The Return Of The Ski Sweater
About a decade ago, one of my favorite ski partners and I rolled in from another day lapping powder and steeps in the Jackson Hole Mountain Resort backcountry, flush with adrenaline and snug in our ultra-technical kits and midlayers born from chemistry and physics experiments to keep us warm and dry.
So many hours of engineering and testing and agonizing had gone into these layers, we couldn't even comprehend their magic. And at the end of this particular day, we went to meet her parents, visiting from Connecticut. They were lounging in an après bar, sporting handsome, Norwegian-patterned, woolen sweaters along with their Gore-Tex ski pants. Of course they were.
This, then, was the mark, the domain, of skiing's dignified elders: parents, grandparents, everyone in those pictures from Alta, UT, sending it in the 1930s on 7-foot long straight skis or noodling in the Alps in classic Slim Aarons photos. For years, I've openly envied the skiers in such photos–not just for the 40-foot snowbanks in every photo and living in an era where entire 4,000-foot mountains didn't go from 18" of fresh pow to skied out hardpack by 9:35 a.m.–but secretly for the glorious alpine style, the festive individualism and character, of their many ski sweaters.
As modern skiers, we have technical gear that promises to keep us alive everywhere from a high speed quad to a ski descent off Denali's frozen summit. When these modern technical layers hit the scene a few decades ago, the wool staple, with its millennia-old ovis aries technology and expressions of personal style, was shunned.
These days, however, the ski sweater is once again having a moment. Or hopefully, more than a moment. In recent years, ski sweaters have been popping up in force, on slopes from Verbier to Jackson Hole to Fernie. And it's not just ski tourists who have followed fashion magazines' "ski town style guides" hoping to convey some sort of "insider" status–but effectively announcing the opposite. It's ski bums, pro skiers, kids, grandparents (obviously), and the lucky visitors who aren't taking their vacation too seriously that are embracing the heritage and lighter side of ski culture.
A couple of weeks ago, I did a double take inside that sardine can of beer and shot-ski clutching celebratory skiers at the base of the Jackson Hole, the Mangy Moose. Woolen statements were out in force. Guys sported wool with vintage ski racing stripes, girls donned Scandinavian takes and woolen layers with "ski" knitted on the front, more racing stripes, and a few standout, epic thrift store finds. It was a far cry from both the dullness of the technical midlayer, the occasional grandparent or ironic sweater wearer, and it was beautiful!
This spring, I ran across Jackson-based pro skier Jim Ryan and fresh-from-Cortina Olympic skimo racer Anna Gibson looking stylish in wool sweaters while waiting in line at the Bridger gondola. Jim's Helly Hansen sweater was patterned with dots while Anna's sported Olympic rings and a Team USA flag. "I love ski sweaters! They look good, and it's a fun way not to overheat on a warm day!" he said. The nod to the sport's style and heritage plays a role too, he pointed out. "I romanticize the era of ski sweaters and straight skis–but I feel they are really strong in general right now–people are really excited about them."
It's not just the elements of individualism that sweaters offer, but, given that wool is breathable, durable, warm, and a natural, regenerative fiber, it isn't shedding plastic, petroleum-based microfibers the way fleece and other synthetic materals do.
Helping fuel the cultural renewal are, in addition to long-time classic ski sweater sources, like Dale of Norway, Devold, and Obermeyer, a slew of younger ski-crowd focused newcomers like We Norwegians, Delaine, and Alps and Meters. At Alpine Revival, founded by former pro skiers AJ Cargill and Heather Featherman, the colorful, performance cashmere sweater business is booming. Cargill, who worked as a buyer in the soft goods industry for over a decade (and is the first woman to telemark ski the Grand Teton), says Alpine Revival was created to fill a space in the market. "I kept thinking, why doesn't anyone bring back the cool sweaters of the 70s and 80s?" she says. The idea of replacing petroleum-based synthetic mid-layers with regenerative, natural wool fibers was also a big driver.
While some pieces definitely qualify as an investment, don't let cost impede your style. Thrift stores and resale shops often have strong contenders: the sweater isn't always a Scandinavian themed piece of art. Take, for example, my own beloved, no name sweater complete with an alpine motif and skiers on it–that was procured for $3.00 at a thrift store. Three bucks or not, it garners admiration and smiles whenever I take it out. For aficionados like Ryan, that's the whole point of the ski sweater: "We can celebrate ski culture…I'm always looking for ways to celebrate the fun side of skiing instead of the hyper competitive side."
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This story was originally published April 15, 2026 at 4:57 AM.