points, to the public parkland and riverside walkway, the environmental commitments are built into the bones of the place. Even the Lift 109 experience, as thrilling as it is, doubles as an educational space, telling the story of the building’s past and its new role in the city.

And then there’s the intangible part – the way the history has been left visible. The chimneys were rebuilt to their original 1930s and 1950s designs using the same construction methods, the industrial fittings and brickwork were kept intact where possible, the a sense that you are in a place that has lived many lives.

Final thoughts

If your evening isn’t over after dessert, Battersea Power Station offers plenty to keep you in its orbit. Sip a martini under the original dials in Control Room B, once the nerve centre powering London. Slip into art’otel’s skyline infinity pool before dinner, or start your day here with a personalised fragrance from Le Labo, tailored in-store. The luxury here isn’t loud – it’s in the curation, the small moments that make you feel part of something considered.

For me, when the sky had finally shifted from pale blue to inky black, I wandered back along the river. The chimneys were lit, their white flanks luminous against a navy sky. The Thames caught their reflection in long ribbons of light; music from a nearby bar mingled with the river breeze.

It’s easy, in London, to be cynical about big redevelopments – too shiny, too soulless, too much of a break from the past. Battersea Power Station has sidestepped that. It feels like a place that has not only found its second life, but one that’s thriving on its terms.

Here, you can sip champagne after watching the sunset from inside a chimney, knowing the seafood on your plate came from waters still teeming with life. It’s not just about what you see or taste – it’s about feeling, for an evening, part of a London story that’s still being written.

W: Battersea Power Station ; Lift 109; The Wright Brothers

Written by Emma Blunt for Luxuria Lifestyle International