PATRICK DOPFER/VORALBERG TOURISMUS
I’ve never seen a shade of blue quite like it: bold, bright and as shiny as the sun-speckled surface of the sea. Or glitter-infused lube.
I could be describing the great swathes of crystal-clear Alpine sky stretching over Lech Zürs am Arlberg, in Austria, where I have escaped to for a January blues-banishing weekend of skiing. And, to be fair, the view is stunning. If I was more into Instagram, or skies, for that matter, I would caption the shit out of it. But I am in fact referring to a particularly piercing pair of peepers possessed by a dashing chap called Mark. Honestly, the last time I plumbed such depths was when I tumbled into a K-hole.