Hello from… Aspen in summertime! Home to snow-speckled peaks, a rotating roster of cultural and ideas festivals, and more private jets than commercial flights.
Where I’m staying… The White Elephant Aspen, which opened in June. From the same owners as the well-established White Elephant Nantucket and 6-y/o White Elephant Palm Beach, it’s Aspen’s only all-suite hotel, with 34 capacious rooms housed in a curved modern shell of a building with a small pool and large art collection sourced in part from nearby Anderson Ranch (more on which later). Also, notably, one of the most comfortable hotel beds I’ve ever passed out on (guests allegedly buy their custom mattresses). This decorous new arrival in a town known for excess is a 3-minute walk from the center (across the street from The Mollie, which vibes more millennial), and offers bikes as well as 6 gleaming new BMWs to borrow for day trips, so you don’t need to rent a car.
The most fun things we did… I learned to ski in Aspen many moons ago—after its hippie and gonzo-journalism phase but pre-Gucci—and hadn’t been back since. While I knew that Aspen had evolved into a kind of Rodeo Drive of the Rockies, I was not fully prepared for the scene of men in Rolex Submariners and women with Dyson-twirled shiny locks cosplaying in cowboy hats and Luccheses (Kemo Sabe is ground zero for wardrobe supply).
But Aspen, whose airspace sees more private jets than commercial flights, still has the soul of a 19th-century silver mining town surrounded by some of Earth’s most gobsmacking natural scenery, around which most activities are built. One morning, we took a gorgeous hike to Glacier Lake in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness area with a guide from Blazing Adventures, who drove us up to the trail head (most visitors take the free(!) public bus as very few public parking permits are granted). Threading through the shimmering silver Aspens and high-altitude meadows to emerge by a mountain-framed opal lake was incredible—two IRL screen-saver images in one outing.
Aspen is, of course, home to the legendary Aspen Institute, which was founded in 1949 by Chicago industrialist Walter Paepcke and his wife Elizabeth, who invited celebrated thinkers to Aspen to reflect on humanist values in the wake of WWII. The 40-acre property has now become a cultural mecca and hosts an annual roster of events, including the Aspen Ideas Festival in June and the Aspen Music Festival and School, which runs June through August. In July, the campus was full of musicians hauling bulky instrument cases and then warming up for the Dvořák piece they were performing later in the music tent (many of the performances are free and rarely more than ~$50—pretty great for world-class music—or try the hack of sitting just outside the music tent on a blanket with some wine and cheese!). The grounds are still dotted with the original Bauhaus-inspired designs of Austrian artist Herbert Bayer, who the Paepckes hired to build the dormitories and other buildings—I loved that these have been left in pretty much their original state, most without AC (for Aspen on a budget, you can stay at what is perhaps generously called the Aspen Meadows Resort when there’s no festival going on!), and I appreciated the likewise humble original Buckminster Fuller geodesic dome, now used for yoga and sound baths. Our tour was via the White Elephant’s concierge, or you can arrange your own through the Resnick Center for Herbert Bayer Studies—3x/weekly free tours of the Bayer Center (a museum that was closed for our visit) and 2x/month campus tours over the summer.
Another time, we rode the Silver Queen gondola to the top of Aspen Mountain (“Ajax,” to locals), where on Sundays there’s live bluegrass band and people chilling drinking beers and spritzes in clusters of red Adirondack chairs, while dogs and kids range freely. (Aspen is supposedly trod by more dogs than children.)
A real highlight of our stay was a visit to Anderson Ranch. I’d never heard of this nonprofit arts retreat, started in 1966 by ceramicist Paul Soldner on a former sheep ranch near Snowmass. They host summer workshops and artist residencies for all ages and levels in photography, ceramics, painting, sculpture, woodworking, and digital fabrication, and the motley wooden cabins are abuzz with industrious artisans on pottery wheels and behind saws. There’s an on-site sculpture garden open to the public, and bookable tours and lectures by prominent artists (don’t miss the lovely gift shop full of students’ work—50 of the art pieces at the White Elephant are from here). I dream of coming back for a stay in my silver ponytail years to throw some pots or take a print photography workshop.
