A Cavalcade of Luxury
The I.C.E. St. Moritz
STORY & Photography | Brandon Faith
My hot chocolate jiggles in its cup as the train from Zurich to St. Moritz pulls into Samedan station just north of the city. Unless you have the capability to fly private, which many will choose to do, riding the rails on this leg of the journey is common for the attendees of The I.C.E. St. Moritz (or The International Concours of Elegance, St. Moritz), a prestigious car-show-meets-winter-wonderland extravaganza.
Outside our railcar, greens desaturate to whites as rolling hills lose their form under mountains of snow. The oranges and browns of rooftops dot the blank mountainous canvas… the towns become smaller and less populated with each stop.
Arriving in St. MOritz
At this time of year, beyond the excitement of the event itself, the only adventurers in town are skiers setting out on days-long excursions in the back country. Their cargo loads dwarf even mine. The crisp mountain air rushes into the cabin as I step out and make my way down the cobblestone streets of the small city. The distant laughter of children mingles with the rhythmic bounce of my suitcase, together filling what would otherwise be an almost silent morning.
I’ve come from the north, but those arriving from the south must brave a drive through treacherous, endlessly curving mountain roads — the kind that would test even the most seasoned canyon carving Angeles Crest driver. St. Moritz, Switzerland, has long held a mythical place among Europe’s luxury destinations — alongside St. Tropez, Monaco, and Lake Como — and The I.C.E., the reason I’ve come, only adds to its allure.
It’s clear from the flyer alone that this is no ordinary, mom-and-pop car show. Deep in the valley below the legendary Badrutt’s Palace Hotel, smoke and gasoline fumes rise as concours cars from around the world perform a delicate dance onto the frozen surface of Lake St. Moritz.
Naturally, many owners face the same question: how? Piloting these rarely driven machines is nearly as much of a spectacle as the event itself, especially considering that many of the winding roads leading to this remote city are barely wide enough for a standard car hauler. As a result, once-in-a-lifetime sights unfold — million-dollar cars of every age and marque fighting to keep from sliding up, down, and around the ice.
THE PREAMBLE
The garage next to the lake is mostly full and quiet by Thursday night after a full day of carspotters grabbing their photos patiently waiting for what’s next, like kids on Christmas morning. Though many of these concours cars only make the one-minute trip from the garage to the lake and back, the festivities draw ultra-rich enthusiasts from all over the world who choose to drive their own prized possessions as a chance to feel included. Reminiscent of something like Pebble Beach Concours, the town itself becomes just as much of an attraction as everything from Pagani’s to 1950s Aston Martins slowly cruise to nowhere. Seriously, the town itself is walkable in all directions, but the show goes on as a nice cherry on top for everyone.
Differing luxury brands find their homes in local spaces ranging from Richard Mille to Vista Jet to RUF. Practically everyone sports their best winter attire as well with the recurring theme being furs, particularly in hat form. The ratio is about five fur hats for every one vintage or modern super or luxury car as I watch from the main circular intersection in the town square.
The snow crunches under my boots as I head to dinner at a ski and bobsledding themed restaurant overlooking the entire lake; the city hosted the winter Olympics in 1928 and 1948. Though the city does not have a particular car history - the first ice event was in 2022 as a result of the short trip of a few Bentley tourers across the frozen lake in 1985 — the whole event has a historical undertone to it.
The Extravaganza Begins
As the thousands of participants descend the mountainside onto the lake Friday morning, the fanciest of collectors come dressed in vintage winter clothing alongside cars perched with equally old skis and luggage. There’s so much “luxury” that the only thing out of place is the local in his affordably priced Patagonia jacket. A photographer friend of mine, Jacob George, who has wanted to attend for several years but has never gotten a chance, says his drive to go is that “automobiles and fashion are heavily intertwined, yet seldom do they ever come together like at Ice.”
Though the event is technically a concours, Friday winds down quickly with less participants than Saturday and without a hitch. This is my third attempt at The I.C.E. The first try took place during a heat wave leading to the frozen lake surface cracking on a few occasions from the weight of the cars resulting in the second day almost being cancelled, the second try did not happen because of an excess of snow resulting in the cars being corralled and confined to the garage all weekend, but the third try seems to have nailed it.
Without a single setback, the cavalcade of machinery — worth well over a few hundred million dollars — descends the ramp onto the frozen lake just as the sun rises on Saturday morning. The big day has arrived: the cars are gliding across the ice, carving graceful laps atop a fresh bed of snow. To my right, a Maserati is being unveiled over a cleared out portion of the lake so the water can be seen below it. To my left, a woman dips various meats and breads into a vat of cheese pluming with steam while an ice skating waiter brings champagne to her table. In front of me a Ferrari 375 MM kicks up snow into my lens as its tires dig a trench leaving the snow black with smoke.
Cars from the 1920s to 2025 drift around each corner as owners choose their own adventure of safety and speed. One Maserati owner pushes it too far, sliding into the snow barrier with reckless abandon. Fritz of the Pearl Collection leans his head outside his Nash Metropolitan with his trapper cap flaps dancing in the wind as snow paints the car like a Jackson Pollock canvas. I’m pretty sure I saw one of those in town, too. Lexi, a young woman I met who happened to be in town for reasons outside of The I.C.E. but chose to attend the event, calls it “partaking in extravagance.”
Awards are presented in the afternoon, then chaos descends as all the cars are invited for one final lap. Every car struggles for traction as the most expensive and exclusive traffic jam in history unfolds.
As I am shuttled back to my hotel room, I consider the question, “Why does this show exist?” The answer comes quickly, its uniqueness and extravagance from every angle, and extremeness in both environment and the quality and rarity of the cars. Doug DeMuro of YouTube and collector fame recently called The I.C.E. the “coolest damn thing in the world,” and he has never been. My friend Giorgio, who arrives with renowned collector Simon Kidston, states their reasoning as “where else?” The cosmic tumblers have aligned for sure… the venue, the weather, the ice, the people, the cars… it could happen nowhere else. Got an opening on your bucket list?
