Few alpine hotels commit as fully to the language of the Savoyard baroque as Airelles Courchevel, whose exterior reads like a confection from a Central European fairy tale — painted fresco panels, curving snow-laden balconies, and ornate carved eaves rising above the spruce trees of the Jardin Alpin. The building's rounded corner towers and Lüftlmalerei-style facade decorations place it closer to the aristocratic hunting lodges of Bavaria than to the stripped-back chalet vernacular that dominates much of Courchevel 1850, a deliberate act of theatrical distinction at the top of the resort's most exclusive address. Inside, the interiors sustain that ambition without tipping into caricature. Aged pine panelling — warm, honey-toned, clearly sourced from regional mills rather than factory-finished — lines the 40-odd guestrooms, where carved headboards with foliate painted detailing, red-patterned Savonnerie-style carpets, and heavy silk drape curtains in amber and gold establish a consistent register of high-alpine domesticity. The restaurant amplifies the mood: exposed larch ceiling beams, stucco-framed oval medallions at the cornice, and deep burgundy velvet dining chairs gathered around white-clothed tables beneath a gilt chandelier. Below grade, the spa pool is enclosed beneath a coffered timber ceiling supported on stone-clad columns, the shallow turquoise water lit from within — a room that manages the difficult trick of feeling both subterranean and generous.

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