Stratton was the only mountain in New England with a 2,000 foot drop that I had not skied. I felt obligated to ski Stratton to round out my knowledge. So out of morbid curiosity, I put Stratton on my List. I was spoiling for a fight and prepared myself for another shit show. But instead of a shit show, I found a slush show.

Of all the heirs to New England’s ski resort throne, Stratton is of a higher and uncontested pedigree (and I mean that in the most derogatory way possible). On occasion, I have used the word gaudy to describe recent resort developments such as Claybrook at Sugarbush and Spruce Peak at Stowe. But the level of distastefulness I experienced at Stratton’s was supremely offensive.

How does the target demographic not revolt due to shameless patronizing? Why do the richy rich respond most favorably to homogenization without substance? I don’t disrespect wealthy individuals for wanting a well furnished upper class second home. But I do disrespect lack of taste and originality. The human desire to want what the other has is what keeps Stratton in business.

There is only one thing I hate more than homogenized faux villages and that is parking lots that require a bus. And Stratton doesn’t screw around in this department. If you aren’t a VIP guest or paying for parking, you can take the bus. I got sent down to Lot 2, three quarters of a mile away from the ticket window.

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