Renaissance. Rebirth. Revival of “classical learning and wisdom.” Through centuries it has referred to that period of blossom, the one following the Middle Ages when the revival of classical learning and wisdom followed a long cycle of what Britannica calls “cultural decline and stagnation.” Renaissance is thought of in terms of art, philosophy, politics, sometimes commerce. Not often is renaissance thought of in terms of skiing.
And yet, there it is: evidence through the ages of renaissance on snow. It’s not always classical or wise, but rebirth is there. We see ski renaissance in the 1930s when Harriman invited Hollywood to Sun Valley; the 1940s when the men of 10th Mountain emerged from foxholes in Europe to build future Aspens and Vails; and in the 1960s when Friedl Pfeifer launched the ski-for-cash pro racing circuit.
Then came the ‘70s, that hedonistic decade with arguably the best of rebirths: hot dogging. It was raw, and unbuttoned—pot-smoking, back-scratchers, a stunt called the deep-crotch christie. Such fun! So badass. Editors called it “getting it on” and “monkey business.” We call it a renaissance, yet another example of skiing re-inventing itself over and over.
And what is today’s example? Now. Winter 2025? How is skiing re-tooling itself?
Is it in the re-proliferation of smaller, quieter, more private ski areas—the Yellowstone Clubs and the Wasatch Ranches and the Powder Mountains? (In 2024, The New York Times asked: “Can Reed Hastings Disrupt Skiing?”) Perhaps it’s the re-emergence of slim-fitting ‘70s-style skiwear. Or Maria Bogner’s ‘50s-era stretchies. Or Oakley’s framed neon goggles, so big and bright in the ‘80s. Or, here’s a classic: Wayne Wong’s sunnies, which mirrored the handsome fella or babe sitting next to us on the chairlift. There has to be wisdom in the comeback of that phenomenon.
Or maybe, more classically, today’s revival is less joke, more serious. Maybe it’s the comeback of narrower skis, or in renewed interest in carving a groomed run instead of seeking out a powdered face. Or maybe it’s the return of the old ways of ski teaching—the private ski instructor, the one-on-one, the close attention paid to technique and fundamentals, and the level of determination and dedication it takes for a novice skier to go from zero to hero in the outback of a challenging mountain. Maybe those trends constitute this decade’s renaissance?
Let’s unpack this notion. First, the private lesson.
“Since the pandemic there seems to be an insatiable demand.” This from Eric Lipton, member of the PSIA National Demo Team from 2008-2021 and director and head coach of Destination Ski Camps in Park City. Lipton spends his winter days focused on private groups devoted to improving their ski technique, of which there is no shortage. “There has been more wealth creation since the pandemic for business owners and investors,” he says. “Spending on curated skiing experiences seems to have increased.”
Curated. The term takes us back to old days and old ways. We see barrel-chested ski pros standing by the fire at Stowe or Tremblant with names like Stein, Chip and Rudi. They’re offering finite progression from snowplow to stem christie by way of focused attention. Army-grade drills on repeat, over and over. Proper stance and balance on skis is paramount. Add in pressure control and edging, a well-timed pole-plant or two… perfect those and you’re golden. Reward is lunch at 1 p.m. in a roundhouse. Menu may include gluhwein.
But there’s more—much more in 2025 than “rapid wealth accumulation” that’s responsible for returning skiers to private outdoor classrooms. “The sport,” Lipton says, “has been pushed to new levels.” Boots fit better and offer enhanced performance. Skis are designed for specific terrain—there are boards for bumps, powder, ice and groomed, you name it. Outerwear is warmer, dryer, better fitting. And new chairlift technologies carry us farther faster and more comfortably. The result, Lipton says, is that high-performance skiing has become more nuanced, more desirable—but not necessarily easier. “Many [skiers] need specific coaching in order to achieve the highest levels of performance.”
Renaissance of The Student
Here are five characteristics shared by private-lesson-takers, according to Liption: 1. Demands a personalized coaching plan. 2. Interested in a customized resort experience. 3. Seeks outstanding quality of coaching. 4. Wants to develop a long-term client-instructor relationship. 5. Expects to visit a variety of ski areas and countries and wants to bring their instructor.
Let’s meet Christine Heller, an ideal example. Ms. Heller hails from New York City and (in winter) Aspen. Now in her 40s, she is VP and director of private sales at Sotheby’s Aspen. But she’s also a very keen skier. At approximately $1000 per day, every single day of the season, Heller hires a private ski instructor from Aspen Skiing Company.
Why?
“To my core, I’m a ski bum,” she explains. “I have a love for the mountains, the skier lifestyle, a passion for skiing. It’s something I want to improve on. I want to become the best skier I can possibly be.”
An Aspen ski instructor called Chino Martinez is Christine’s go-to. Every winter day for the past several years, Chino and Christine meet-up at the base of Ajax, Snowmass or the Highlands—location depends on snow conditions, the day’s lesson plan, what’s for lunch, who’s around, a multitude of changing factors. And while sometimes an alternate private instructor is subbed-in for Chino if he’s double-booked, the scenario never changes. “Having a coach dedicated to improving my skiing,” says Heller, “well… you build a friendship, a sense of trust. He pushes me and I trust him. He conveys a message to me in a way that I receive well.”
Heller was an intermediate skier when this cycle started. “I could do diamonds but not confidently,” she says. “I was intimidated by runs in Temerity (Highlands), and if there was a dump of snow on Aspen, I was fearful.” She set a goal long ago to ski 100 days with a private instructor every season in order to reach a higher level. She claims that by focusing with Martinez on skiing’s fundamentals—balance, stance, edging, timing—she’s doing it.
