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Elmwood Park – Storm Front |
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Written by David Moore
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RILEY OWENS IS SEATED AT HER DESK in a corner office on the 30th floor of the Bank of America Plaza Building. She peers out across the skyline, pushing a lock of her short blond hair behind one ear. In the distance she can see a swirl of dark clouds forming on the horizon, parted every few minutes or so by an ominous flash of lightning. |
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Conversation - Skipper Beck |
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Written by Celina Mincey
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He’s everything you might expect from the owner of a Benz dealership robust, imposing, dressed in nicely tailored clothes, surrounded by big toys and fancy gadgets, a member in good standing of the good ol’ boys’ club. But then he speaks, and Skipper Beck becomes a real guy, a personable one who seems more excited to tell you about his son’s stock car racing than his business successes. Don’t get me wrong; you can’t accuse Beck of being a regular guy.
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Written by Todd Trimakas
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A plane goes off the runway in Jackson Hole Wyoming and my 7:10 a.m. flight is delayed until 2 p.m.: plenty of time to think and re-think the absolutely luxurious time spent this past week with Julie and without Kate. Appropriate enough for our luxury issue this year, where we try to define--and let others explain--their idea of the good life.
The good life for me this month was my stay at The Aspens, just down the street from Teton Village at the base of Jackson Hole. Over 400 inches of light, powdery Wyoming snow to snowboard until my legs turn to pudding. Then, after two days of boarding, a trip to the spa where Helga (not her real name) deep-tissue massaged away a year’s worth of magazine stress that has buried itself deep into the space between my shoulder blades and spine. The day was capped by a visit to the rooftop hot tub, where I shared the sun setting on Jackson Hole with a family of Yanks from Long Island and some Russians from Moscow drinking Mexican beer.
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Written by Tom Carrig
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Having a conversation with Ron Ahlert is a bit of a challenge. Like many other executive chefs, Ahlert is constantly juggling numerous daily responsibilities and minor emergencies simultaneously. In his office the phone rings, the computer beeps and there is an endless parade of people sticking their heads in the door with quick questions that do not necessarily require quick answers. As we walk from the office to the kitchen, emanating aromas make my mouth water as the barrage continues—food deliveries require his signature, line cooks have questions, and two guys who are going to resurface the floor want to know when the kitchen will be dormant for a few days. Hah! |
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