My cake mix is in the oven. Eggs are gently frying on the stove. Duck legs are marinating. It’s barely 9am and breakfast, dinner and afternoon tea are already beginning to feel – just about – under control.
Am I working in the high-pressure kitchen of a Michelin-starred restaurant, prepping for the day ahead? Or getting ready for service at a five-star hotel?
No. I’m up 5,000ft, surrounded by the snowy French Alps in the popular resort of Les Arcs, learning how to be a chalet girl for a week under the wing of tour operator Ski Beat.
Although, after donning my apron, the first thing I learn is that the term ‘chalet host’ is the more common description in today’s politically correct world.
For women in their 20s, like me, however, the words chalet girl will likely bring to mind the 2011 cult-classic romcom of the same name starring Felicity Jones and Noughties heart-throb Ed Westwick.
It is, as writer Tom Williams no less describes to me, a familiar tale of ‘boy meets girl’, but told within the ‘peculiarly British’ world of hosted chalet holidays – about which so many seem to be fascinated.
Over the course of the film, the protagonists subsist on booze-fuelled sleepless nights while finding love in all forms – from aristocratic guests to European skiing instructors.
Even if you’d never so much as hit the dry slopes, the plot paints a picture of mountain life romantic enough to tempt young women across the country to buy a one-way ticket to the Alps, squeeze into ski boots and try out the lifestyle for themselves.
But between six-day work weeks, limited time off and cramped accommodation, is the reality as rosy (or boozy!) as the film suggests? I’m here to find out.
Travel writer Genie Harrison headed to the French Alps to find out what it’s like to be a chalet girl
She learnt all of her chalet girl skills in the popular resort of Les Arcs, pictured
‘Chalet girling’ dates from the 1960s, when well-to-do British families could no longer afford to bring their live-in help on annual Alpine holidays to resorts such as Val d’Isere and Courchevel in France, and Zermatt and Verbier in Switzerland.
The result was, for them, frankly terrifying: no one to cook, turn down beds and serve afternoon tea – the latter a non-negotiable after a day spent pounding the pistes.
Step forward the chalet girl, a much-needed solution to one of high society’s most pressing issues of the time.
In the early days, chalet girls were almost invariably posh – Sophie, the Duchess of Edinburgh, even gave the job a whirl.
An ability to ski was pretty much a necessity, and this was a time before budget flights, let alone budget ski holidays.
While there are still plenty of Brits both working and partying in the mountains, the ramifications of Brexit have, inevitably, diversified the workforce today.
My co-host, for example, is Athina, a half-Greek, half-Australian 24-year-old in possession of that all-important European passport.
Cut from a very different cloth from chalet girls of yore, Athina ditched her hospitality jobs back home in Athens for a chance to live in the Alps and try winter sports.
It’s her second season in Les Arcs with Ski Beat, and it quickly becomes clear why she’s been chosen to show me the ropes.
While the ramifications of Brexit have certainly changed the landscape of the workforce up in the Alps, Genie met plenty of other Brits during her time in Les Arcs
Genie did everything from making salads for guests to baking cakes
Despite my occasionally hopeless best efforts – including somehow pouring tea down an electric plug socket (requiring a technician to repair it) and miscounting the salads one evening (not enough to go around) – she remains unflappable.
As a ‘returner’, Athina is trusted to look after our whole chalet, Tetras Lyre, which sleeps 12 at full capacity. Luckily, there are a mere eight mouths to feed this week.
But, nonetheless, she is tasked with providing a cooked breakfast, afternoon tea and a three-course meal every day of our visit except Wednesday – her precious day off.
‘I try to do as much prep as possible in the morning,’ Athina explains on our first day as she defrosts pork tenderloin for dinner while simultaneously whisking eggs and crisping hash browns in the oven.
This might be the French Alps, but the appetites are most certainly British. There are murmurs of approval when HP sauce appears on the breakfast table.
As guests start emerging clad in thermals for the day ahead, Athina turns her attention to the carrot cake for afternoon tea – often a highlight of these holidays.
Over the course of the week, I do more baking than ever in my life, helping prepare banana bread, flapjacks and cookies.
Our duties extend beyond the kitchen, though.
