Aspen’s architecture and heritage are largely preserved, with some unfortunate exceptions. But then again, it is hard to argue that Aspen’s original township from the mining days really was some sort of World Heritage site worth saving. I think the city has done a good job of saving the best of the old with thoughtful restoration. Megève on the other hand is a much older village, and for the most part, the Megèvans have done a better job than any other Alpine ski village at preserving the old warm buildings and charm. That said, both Aspen and Megève are in danger of being what I call “mall-ified,” my term for when a beautiful resort town attracts too much attention and the landlords push out the mom-and-pop shops in favor of the global luxury brands. Part of what made Aspen and Megève fun for girls like me growing up there was that we could shop for clothes and accessories that you could not find just as easily at a shopping mall in New Jersey, Beijing, or Dubai.
One of the clichés about Aspen is that it is all about money and glitz, but there is a deeply rooted more down-to-earth community that emerges in the summer to celebrate the arts but is also around in winter, if you know where to be (and more importantly, where not to be).
The same is true of Megève, where my most cherished experiences are still with the “old guard” of the town, be they Rothschilds or farmers. On my last day there, I skied with Philippe Laffont, the best instructor on the mountain, who taught me how to ski as a child but is now a close friend. That night, I had a facial and massage in my home from Valerie, who used to work at the Fermes de Marie but now has her own business, and again whom I like to talk to as a friend as much as to enjoy her excellent services. I finished the weekend having aperitifs, fromages, saucisson, and excellent Bordeaux with my father at home, followed by a stroll down the street to one of the oldest chalets in the village still owned by a fascinating local couple that have been in Megève for decades. He is the descendant of one of the great French Impressionist painters, and she comes from a long line of French gourmands. Sitting in her kitchen as she put the finishing touches on a feast (for only five of us) of blanquette de veau and poulet fermier with all the fresh local side dishes, she showed me her first edition of a cooking and dinner menus guide book penned by King Louis XIII’s chef du cuisine, which has been in her family since close to the book’s printing in 1734.
As much as I love Aspen, it is just unthinkable for a weekend in Aspen to end in such a way. But does that make Megève better than Aspen? Certainly not. There are days in Aspen just as good…but just different. Long live Aspen, and vivre Megève aussi!
