Designs on Flaine

Flaine is the ski-resort equivalent of Marmite. There's no middle road in the appraisal of its architecture. And who better to give me a new appreciation for its concrete charms than the four architects in our group?

Langmuirs above the resort

The resort was built in the 1960s, the alpine branch of the post-war and Europe-wide wave of interest in healthy living. It was the tail end of the baby-boomer generation and families of four, five, six children were commonplace (ain't that the truth – us four siblings have 21 cousins). The family that exercises together… well, let's just say that a fit and healthy new generation was to rise from the embers of the world war, to become the moves and shakers of a brave new world. In my neck of the woods, south-east London, the new deal took the shape of a project called the Peckham Experiment, with its now-famous apartment block built around a swimming pool. France had its mountains, the outdoor gym to beat them all. So Hungarian architect and a 'boss' of Bauhaus, Marcel Breuer, was brought in to design the hub of a new resort. Highlights include the main apartment complex, the hotel with the overhang and, nestled in the midst of it all, his perfect little chapel.

Shades of concrete

I used to be among Flaine's detractors, immune to the subtlety of its shades and shadows, though no one could deny it's the ultimate in ski convenience. But having checked out the cool little exhibition on its design, and seeing the buildings in the sunshine, as well as blending into the brown of the hill, I find I like it a lot. Far from being cold and clinical, it's all warmth and approachability. 

As Marcel Breuer said: "The architecture of Flaine is an example of application of the principle of shadow and light which I adopted. The facades of the buildings are cut as points of diamond. Sunbeams strike their facets under different angles; contrasted lightings result from their reflection."

Breuer's Le Flaine hotel, with its cantilevered terrace

The understated chapel

And the modern sculptures, including a Picasso, lend quirkiness and humour to the central Forum. I still love a traditional chalet, but isn't it a joy to have both?

Top of the form: a piece by Jean Dubuffet