The Gods Know Where
Haven’t been to Mount Olympus yet? Come, I’ll point the way…
Photo Credits: La Folie Douce
Have you ever stepped into a place where all your senses are overtaken at once, where the air is charged, and the altitude, pulse of the crowd, and taste of champagne all converge so impeccably that indulgence itself becomes mythical?
We have.
Somewhere between snow and sky, Mount Olympus relocated and now answers to another name.
Welcome to:
La Folie Douce
Literally translated, it is “The Sweet Folly.” The creators of La Folie Douce describe it as “the perfect spot to enjoy the sun and absorb some maximum human energy.” But “human” energy begs to be corrected, because here it feels anything but mortal. Anyone who steps foot into La Folie Douce is within a flash transported into the company of the Gods.
It may be 38°F, and you may be amid the misty snowy Alps, but LFD cloaks you in sunny hedonism. It urges you to seize the moment’s offerings. Like the Greek Deities, you’ll indulge in the fruits of Divinity. And any and all shadows of life’s limitations, unsatisfied hungers and badgering chagrins shall vanish completely into the crisp Alpine air.
A pot of Reblochon fondue, inhabited by gushing morel mushrooms, is swiftly cooled by goblets of wine which arrive via wine gondola-poured from double-magnum bottles of Moët & Chandon and Veuve Clicquot.
In an apres-ski so perfectly and passionately orchestrated, La Folie Douce raises not only the image of the “apres-ski,” but of what we define as free, exhilarating, passionate, revelrous connection.
We were served (among other things) voluptuous Reblochon fondue inhabited by gorgeous, gargantuan, gushingly spongy morel mushrooms. This pot of Gastronautical gold, by the way, amounted to infinitely more than what I could fit on my 2-pronged fork or convey in this post. We cooled our lustful palates with goblets of wine that arrived via wine gondola and poured forth from double magnum bottles of Moet & Chandon and Veuve Clicquot.
Here, the food, the wine, were far more titillating and soul-warming than all the fussiness and extravagance often associated with strains of “foodieism.” The same way good food and good wine can nourish our minds and souls and bodies, so too does La Folie Douce, only La Folie Douce combines these necessary comforts with music and spectacle and altitude and instant thumping soulful camaraderie. Behold a vision of us as momentary Deities:
We can’t deny the innate glamor and long-unassailable preeminence of French cuisine (or French anything), but Courchevel (and La Folie Douce) offer more. More, for those hungry for a different—a celestial, a sublime—experience. I offer another portrait of this “spot” in the world, and for those of us who’ve been there, a consolation on a dreary, vapid and devastatingly mortal day.
SPIRITUAL BUT NOT RELIGIOUS