From Snowboard to Coat Rack: Ski Town Aesthetic

Somewhere, I once read that art is about finding that feeling, concept, or thought that the whole world subconsciously relates to—and being the first to transform it into words, paper, or canvas. That feeling is exactly what ran through my head the first time I visited a ski town back in 2013. There was something about the simplicity of the architectural design, combined with a raw robustness in the way big stones and large logs were used to define mountain aesthetics. The use of vintage ski apparel to decorate the interiors of homes, restaurants, and hotels complemented the mountain aesthetic so well that it immediately scratched an itch in my brain. I thought to myself: so simple, yet so appropriate for the space. I deeply enjoyed the way upcycled skis and snowboards added to the interior design of ski towns.

After my trip, as I grew fond of this aesthetic, I realized that the mountain aesthetic doesn’t work everywhere—it wasn’t something I could incorporate into my room back in Mexico City. It just didn’t fit the space.

While brainstorming the right aesthetic for my Upcycle project, I thought back to that 14-year-old kid who was deeply impacted by mountain design all those years ago. This was the perfect opportunity to upcycle ski apparel and use it for décor in my Boulder apartment. Then came the vision. I thought about all the artifacts that skis and snowboards had been repurposed into—benches, ski shots, wall art—and I gathered all the ideas. However, I wanted my project to be unique, something I hadn’t seen before, and, most importantly, something that would serve a useful purpose in my apartment. After some brainstorming and a couple of sketches, I decided to make a table using snowboards and skis. My initial design featured four snowboards as the tabletop and two pairs of skis as the legs.

However, there was a big challenge: finding the gear to upcycle. Before spending time designing the table, I needed to secure the materials first and base my design around them. I started by asking friends and family if they had any broken gear I could take off their hands. That led nowhere—people tend to throw away their broken gear. Next, I approached several rental and ski shops around Boulder. I visited Christy Sports, the largest ski rental store in the area, but unfortunately, they had no broken ski gear available. It became clear that finding skis and snowboards to upcycle would be much more challenging than I had anticipated.

Luckily, I had an upcoming ski trip that I could use as an opportunity to scout around local ski stores. Before heading to Vail, I wanted to manage my expectations, so I brainstormed alternative designs that wouldn’t require as much gear. A chair, perhaps? Maybe I could make something work with just one snowboard and a pair of skis. A coffee table made from a single snowboard seemed possible.

With that in mind, I went from one ski store to the next, hoping for the best. It wasn’t until the third store I visited that I struck gold. They told me they had a rental board that had been wrecked a few days ago, and after I explained my project, they were happy to give it to me. To my surprise, the board they handed me was an LIB Tech Orca—a highly popular snowboard with a stunning minimalist design inspired by the Orca whale. This was more than just a piece of gear; it was a piece of art.

With such a beautiful snowboard in hand, my plans changed. There was no way I was going to cut it in half to build something. I had to think of another way to incorporate it into my project. That’s when the idea of a coat hanger came to me. I could leave the board’s design intact while attaching hooks, transforming it into both functional wall art and a coat hanger. The concept was simple yet fitting—just like the mountain aesthetic I had fallen in love with. And so, I got to work.

To ensure that the project met both aesthetic and functional requirements, some planning was necessary. I wanted the hooks to blend seamlessly into the board’s design rather than disrupt it. Transparent hooks seemed like the best option. After searching online, I found some that were the perfect size and aesthetic, so I ordered them.

Furthermore, achieving a balanced look was trickier than I initially thought. The snowboard I was using happened to be a powder directional board, meaning it wasn’t symmetrical. It had a shorter, narrower tail compared to its long, wide nose—designed for deep snow days in the mountains. To get the balance just right, I snapped a picture of the board alongside a ruler to use as a reference for my dimensions. I uploaded the image to my device and began sketching different layouts. Simply dividing the board into four equal sections and placing a hook in each didn’t achieve the look I wanted—it felt off due to the narrow tail. The best solution was to proportionally shift the hooks slightly closer to the nose, creating the illusion of centered placement.

After measuring and marking the correct spots for the hooks, I made sure to thoroughly clean the board’s surface to ensure a strong bond between the adhesive backing of the hooks and the snowboard itself. A meticulous cleaning process was performed, and finally, I was ready to attach the hooks. With careful precision, they ended up looking exactly as planned.

Now, the board needed a home in my apartment, and I had just the right space for it. However, securing it to the wall required some hardware. My first instinct was to buy a drill bit and screws from Home Depot, but that didn’t align with the upcycling theme of the project. Instead, I decided to incorporate another layer of sustainability. During my morning run, I passed by a few construction sites near my apartment and asked if they had any leftover materials I could repurpose. To my luck, I was handed a small jar full of rusty nails. I realized I could use the snowboard’s pre-drilled binding holes to position the nails, preserving both the aesthetic and the integrity of the board.

Although the final product wasn’t exactly what I had originally envisioned, I truly believe this natural evolution mirrors what happens in most big projects. It will always be true that the biggest enemy of a plan is the execution—adjustments will always be necessary to arrive at a finished, realistic version of the idea. This project was no exception. However, I believe the final product stayed even truer to the original aesthetic than my initial concept.

The Ski Town aesthetic is a combination of rugged minimalism that blends seamlessly with the mountain environment while remaining austere and modest. I truly believe my final product captures that essence. The snowboard itself—featuring an artistic Orca whale design—surprisingly fits within the mountain aesthetic, representing the best of skiing days. There’s a common phrase among skiers that describes exceptional powder days as more akin to “diving,” “snorkeling,” or “surfing” rather than simply skiing. That sentiment perfectly aligns with the aesthetic I created. It represents not just the mountains, but the best of ski days.

Citations:

Picture 1: https://www.skierdeals.com/winter/top-ski-towns/