by I should consider myself lucky: when I graduated, I landed right at the bottom of the ladder climbing steadily towards my dream job. A flourishing career did little to quell the worms of jealousy that arose when I talked to friends drifting around the various gap years though. I grew up eagerly anticipating this procedure – my sights set firmly on the snow-capped mountains – but with my adult life fast-forwarding, I believed the ship had sailed.
Last year, however, chance and circumstance aligned, giving me another bite at the cherry of the season. With less than a month’s notice, I moved to France to make my ski season dreams come true. Here’s what I learned about life in the mountains behind closed doors.
1. Work hard, play harder
Is there anything more hideous than someone who can barely eat (season wages are still around £100 a week), having poured vintage Bollinger for a hot tub full of multi-millionaires? Having seen it, in properties costing over £150,000 a week, I’m starting to think not. Within weeks of my arrival, I saw that the staff were often drinking and taking drugs during shifts, to cope with the pressure of providing such a demanding service. The guests were not more naive to this debauchery, and wilder people actively encouraged it.
One chalet girl told me that she hides her work uniform in one of the kitchen cupboards. This enables her to party all night and then go straight into serving breakfast the next morning, before returning home to sleep when her guests head up the mountain. She argued that it’s much less painful to make eggs benedict while they’re still on a truck than with a deadly hangover. One friend, who we nicknamed Harry Potter, made himself a small bed under the stairs, so he wouldn’t have to walk back to his accommodation after nights out.
Maximizing recovery time is critical, especially when guests have borderline insane expectations. One group requested that a particular variety of strawberries be provided for breakfast. A hapless driver had to drive nine hours to collect them from a supplier in the south of France.
2. Relationships are catalyzed
Across the globe, dating apps offer almost instant access to anyone single or social, but the catchment area in my small alpine town is limited by the mountains themselves – a few swipes and it’s game over.
These new relationships strengthen and develop during the short season at an enhanced pace – I’m always amazed at how guests, who are here for just one week, squeeze in time for dalliances.
A few weeks into my adventure, four guys from the city came to visit for a vacation. Despite their long-term relationships back in London, they all got involved with other women. Much to the amusement of the rest of us, two of these newly-acquired flings had one member of the corner group in the same après bar.
Do relationships born in the mountains last? Maybe it’s too early for me to say definitively, so I go back to my English ski confidant (let’s call him…) David and his expertise: no, generally they don’t.
3. There is a different hierarchy in place
In the mountains, a different social order applies – the ski instructors are kings, the ski patrols are princes, the bands that perform at night are court jesters, and the unscaling are peasants.
Certain fashionable resorts attract crowds who want to be seen rather than skied – they reach the restaurants so elegantly on foot, they look like they’ve fallen from the pages of Tatler. In everyday life, these people have high status, wealth and power, flowing in furs and diamonds. From now on they are just wimps.
One evening I saw one of my favorite pop stars drinking shots at a bar, half way down a black graded piste. I love his music, but I lost all respect for him when I realized he had taken the car lift there and back.
To some extent, however, money will always equal power. Another group, who arrived by helicopter, confided in me over champagne and oysters that their concierge offered to provide, even though they were accompanied by their wives and girlfriends. Another concierge worker I spoke to was traumatized as he recounted the night he was asked to call a guest’s boyfriend and dump him. Apparently, she wanted to enjoy the evening and couldn’t face the phone call herself.
4. Misbehavior is normalized
Is it the height, the adrenaline or the GLORY of the mountains? Perhaps this other winter wonderland allows people to behave differently than they would at home. The stories of all-night parties that end up in the trash have become so frequent that I pay less attention to them as the season progresses.
Another ski instructor I once dated told me that he regularly has women pocketing their hotel room key cards or inquiring about the cost of an overnight lesson. I asked David if this had happened to him: “Not yet,” he replied, looking a little disappointed.
At the younger end of the spectrum, I encountered a group of men in their thirties, all with high-paying and important jobs back in the UK, doing parkour in the middle of the night, in freezing temperatures. I stood in silence watching them, in turn, run on a huge pile of snow left by the piste bashers, before collapsing.
5. The economy is different – but it’s worth it
During my time here, I have met seasoners of all ages – from teenagers to over 70s. The main horror of this wonderful world is that the accommodation for many people is, to be honest, bleak and the economics are not the same. If your job doesn’t include accommodation and food, you’ll struggle – a box of eggs costs around £3.80 in Alpine supermarkets.
A pack of nannies chirpily told me that they have crammed six people into a room to share one tiny bathroom. I think their average age was 23. They didn’t seem too worried – most young people can only survive on a pay rise from Mum and Dad’s bank – and their youthful optimism is admirable.
My slight maturity was a significant advantage – emotionally and financially. If you can do it well, these may be some of the greatest months of your life.
For the young, it is chaos, encouraged by stressful bosses, heartbreak and bank balance pressure to bankruptcy. But I would put my heated ski gloves on them coming back next year. My sincere apologies to my savings, I think I might as well.
