Hotel L’Apogée
Courchevel, France
Now this is living. A dapper monsieur, who looks a bit like the Milk Tray Man, is kneeling at my feet, buckling up the comfiest ski boots I have ever put on. Outside, another is waiting to hand me a pair of brand new skis and poles, as I hand back to him all the clobber I’ve decided I don’t want to carry — my thermals, scarf, goggles, room key. At the end of the day, a step-on conveyor belt will deliver me back to these monsieurs so I won’t have to walk up a small hill from the piste. Then one will carry away my skis, the other will remove my boots, spray them with perfume and put them on