Posts Tagged ‘apres ski


Apres Aspen

I went to Aspen and did not get to experience apres ski. Not only that, but I have never experienced apres ski. If you think this is pathetic, you’re not the only one…I can’t believe that there is a pre-Happy Hour tradition involving melted cheese and shellfish platters and sparkling wine and hot chocolate, and that no one has alerted me before. It’s true I don’t ski and almost never even see the snow, but who cares? I’m sure I could do apres ski like a pro.

 Anyway this is not the point. The point is, you want to know about my personal life, which truth to tell has been fairly uneventful in the past few weeks. I went to Miami mid-month and had a regrettable evening out with a South American jai alai player who spoke no English and had the mental capacity of a bluebottle fly. Earlier that evening I’d been hanging with some absolutely lovely young Miami ladies, and all I can say is, their debauched take-no-prisoners attitude toward the male gender really rubbed off on me.

We stopped by the new Table 8 in order to say hello to Fred the dating columnist from the Miami Herald. He  probably thought I was going to stay longer than 5 minutes–as did I, as did I–but you know, sometimes you just have to follow the mojito trail where it leads you. Which happened to be right out of the club.

 Anyway back to this weekend. Aspen. So lovely! Mountains, snow, those little Snowmass lifts they call Skittles b/c of their shiny colors… It was so picturesque, words fail me…

Aspen really is an excellent place to be unmarried, what with its mix of locals (“they’ll be super nice to you, they’ll lay you, never call you again, but you know where to find ’em next year,”as one girl summed up), wealthy and debauched playboys of all ages (mainly too old to be ‘boys’ but don’t tell them that), burned-out Hollywood producers and yummy European and American students working the ski season. The bars seem to be a mixture of all the above–the bar at the Little Nell is that and then some. Dogs are allowed in the main room and even have their own menu. So, too, are entire groups of 60-something women in bikinis…in 40-degree weather, in March.

A lot of Aspen life–like the retiree bikins and the proliferation of married men who’ve temporarily ‘misplaced’ their wedding bands–is fun to visit, but def wouldn’t want to live in the middle of it. If you’re a skiier, a mountain person, or you like a super-concentrated social scene that’s basically “The Coal Miners’ Daughter” meets “Dynasty” meets “Fast Company”…well I mean you probably already hit this place every year so why am I even telling you?

Probably ’cause it was my first time and I still have much to process, although none of it involving a boy b/c I was good and responsible, and therefore ended up 2 nights alone in a gorgeous mountain-facing condo that could easily fit 5 people. If I’d have been on my Aspen game I would have picked up a seasonal worker…but the Miami fiasco has sorta ruined me for seasonals.

September 2019
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