Cœur de Megève

When I was 15, I asked my mum if I could go to a (dodgy) nightclub with some friends. I'm sure she was horrified by the thought, but she didn't say no. Instead, she gave me a choice: I could go if I really wanted to or, she'd make my favourite supper and share her favourite film with me. Secretly, the thought of a sticky club full of questionable people filled me with horror, so I chose option B.

And option B introduced me to the most sublime and perfect film that’s ever been made: Charade. It stars Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant in a suspenseful drama and love story that unfolds throughout the streets of Paris in a barrage of divine Givenchy, and a pitch-perfect score by Henry Mancini. But the film's magic starts in the Alpine resort of Megève, and that evening, I fell in love not only with the film, but with a place I dreamt of visiting ever since.

Megève is one of those timeless places that oozes a sense of refined elegance and luxury — largely thanks to the Rothschild family, who developed this sleepy mountain village in the Haute-Savoie in the Twenties. No wonder Audrey loved it so much and holidayed there regularly throughout the Fifties and Sixties.

Cœur de Megève is located, as you might imagine, in the heart of the resort's pedestrianised area, but the staff are incredibly helpful with your luggage and give helpful instructions for parking. On arrival, Little Smith immediately beelined for a clamber on the ‘Grizzly Nest' bench, a limited-edition piece, handmade in Belgium by AP Collection. But I was too distracted by the display of Bocci 44.3 suspension lights hanging above me to usher him off. This exquisite collection of poured molten aluminium lights, running the length of the reception area, seemed to defy the essential laws of gravity. The space is studded with immaculate pieces, but nothing feels too serious. The whole atmosphere exudes a deeply homely and welcoming feel, as if you’re staying in your Parisian friend’s chic family chalet that’s been designed with a meticulous eye for detail, yet they want you to kick off your shoes and relax.

In the cosy lounge area, there are silver-birch floor lamps emanating a soft glow that seems to beam from the bark itself; and generous chairs that encourage curling up with a cocktail, especially if the centre-piece log-burning stove is lit. We visited in the summer, so it was more about spending time on our balcony, enjoying the sun and listening to the melting ice flowing through the stream below. You can feel the warmth of the village around you, with its patchwork of wood-clad buildings adorned with brimming flower boxes full of geraniums, yet you still feel so connected to the mountains. 

I wanted to stroke and touch everything at the hotel. The walls are predominantly a brushed walnut, which always feels like the most generous and inviting of woods. Tweeds, linens and soft wools create layers of warmth and comfort. Buttery limestone and marble adorn the perfectly lit bathroom. I loved lying in the early morning light, with the shutters a little ajar as the bells of the nearby church tolled. The interior designer Sybille de Margerie clearly wanted to create a deeply sensory experience.

For a bijou hotel, it felt deeply private. I wasn’t even aware of other guests staying until we went to breakfast, which was, incidentally, outstanding. How do the French make the simplest of omelettes taste so good? My humble efforts never yield such rewards. But then everything tasted good in Megève.

Some people’s litmus test of a hotel might be the pile of the towels, but mine is the deftness of the bartender in making my perfect martini. Don't get me wrong, the towels were great, but the martini was exceptional. I am set in my martini ways, and I don’t like to deviate, but I was persuaded that the combination of Kyoto dry gin and Baldoria vermouth would suitably impress and meet my exacting needs for an invigorating martini — and, reader, it did. 

It was a perfect palate opener for our supper at the hotel's Beefbar outpost. The menu is divided up into three sections: Beef, Reef and Leaf, and is described as street-food-style sharing plates. I’ll be honest, I question whether referring to the dishes as ‘street food’ is really necessary — this is elevated and delicious, and a world away from crammed parking lots in city centres serving up soggy burritos under a gazebo.

The food is fresh, fun and uplifting. Little Smith nibbled on a mini wagyu smash burger, but honestly, he was more enamoured of the chips (apparently it’s the beige stage) but that just meant all the more for Mr Smith. The crab salad was rich and heavenly, especially alongside the kale dish, which showed how simple ingredients can be brought together to create a symphony of joy. We also loved the hamachi crudo and the sea-bass scarpetta. The wine list naturally had some stellar references, but it also explored some lesser-known labels. We landed on a chardonnay from the Jura, an opulent, nutty masterpiece that paired effortlessly with the variety of foods we were trying. For dessert, I refused to share my îles flottantes, a generous pillowy meringue bathing languorously in a tropical bath of mango, passionfruit and guava (sorry, Mr Smith). 

It wasn’t all lounging around and sinking into deep relaxation, which of course would be totally fine if that’s your vibe (there’s even a boutique spa on site to help you on your way). But I couldn't visit the Alps in high summer and not channel my inner Heidi. Megève is surrounded by the breathtaking scenery of Le Grand Massif and Mont Blanc. We hiked the trails surrounding the village, the only sounds cowbells in nearby wild-flowered pastures.

I really didn’t want to leave our mountain sanctuary. We’d found a wonderful, relaxed rhythm during our stay, a pace that was set by Cœur de Megève itself. So, my advice: source some vintage Givenchy and arrange your stay pronto. Summer or winter, it's a haven for the soul. It may have been my first time, but it definitely won't be my last... Thank you, Audrey, for opening my eyes to an Alpine heaven (and saving me from a dodgy night out).