Hate figure Richard Spencer dreams of a 50-year US immigrant crackdown

Richard Spencer credits himself with coining the term alt-right.

The 38-year-old became a poster boy for white nationalists, but describes himself as an "identitarian".

The Southern Poverty Law Centre describe him as "a suit-and-tie version of the white supremacists of old, a kind of professional racist in khakis".

Mr Spencer told Sky News he now sees the movement as an "intellectual vanguard for President Trump".

But campaigners believe he has spread hate and are worried about a wider spike in racist and Islamophobic incidents.

Mr Spencer's followers are not just the forgotten white working-class. He has attracted millennials.

Buoyed by Donald Trump's election win and encouraged by his own increased profile, Mr Spencer is making a move on Washington DC.

He is setting up a hub for the alt-right in the genteel cobblestone streets of nearby Alexandria, a Virginian city littered with antique shops and cafes.

But it has been a turbulent start. After the inauguration, he was punched in the face live on TV.

In November, he addressed a crowd of white nationalists as they celebrated Mr Trump's victory with Nazi salutes.

Mr Trump condemned them, but Mr Spencer was undeterred.

He says Mr Trump became the unlikely "hero" of the alt-right movement and he believes they made him a different president.

When I ask him about Mr Trump's executive order on immigration, he tells me it was "weak and temporary" but "symbolically powerful".

His neighbours in Virginia are struggling with the symbolism and reality of living near him.

Shop owners have started putting up signs that read "No vacancy for hate".

Dylan Raycroft, who runs a chimney-sweeping business in Alexandria, told Sky News Mr Spencer's arrival has made him into a "political activist".

He does not challenge Mr Spencer's right to live in Alexandria, but he says he does want to fight the "violent and destructive nature of what he says".

Mr Spencer's new office is full of boxes ready to unpack. But a microphone and computer have made it out, ready for his daily podcasts.

He seems to enjoy the theatrics of recording them and operating in a space no longer confined to the obscure corners of the internet.

He seems to relish trying to intellectualise his ideology, verbally sparring with me on America's history and claiming Europeans are what made the country great. He has called for "peaceful ethnic cleansing" in the past.

When I push him again on Mr Trump's executive order, he tells me his vision is for a 50-year moratorium on immigration to the United States.

He says he is making headway in the capital, meeting academics and political figures for off-the-record chats.

But this is not a man with an ear to the White House, however much he thinks his movement may have done to put Mr Trump in office.

That movement is still relatively small and split on how extreme it wants to be and how willing it is to back Mr Trump.

Mr Spencer insists: "This isn't 15 minutes of fame. We'll never exit the scene."

But that doesn't necessarily mean any more doors will be opened.