After a long day of hard work, Genie found herself partying until the early hours of the morning before serving up breakfast at 7am
Tuesday is cleaning day and, while the guests are honing their techniques on the pistes, I’m mastering another skill with 21-year-old ‘support host’ Sean from Sheffield – scrubbing toilets.
‘You’d be surprised at how bad they can get,’ he says, darkly, as we tackle a particularly dreadful bowl.
If chalet life is luxurious for guests – Tetras Lyre has ski-in, ski-out access as well as a hot tub and sauna for post-slope relaxation – it’s a different story for staff.
‘We essentially share a three-bed apartment between ten of us,’ Sean explains. ‘And there are only two bathrooms. It’s a nightmare.’
I’m also intrigued about romance, which has (perhaps inevitably) transpired between two of the current hosting team.
‘They share a single bed every night,’ Athina explains. ‘But they have a roommate, so it’s tricky.’ And the guests themselves? ‘Most are fine,’ says one of the chalet hosts I meet from another company. ‘But you do occasionally get some right tw*ts.’
One couple, he recalls, expected Michelin star-quality food, and began to ignore him completely when this wasn’t the service provided.
‘Others are keen to get you involved,’ he adds. ‘My guests last night made me down tons of red wine.’
Genie admitted she did ‘more baking than ever in my life’ during her week as a chalet girl
But guest/host involvement often goes further than drinking games, it seems. One host I meet, also not from Ski Beat, confesses getting to know one of her guests a little too well – sneaking off for some after-work ‘activity’ on the slopes.
‘It was fairly awkward serving him scrambled eggs the next morning,’ she blushes.
Indeed, while the stereotypical chalet girl is harder to find these days, what remains true about hosts is a keen sense of a good time. On my first night, Athina invites me to the Mont Blanc bar for a ‘drum and bass’ night.
Several drinks down, I’m being reassured that Les Arcs is one of the more relaxed resorts – compared to the likes of party towns such as Val d’Isere or Tignes.
This seems hard to believe, though, given we’re still out partying a few hours before breakfast service begins at 7am. But such is the hardened chalet host way of life, which the team more than takes in its stride.
Yet this is just a warm-up. The ante is upped even further on Wednesday – the hosts’ day off – when many head to infamous apres-ski bar La Folie Douce halfway up the mountain.
It’s quite a spectacle. There’s pounding house music, shirtless acrobatic performers tight-roping across our heads, dancers clad in tutus and zebra costumes and skiers attempting their best moves on top of wooden tables.
I wince while paying €10 (£8.70) for a pint of IPA and feel relieved to have loaded up on bread and cheese back at the chalet. A main course at the bar’s accompanying restaurant, La Fruiterie, can cost up to €41 (£35.70).
She even got involved with the gruelling Tuesday cleaning duties
Provided you’ve made it back down the mountain in one piece, the evening continues at the Mont Blanc bar for ‘band night’, where a local four-piece delivers renditions of British classics from the likes of Oasis and the Arctic Monkeys.
Surrounded by shirtless twenty-something-year-olds belting out Sweet Caroline, Athina points out a Mont Blanc bar tradition – ‘ceiling surfing’.
The all-too-willing crowd helps everyone, from bartenders to older tourists, ‘stage dive’ across the sweaty room. It’s certainly a spirited atmosphere (a brief skirmish even erupts at one point).
What’s undeniable, though, is the camaraderie that radiates between the hosts. The full team has made it out tonight, including area manager Jill, and they spend the majority of the evening arm-in-arm as they dance and sing (or yell, rather).
‘We work together, live together and play together,’ Athina says. ‘Of course, there are issues now and then, but you develop a pretty unique, close bond.’
Plating up bowls of tomato soup as our final starter, I consider the experience I’ve had.
The hours are fairly brutal and there are some challenging moments (I try not to think about some of the Tuesday cleaning duties), but there are worse ways to spend the winter months.
You certainly don’t need to have a double-barrelled surname to make it as a chalet host any more. Perhaps just a high alcohol tolerance, a good sense of humour and, of course, a love of the slopes.
Who knows, maybe I’ll be re-joining the ranks when next winter rolls around.
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