Welcome to the Mountain Stammtisch — where long‐time local Jean‐Claude (JC) Moritz shares stories, memories, and the heartbeat of growing up in the Vail Valley.
There are three absolute guarantees when you live along I-70:
Taxes.
Tourists asking where the nearest Starbucks is.
Aspen making sure everybody knows Aspen exists.
Living right outside Vail, I set out on a classic High Country road trip last week: start in Vail, roll through Glenwood Canyon, drop off a saxophone in Glenwood, and head up Highway 82 to Aspen.
Before even heading towards Aspen, I launched a highly scientific research project. Anthropologists spend years studying ancient civilizations; I spent an afternoon wandering souvenir and T-Shirt shops to measure the exact temperature of the Aspen vs. Vail feud.
I started right at home in Vail, checking five different t-shirt shops across Vail Village and Lionshead alone—a surprisingly high count for one town. I expected the worst.
Instead? Nothing. No "Aspen Sucks" tees, no clever stickers, not even a mildly defensive coffee mug.
A guy working at Charlie’s T-Shirts told me they used to carry one that read: “Build a wall between Aspen and Vail, and make Aspen pay for it.”
Naturally, it was completely sold out. Hard to blame 'em—that’s solid work. But it made me wonder: does Charlie Stone still make the classic “Where Has Your Aspen?” shirts? How about a plain old “Aspen Sucks”? Where did they all go?
So I dropped off the sax in Glenwood, drove up the valley, and hit downtown Aspen expecting to find racks of anti-Vail gear.
Instead, I hit a wall of Hermès, Vuori, and ultra-high-end boutiques—the kind of extreme luxury that even Vail doesn't have. I ran out of money just looking at the store fronts. After wandering past price tags that could cover a mortgage, I finally tracked down what felt like the only actual T-shirt shop left in town.
I asked the woman behind the counter at Aspen T-Shirt Company if she had any "Vail Sucks" shirts or any negative “Vail” items. She looked at me, kind of laughed, and said she couldn't recall ever stocking anything like that.
Zero for two. Booooo!
Determined to find a trace of the old feud, I walked into Ute Mountaineer and struck up a conversation with one of the guys working—Dan I believe was his name, I can't quite remember.
I mentioned that I grew up in Vail.
He didn't hesitate: "I'm sorry to hear that."
Aha! It does exist! The spark was still there! Now it’s time to stir the pot.
But then he dropped some actual truth on me. He explained that most of the tourists walking into the shop today don't even know the history between the two resorts anymore. The classic mountain-town rivalry has faded into the background.
His final takeaway?
"We're way too PC now to put stuff like that on shirts."
Defensive Coordinator duty, 2014. Warming up under the Maroon Bells, locked in with Coach Meyer.
Some venues just set the stage, and on this day, leaving Aspen with a loss was simply not on the agenda.
The Rivalry That Was
If you grew up in Colorado ski country, this dynamic used to be everything.
As a player, I competed against Aspen in every sport possible. As a coach, I coached against them. Football, basketball, baseball, soccer, track—probably chess. If high school sports had competitive lawn mowing, we would’ve found a way to schedule Aspen.
Every time we crossed paths, the unspoken rule was clear: Nobody wanted to finish second. Especially not to Aspen.
Basketball Coaching hat on. On the hardwood against the Skiers.
Different town, same rule: we don't leave Aspen in second place. 🏀 battle.
Two Different Flavors of Rich
Even as the old rivalry softens, the two towns still wear their wealth completely differently:
Aspen walks into the room, commands the lights, and makes sure everyone notices the entrance. It has Hermès on the corner, wears a Rolex, and expects you to look.
Vail acts like it accidentally became rich while out fly fishing. It wears a worn-in fleece vest, sips a N/A craft beer, and says, "Oh, this old thing?"
Aspen announces itself. Vail acts like it just got back from skiing Blue Sky Basin and didn't notice the room existed in the first place.
Dior, Hermès, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Valentino, Gucci are just some luxury stores that can be found in Aspen.
The Real Punchline
Visitors think these two towns live in completely different universes. But look past the surface, and the data tells a different story.
Call it the High Country T-Shirt Index: I found five t-shirt shops packed into the Vail area alone (and that’s not even counting Beaver Creek), compared to just one surviving souvenir spot left in all of downtown Aspen.
What does that disparity actually mean? Both towns are rapidly shifting toward ultra-high-end retail, designer boutiques,and sleek corporate luxury. Aspen is just further along in the evolution, replacing local character with high-fashion storefronts—and Vail isn't far behind.
Under the hood, both valleys share the exact same reality:
The ski instructor keeping Aspen running can't afford to live in Aspen.
The chef making Vail world-class can't afford to live in Vail.
They might have stopped printing trash-talk shirts because the culture went corporate, PC, or high-fashion, but the workforce in both valleys is playing the exact same game of commute roulette—whether that’s grinding up Highway 82 or navigating through Glenwood Canyon. We are way more alike than different.
A view of Aspen Mountain. We are more alike than different.
The Verdict
After extensive field research involving zero federal funding, a saxophone drop-off, and one local at Ute Mountaineer keeping the dream alive, here is the final takeaway:
The legendary Aspen vs. Vail war hasn't been won by either side. It just got priced out and sanitized by high-end retail.
Aspen isn't making "Vail Sucks" shirts anymore. Vail isn't printing "Where’s your Aspen?" or “Aspen Sucks” shirts either.
At this point, nobody has time for a rivalry. We’re all too busy trying to find parking.
