As we continue to watch the match, Borwick explains that polo has had periods of peaks and troughs throughout time, popular in the 80s, then again in the early 2000s. He believes we’re now witnessing another revival, which he hopes will lend to a deeper understanding of the sport on a global scale (according to Swiss tourist accommodation statistics, American overnight guests in St. Moritz over the month of January surged from 6,931 in 2023 to 9,810 in 2025). Upon spotting Gstaad Guy in the crowd, I realize it helps, of course, that the event is a content creation jackpot.
I ask a woman from France seated next to me, who has been coming to the tournament for a handful of years now, why this extravagantly niche game resonates today. She explains to me that snow polo is less insular than other polo events she’s been to, where one must know who’s who. Tickets to major matches at the prestigious Argentine Open, for example, sell out hours after release, while smaller events, like the Polo Hamptons, enforce a 900-guest cap, designed to encourage networking.
Snow polo may not be as widely known, but that’s precisely what makes it less exclusive. There’s still room for hardcore and non-hardcore fans alike, from ages sixteen to 85, including a fair share of billionaires, but also average people like moi. This first Friday, for instance, is free to the public. And while a good chunk of spectators do, in fact, take private planes, the train is also very popular, even among the jet set.
“It’s the largest concentration of Birkins you’ll ever see on the Landequart line,” my French seatmate jokes.
Whether it’s for the fashion, the postcard scenery, or a genuine love for the sport, it’s clear that people are here for a good time. By late afternoon, clusters of puffer coats are bouncing up and down on elevated surfaces—aprés ski style—to DJs spinning Fisher’s “Losing It.” Later that night, the tech CEOs, Swiss bankers, private jet owners (and maybe even a few polo players), will pour into Dracula, a Gunter Sachs-founded nightclub that runs on an elusive, lifetime membership.
As the snowfall starts to accumulate, scoring becomes increasingly difficult. But Flexjet steals the final chukka, thanks to Stirling. They outscore Mackage two goals to one, earning their place in tomorrow’s semi-finals—though the opposing team’s fans don’t seem too fazed by the outcome. Before the players even have a chance to exit the field, the crowd is already making their way to the VIP tent for bumps of lunchtime caviar.
