[part title=”Brynild Vulin”]
Snowboarding is naturally younger than its parent sport, but it seems that we’ve definitely inherited some of that relaxed DNA. Because let’s face it: sliding down a mountain is a great way of whiling away hours that could otherwise have been spent learning Spanish, cleaning the bathroom, or writing about art for a New York newspaper. And in an increasingly dog-eat-dog world, a little wintry sojourn offers a welcome and admirable distraction; the metaphorical diamond sitting on the cowpat of daily existence. We are of course, completely aware of this, which is why it’s good fun to send a snow report back to the office when you are on holiday, rubbing it in a little. It’s a short text message that – for a few hours at least – makes us feel like Barbara Cartland flicking a fag in a Cartier ashtray while our minions scrub the guttering. And escapism doesn’t come much better than that.