Today, in 2025, Heller can ski most terrain, in most conditions, confidently. She won’t label herself an “expert” due to an ongoing, self-imposed requirement (a.k.a. need) for fine-tuning. Says Heller: “There’s always room for improvement.” But she describes Martinez as patient, positive, and fun to be with. “He’s very good at positive reinforcement but also quick to let me know when something is wrong, usually because I’m lazy. He’s great at getting to the point, but it’s not like school, he makes it fun. He cares. Everybody loves Chino.”
It’s true, $1000 per day over 100 days is a sizable investment. To Heller: it’s worth it. “Skiing is my no.1 sport, I want to give more to skiing than anything else, and everyone around me sees that it makes me happy. Besides,” she says, “Aspen is a skier community. It’s like living in a fish bowl with a strong current. There are a lot of things normalized here that wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Renaissance of The Instructor
Chino Martinez’s livelihood depends, in part, on people like Christine Heller. Private ski instruction is his living, it has been since his early days—a kid from Buenos Aires smitten by the sport after a family ski vacation, one driven to better himself as a skier. In the ‘90s, he replied to a blind newspaper ad for work at Snow Ridge Ski Resort, New York, despite speaking marginal English. He got the job, flew to NYC, took a taxi four hours and 59 minutes to the ski area in what he calls “the middle of nowhere,” and spent the next four seasons learning english, learning to ski, learning to teach skiing, and learning nearly every aspect of the ski resort industry: ski school, snowmaking, grooming, food and beverage. Zoom forward to 2025: he’s one of the most requested private pros on the snow school at Aspen.
Martinez likens private ski instruction to tennis camps by Rafael Nadal or Nick Bollettieri. “We’ve learned from them, the way they set up camps. People go for three or four days and learn the fundamentals. At the end of it, they’re killing it.” In tennis, fundamentals include grip, serve and stroke. On snow, it’s similar. Private ski instructors micro-focus on what Martinez calls good, old-fashioned basics: athletic stance, footwork, pole usage, pressure management, and the timing and blending of movements. Martinez and Heller might spend an entire afternoon playing with balance in the bumps, or simply growing comfortable with getting the hands in front. Together they have the time to slow things down, get it right, seek perfection. “Technique evolves over time,” he says, “but the more specific we are the more success we have. That’s the bottom line.”
And let’s not forget the add-ons. Like a personal concierge or an assistant, a private ski pro can arrange transportation, pre-book a lunch table, or arrange for extra instructors for kids or guests with varying abilities. Martinez frequently facilitates ski trips to Europe and heli-ski adventures to South America for private clients. He’ll also assess equipment, suggest adjustments, and recommend wider or narrower skis depending on the demands of the conditions and the mountain.
Which leads us to another trend evolving on the slopes this decade: the re-emergence of narrower skis. Also known as shrinkage.
Renaissance of The Narrow Ski + Carving
Elan introduced us to those clownish parabolic skis in the 1990s: 40 centimeters shorter than the average ski of the day, much, much wider, and with a pronounced, hourglass sidecut. Since the Slovenian company took that leap, skis have been getting fatter. Standard widths have expanded to 80 millimeters underfoot and greater. That is, until recently. Ski pros, manufacturers, the industry, everyone this season is touting the Ozemp-ification of skis in order to achieve better carve, greater versatility. Fischer, Rossignol, Stockli—they’re all in on the trend, re-introducing skinny skis to a market used to excessive waist sizes. One case in point: the Van Deer brand by World Cup skier Marcel Hirscher. The H-Power’s racy 67 millimeter-width underfoot is downsized considerably from the generous girth underfoot last season on most skiers in Colorado. It’s an old-school trend, indeed. We haven’t seen these narrow numbers on boards since the ‘80s, and private ski instructors like Martinez are all over it, recommending better carve and solid edge hold.
As with private ski instruction, the question has to be asked: Are more classic, narrow skis making a comeback? Companies like Van Deer are banking on it.
All this leads us to one final renaissance: carving. Skiers have been sniffing out powder since the beginning of ski time. Steep ‘n deep. Face shots. Blower. Freshies. They are the ultimate experience. Yet, in our society’s deep dive into deep-snow skiing, we may have lost our grip on mastery of the fundamentals: balance, pressure control, edging—the very basics pied-piper pros like Martinez and Eric Lipton have been touting.
Indeed, the art of carving is experiencing a renaissance. We’re seeing a comeback of gadgets and specialty clinics returning to fundamentals. The CARV system is a fine example. Using a sensor that fits under the liner of your ski boot, it’s a tool and digital application that closely analyzes your movement and, as a result, your performance. Motion and pressure are measured 20 times per second; the data is transmitted via Bluetooth to an app which breaks down details of your technique and feeds it to you through your ear buds, talking to you while skiing. Too far back? C’mon man, get forward. Hey, your timing is off, roll on edge sooner to stop that weak-ass skidding. CARV offers drills and games to help you improve. And best (or worst) of all: your technique is compared to other users’. Like a scorecard in golf or a match in tennis, you can no longer hide your weak layers.
Aspen’s Thomas Roennau was an early adopter of the CARV system. With 33 years of experience as a ski instructor and as a former Denmark demo team member, he scored the highest rankings in the CARV system ever. Now he’s running Aspen clinics to help private clients perfect their CARV scores. Roennau’s CARV Performance Institute uses CARV technology (and loads of video) to provide “immediate, precise feedback,” transforming “each run into a step toward mastery.” Ah, and there we have it. Back to those classic words again: Curation. Wisdom. Precision. Mastery. A return to basics may be the skiing comeback of the decade. It’s back to fundamentals. Renaissance. Revival of the classic old ways.
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