Let's Talk About Snow Polo
A weekend of glam & glitz in St. Moritz.
For those who’ve been following here for a while, you’ll know I hate the word “bucket list.” Instead, I have trips I dream of, experiences I want to have and places I want to go—and St. Moritz Snow Polo had long checked all those boxes.
For the past five years or so since I learned of the event (I was late to the party given this year was its 41st anniversary), I watched as my social feeds lit up with a fur mafia deploying on the Swiss Alps.
When I lived in NYC, I attended an autumn polo match in the Hamptons for a few consecutive years. I loved everything about the celebratory atmosphere—the palpable energy, the free-flowing champagne and the outrageous fashion, especially the hats. To see that winterized in St. Moritz, I knew I had to experience it; this year, the timing finally worked in my favor.
As I came to terms with the fact I was really going, I also came to terms with the fact I was going as an imposter one-percenter. What the f*@k was I going to wear?
“Honestly, it’s all about understated luxury,” my friend who’s attended in the past told me. Easy for him to say as someone in the haute couture world. I scrolled his and colleagues’ albums from past years only to bring up what I already knew; this is a fashion show on ice.
It was later confirmed by former polo player Malcom Borwick that the number one rule in polo is to look good, which apparently applies to players and patrons.
So, I opened my closet and pulled out any outfit with a morsel of fur or sequin. Somehow, I pieced together what I felt was a respectably over-the-top wardrobe. But immediately upon arrival, of course, I felt underdressed given the head-to-toe fur looks. I mean, even the dogs were wrapped up in Moncler puffers and cashmere sweaters.
The days revolved around two matches, each of four “chukkas”— the Persian word for a period of play, of which in polo comprises 7.5 minutes. On the frozen Lake St. Moritz, at 6,000-feet-above sea level, a brief halftime was built into every chukka in order to give the players and horses a chance to catch their breath. There were only about 120 minutes (or three matches) of playtime per day, which meant a lot of spare time for enjoying the extracurriculars set up by the sponsors.
Within the heated VIP tent, it was like a toy store for the glitterati.
Beluga Vodka was slinging breakfast martinis, OONA Caviar was dolling out pearly bumps of ossetra, Royal Salute whisky showcased its ninth edition of its exclusive liquid blended for the weekend. Pizza dough was twirled high, towers of macarons seemed self-replenishing and when lunch was served, a carving station of sous vide steak lit up alongside tables of local cheeses, charcuterie and pretty much any dish you could desire from flame-seared Swiss salmon to Zurich-style veal to chicken involtini and bacon-laced casarecce pasta. There was soup, there was spelt salad, there was roast beef and I was overwhelmed.
Outside, I figured there would be more seating areas but the few bleachers were reserved for various sponsors and VIPs; most spectators swarmed the wooden railings of the polo grounds. Many of the same sponsors featured stalls that were dotted around the sidelines, arranged with sheepskin-cloaked picnic loungers inviting you in for a drink or snack—at your own expense.
As a guest of private jet company Flexjet, one of the sponsors and playing teams (they placed second overall), I experienced both VIP and standing room. Even though the laps of luxury were in the heated VIP tent, I loved standing on the sidelines, the chill mountain area keeping my Perrier-Jouët perfectly chilled.
The sense of place was surreal: a quintessential snow-covered mountain backdrop, fluffy snow flurries and, when the sun peeked through the clouds, an alpine UV that warmed my skin like the rays of a balmy, spring day after a lingering winter. It was everything I loved about my NYC polo days but in alpine style with flower-adorned sun hats traded for fur cossacks.
The people watching was also magnificent. There were the regulars; simply enjoying and unfazed by the glitz and glam of it all. There were the out-of-town elitists ensuring their presence and outfits were known with selfies galore. There were kids in Mackage outwear and mini Moon Boots that will likely be outgrown in mere months.
As with most high society soirees, it seemed like no one was really there for the polo; they were there to be seen. So, if you didn’t have a clue what was going on in the game, you’d actually fit in.
Yet, if this event is on your radar, I’d highly suggest doing a brief read up on the history and basics of polo before attending, because it truly is a fascinating sport and even more so on a frozen lake.
Given I was there as an outsider looking in, I felt an air of conceit in following the four-on-four players, each assigned to a role like football, understanding the difference between the twisted maneuvers of backhanded versus nearside forward swings, and why one team started with a half point more.
“It’s their handicap—like golf,” I found myself explaining to a stranger who questioned the immediate crowd around her. She turned to me a few more times throughout that chukka and as I was able to answer a few of the questions, I realized how impressionable my two-hour polo clinic with Borwick proved.
I also realized that all those years attending polo in the Hamptons, I was just one of the aforementioned socialites there for the party—I had no idea what was happening in the match.
It felt like a full-circle moment to revisit the polo grounds for a more balanced experience; a patron not just trying to fit in but beyond the fur-lined fits, actually feeling like I fit in.
St. Moritz Highlights Off the Lake:
Enjoy a burger on The Music Deck at Paradiso.
Taste a local wine at the exceptionally quaint Bottega Mainente (I loved Terre d’autunno’s Swiss-Italian white blend of Souvignier Gris e Sauvignac).
Shop local caviar and coffee at the third-generation owned Glattfelder Caviar.
Eat an Engadin nut tart at Hanselmann.
Sit in front of the grand fireplace with a martini at Kulm Hotel.
Essential of the week: Samsonite Carry-On Spinner
I have tested A LOT of suitcases and I still come back to this Samsonite carry-on as my go to. I hate checking a bag as it kills time on either end of my airport experience; I like to get in and out as quickly as possible, so I’m usually carry-on only.
This bag is expandable so I always make sure I can zip it up as is before a trip, so that after some destination shopping, I always have that wiggle room for my souvenirs. I also love the company’s warranty; they’ll fix any component of the bag or replace it. I love the hard shell, four wheels and simple, sleek look.
Want more essentials? Browse them here.
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XO,