What Does Grenfell Tower Look Like Now

Let’s be honest: when you hear “Grenfell Tower,” you probably picture that horrifying image from 2017—a blackened, skeletal torch against the London sky. You might expect it’s still a ghostly, cordoned-off monument to tragedy, guarded by grumpy men in hi-vis jackets. Well, surprise! It’s actually wrapped in a giant, shimmering white shroud that looks like the world’s most aggressive wedding dress. Think of it as London’s biggest, saddest, and yet somehow most fashionable piece of winter knitwear.

This isn’t your average dust sheet. We’re talking a custom-engineered, fire-resistant, 3D-printed “protective scaffold wrap” that cost a jaw-dropping £3.5 million. That’s more than some people’s lifetime salary for a giant coat. It even has a name: the “public realm and façade instability mitigation structure.” Roll that off your tongue at a dinner party—instant conversation killer.

The Tower’s New Look: Industrial Chic Meets Debenhams Mannequin

So, what does it actually look like in 2024? Imagine a colossal, ghostly white column covered in a thick, technical fabric, held up by a metal skeleton. It’s like someone shrink-wrapped a skyscraper for the apocalypse. The wrap has hundreds of tiny louvres—little slits—to let in air and light, so the building can breathe like a very, very sad 60-meter-long dragon.

From a distance, it’s almost pretty—a stark, minimalist sculpture against the pastel-colored roofs of North Kensington. Up close? It’s a stark reminder that the building is still actively dangerous. Engineers are terrified that chunks of concrete might just decide to take a dive. The wrap isn’t for fashion; it’s to catch falling debris that could, you know, kill a tourist taking a selfie.

Inside the Ghost: It’s Not a Labyrinth, It’s a Demolition Ballet

Behind that pristine white curtain, the tower is being painstakingly dismantled, floor by floor. The plan is to literally take it apart like a very fragile, 24-story Lego set—backwards, from the top down. They’re using giant robotic arms and hydraulic crushers to bite off chunks of concrete, and every single piece is checked for forensic evidence (and asbestos).

Here’s a surprising fact: over 70% of the building’s materials are being recycled. The wreckage isn’t going to a landfill; it’s being crushed into aggregate for new roads or poured into foundations for new social housing. It’s a grimly poetic example of urban alchemy—turning a monument to failure into the gravel for a fresh start. They even tried to give the steel to art students, but most just sketched it.

Grenfell Tower now: Building is still eerily wrapped up seven years

The Actual State of the Site (Not Just the Wrap)

If you walk past the site today, you’ll see a huge, branded hoarding covered in local artwork and messages of "Together We Rebuild." Behind it, it’s a controlled chaos of hard hats, excavators, and very serious men with clipboards. The tower itself is currently about 12 storeys high—they’ve already lopped off the top half. It’s like watching a giant, very slow-motion haircut for a building that didn’t ask for one.

The base is filled with 600 tonnes of temporary “counterweight” concrete to stop the remaining structure from tipping over. Yes, the tower is literally held upright by giant lumps of rock, like a tipsy uncle propped up by a sofa cushion. If you see a pigeon land on the roof, it could theoretically cause a minor engineering crisis—okay, not true, but you get the scale of the wobbles.

The Neighbors’ Experience: Living with a Ghost

For the residents who live in the adjacent buildings (many of whom survived the fire), life is a bizarre routine. Every morning they wake up to the sound of surgical cutting saws and the sight of the tower slowly vanishing. One local told me it’s like living next to a broken elevator that’s always being fixed—except the elevator killed 72 people. The gallows humor in the area is real, and frankly, it’s how they cope.

Watch Grenfell: Uncovered | Netflix Official Site

There’s a community garden right next to the hoarding that’s thriving. Pink roses and lavender bloom just meters from where bulldozers gnaw at the tower’s ankles. It’s a strange contrast: life performing a defiant ballet next to death’s scaffolding. And yes, a local Instagram influencer tried to do a “maternity shoot” with the wrap as a backdrop. The internet was not kind.

The Big Finish: When Will It All Be Over?

Originally, they hoped to have the tower down by 2026. Surprise: it’s now pushed to 2027 because, naturally, they found more asbestos and a few hidden structural surprises. It turns out taking apart a building built by the lowest bidder in the 1970s is a bit like playing Jenga with explosives. The final cost for demolition alone? Over £100 million. That’s roughly the GDP of a small island nation.

Once it’s gone, the site will become a memorial and green space. People debate whether it should be a park, a sculpture, or just a giant, silent blank spot. One activist suggested a giant rubber playground ball to symbolize the lives lost that could have been saved. It didn’t get through committee, but you have to admire the spirit.

So, what does Grenfell Tower look like now? It looks like a ghost wearing a spacesuit. It’s a building that is simultaneously disappearing and staying put, a white lie of progress wrapped around a black truth. If you want to see it, go now—before it’s just a memory and a very expensive bit of gravel. And don’t forget to bring a flower for the garden, maybe a dark sense of humor, and definitely not a ring light.