Ski instructors and women's hearts - a showdown

Okay, I admit it: Ski instructors have something going for them. When they stand on their skis in ski instructor gear, knees bent, casually dragging their poles behind them while effortlessly making perfect turns in front of you. With a toothpaste-perfect, Barbie Ken smile, they encourage you, even while your ski pants are soaked from constantly falling down, to try going down the slope a couple more times. I won't even start mentioning the struggles of the uphill climb on the drag lift.
But of course, you get back up. For the 37th time – you forcedly smile away the rage rising within you. And then this ridiculously handsome, bronzed god on skis holds a gummy bear under your nose. For motivation.
Gummy bears? Well, this would be the moment in a movie where the classic sound of a "film cut" would play. Because I was just 12. In Saalbach-Hinterglemm for a ski camp and my crush, the ski instructor, whom I – just as convinced as my 13 group mates – would marry, was named Franzl.

But whether it's Franzl, Toni, Sepp, or Jean-Pierre – the attraction of ski instructors works even on "real women." And that extends well into old age.

At least everything was easier in the past. This is what a handful of Leutascher ski instructors are sure of as I meet them on a regulars’ evening. They are in their mid-80s and regularly reminisce about the old days. "Do you remember the group of Dutch women, the blondes, who looked like mannequins?" Karl asks his companion. Hubert nods his head, smiles wryly, and takes a big sip of beer. Afterward, he shakes his head. Hollawind. That must have been a special memory, I think to myself. Gradually, the five of them open up. After all, they are gentlemen of the old school and are not so keen on sharing stories and clichés. But they agree: "You immediately notice when a woman or ski student has an interest in you. Back then as now."

Only back then, everything seemed to be simpler. "When you met in the evening after a day of ski instructing, there was always one who would kind of gauge whether there could be 'something going on'," Franz shares while we eagerly await the story. "And that was often the case," he gives us a little insight, confirming our thesis that ski instructors often don’t have to do much, and women’s hearts just seem to flutter towards them.

When I tell Kurt „Truk“ Brendle from the ski school Alpin Power in Seefeld about the stories of his older colleagues, he almost seems a bit envious. "I can tell you one thing, it's definitely not like it used to be," he replies immediately.

But why, I want to know?
"It used to be really easy for ski instructors to get women," he explains. "But that has changed a lot." Of course, pick-up lines and flirting are part of the ski instructor's “job.” "In a way, it’s expected of our profession." If the ladies respond – and that is indeed desired – then bingo. "But many of us are in relationships and happy. And we know what bed we sleep in." So is that it? Have ski instructors become loyal?

But back to the cheerful quintet at the ski instructor's regulars' table. They continue to amuse themselves immensely as they reminisce about the old times. "You know," Kurt explains to me, "whether young or old, it didn't matter back then. The ladies were from very young to sprightly – and all of them wanted to give us their hearts."

Sweet, I think to myself. The old school and the "hearts." Exactly. Even back then, it was hardly about hearts, let's be honest. "Well, we did know how to do it," he grins slyly at 80 years old. After all, there were already the good lines from a tanned man who knew how to present himself well.

Today, that's different too, Kurt Brendle knows. "Many young ski instructors simply don't have the way with words that we have, and especially that our predecessors had." The witty remarks are missing, and being a ski instructor is reduced to just teaching skiing.