Another highlight: the shopping! More on that below.
The best meal I had… I made a bee-line from the airport to Clark’s Oyster Bar, which makes the best tuna melt west of the Mississippi, and caught a late crowd lunching on crisp rosé with amazingly fresh seafood, flown in over the mountains daily. Our most memorable meal was, unexpectedly, at Duemani, which has a bit of a slick white Miami Beach vibe with plasma-screen art (reserve a table outside), but the Mediterranean menu was spectacular, featuring excellent shrimp in za’atar butter, a whole grilled branzino, and an off-menu paella. I braved the crowds at the popular Meat & Cheese grocer-café (great place for picnic provisions) for a refreshing kombucha, and had some melt-in-your-mouth mountain elk carpaccio and wagyu ribeye at PARC. And the food at the new Lola 41 at the White Elephant—built around world cuisines from countries on the 41st parallel—was a delicious feast, with worlds-collide mixes like crab Rangoon, Korean beef bulgogi, and mac n’ cheese (the 41st cuts from CA to MA).
Also, a Stetson hat tip to the J-Bar at the Auberge Hotel Jerome, which was filled with a fun and lively crowd while I downed my Independence Pass Ale, and the inevitable Sant Ambroeus was a lovely spot for a night cap with a friend. But pace yourself on the booze on Day 1, as you’re at nearly 8,000 feet and altitude sickness is real! (The White Elephant helpfully placed Boost oxygen canisters in the room.)
The watering hole I did not have time for but desperately wanted to get to: Woody Creek Tavern, a locals’ joint (and former Hunter S. Thomson haunt) best arrived at by bike.
Books I read… No time to read, but I was inspired to finally download Einstein: His Life and Universe by biographer Walter Isaacson, who ran the Aspen Institute for years.
Playlist on repeat… Rugged mountain, campfire-at-dusk-style music: CSNY, The Lumineers, John Denver, Creedence, Kruangbin on Spotify Radio during my morning walks on the Rio Grande trail.
What I packed (and shopped for)… Aspen in summer is the perfect temperature—high 50s at night and 70s by day, so you’ll want to layer up. It’s also dressier than any mountain town I’ve been to, including Telluride, but still Western-inflected; I did fine in my Frank & Eileen denim button down, 90s classic white jeans from Banana Republic and Oliver Spencer indigo cotton jacket that lands practically between a chore coat and a blazer. For hiking, I eschewed the ubiquitous female uniform of Alo Yoga sets for more comfortable vintage Woolrich shorts and new fave J Crew linen tees. (No joke, several women were hiking in matching sets!)
This is a good place to say that while I steered very clear of the luxury boutiques, from Dior to Moncler—and I’ll lump Kemo Sabe in here, whose hats start at $425—I did hit up some stellar second-hand shops (because… Aspenites’ closets!). Alderfer Antiques, a rambling structure stuffed with vintage Navajo blankets and Westernwear, also carried a few alluring racks of vintage Ralph Lauren tweed pants and jackets, but nothing fit. I did better at The Little Bird, more of a high-end consignment shop, where I picked up a pair of Veronica Beard linen trousers that seemed made for me, for $150. And at the Aspen Thrift Shop, which can be hit or miss, I came away with a pair of blue suede Tod’s driving shoes for $53! And they donate all the money to charity so it’s double-plus good.
A thing or two I learned… I’m not sure how I never knew that a grove of Aspen trees is actually one single organism, as they reproduce via their root system rather than seeds—which is why they all change color nearly in unison. And as a skier, I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t realize that nearly all ski resorts are north-facing, as the lack of direct sun preserves the snow. Duh!
The best thing I’m bringing home… A pair of alpine-printed satin Petite Plume PJs from the White Elephant gift shop that are great for travel.
And also! Don’t miss our much more extensive Aspen List for winter!
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.