Some buildings collect history; the Grand Chalet in Rossinière seems to inhale it. Standing at the heart of the village like an immense wooden cathedral, this vast and storied house has long fascinated visitors with its carved façade, improbable scale, and unmistakable aura of lived-in magic. It is a place where the line between home, hotel and stage has always been deliciously thin, where artists found refuge, families made memories, and an unforgettable cast of characters turned daily life into folklore.

This winter, GstaadLife opens the doors of the Grand Chalet once again. Across several episodes, we will wander through its rooms, stories and seasons, from the days when Tony Devenish and Phyllis Scott ran it as one of the region’s most eccentric small hotels, to the quieter years that followed, and the legends that linger in the rafters.
Our series begins with the people who animated the house from dawn to dusk: the gardener-porter with a heart the size of a cowbell, the queens of the kitchen and laundry, the maids in pencil skirts, the general dogsbodies, the mischief-makers, the performers, the ensemble without whom the Grand Chalet would have been just another handsome old building. Their quirks, routines and comic mishaps form the living heartbeat of the first chapter, “The Cast of Characters.”

As winter settles over the Saanenland, we invite you to step inside with us, to revisit the house that held more laughter than a place its size ought to contain, and to rediscover the human stories that make the Grand Chalet one of the region’s great treasures.

Foreword by Jeanette Wichmann

The Grand Chalet’s Cast of Characters
If the walls of the Grand Chalet could talk, they would not whisper; they would laugh. Between the 1950s and the 1970s, when Tony Devenish and Phyllis Scott ran the grand old house, it was not just guests who brought it to life but the extraordinary characters who kept it running. Each had their quirks, talents, and legends — and together they made the Grand Chalet feel more like a living stage than a hotel.

Raymond: The Gentle Giant
First among them was Raymond, the gardener, porter, handyman, and unofficial guardian of the Grand Chalet. A gentle giant with a heart as big as his hands, Raymond managed the flower and vegetable gardens, fed every stray cat that turned up, and lugged guests’ luggage from the station on a sleigh in winter and a wooden cart in summer. He even let the children ride on the back of his moped when collecting the post, an adventure that felt as daring as climbing the Matterhorn. His “office”, a small back room in the garage, was a treasure cave of broken tools, half-mended chairs, and forgotten objects left by guests over the years.
When Raymond passed away, he was succeeded by Marcus, an eccentric Englishman who was as unforgettable as his lederhosen, which, rumour had it, had not been washed in living memory. Marcus’s gardening style was enthusiastic but… creative. He sometimes struggled to tell weeds from roses, but his good humour was infectious. He skinny-dipped in the lake daily, much to the amusement of guests, many of whom were widows appreciative of the entertainment.

Madame Gottofrey: The Gatekeeper of the Laundry
If Raymond ruled the gardens, Madame Gottofrey reigned over the laundry room strategically placed by the main door so she could monitor everyone coming and going. She was a master of starch and steam, wielding her iron roller for sheets and her hand iron for guests’ clothes. Her work was half art, half performance.
In those days, washing was a full-day ritual. She would haul great bundles of linen to the outdoor washhouse, where sheets were boiled in a copper cauldron before being hung to dry in the sécherie a wooden drying shed with slatted sides that perfumed the air with sun-warmed soap.

Mme Déglon, and the Art of Lunch
The kitchen, however, was the true heart of the Chalet and Mme Déglon was its undisputed queen. Elegant, efficient, and unflappable, she produced meals that guests still dream about: her homemade crisps were legendary, and her Sunday lunches followed a ritual of hors d’œuvre, beautifully underdone roast beef for the English clientele, spaghetti with melted Gruyère, fresh vegetables, and a generous selection of cheese.
When Mme Déglon was away, Mme Martin (or possibly Martha, depending on who you asked) took over. She was a whirlwind of energy, laughter, and gossip the Chalet’s unofficial news service. Between stirring soups and plating puddings, she could update you on every scandal from Montreux to Château-d’Oex.

Violette and the Infamous Egg Incident
In the scullery worked Violette, the ever-smiling washer-upper, loyal lieutenant to Mme Déglon. She washed dishes, prepared vegetables, and packed the guests’ picnics each carefully wrapped and always including a hard-boiled egg.
One day, young Nicho full of mischief liked to crack his egg dramatically on his head. His siblings, Sebastian and Marcella, convinced Violette to replace it with a raw one, promising she wouldn’t get in trouble. She agreed barely able to contain her laughter and the moment Nicho’s egg exploded over his hair became an instant Grand Chalet legend.

Gilberte, the Fashionable Maid
Then there was Gilberte, young, elegant, and stylish even while making beds and serving tea. She was the only chambermaid in Rossinière who could pull off a pencil skirt while balancing a tray of teacups, though she complained endlessly that she couldn’t climb the Chalet’s endless stairs without splitting her seams.

Rosa, the “General Dogsbody”
Just before the hotel closed, a new recruit arrived Rosa, a bright young Israeli woman who wore a T-shirt that read, “I am the general dogsbody.” Efficient, unflappable, and possessed of a dry wit, she quickly became indispensable.

The Final Feast
When the Grand Chalet finally closed its doors in 1976, Tony and Phyllis hosted one last lunch for the staff — and this time, the Devenish family waited on them. The first course, soup, proved a poor choice, as much of it ended up on laps rather than in bowls, but the mood was jubilant. The menu continued with Boeuf Wellington and the house speciality, Délice du Grand Chalet.
After the plates were cleared, the “Gypsy Queen”, a maid whose real name no one quite remembered, treated everyone to an impromptu performance of songs, jokes, and memories, her voice rising through the rafters. Laughter filled the dining room once more, the perfect finale to the life of a house that had always been full of it.
The Grand Chalet may now belong to history, but its spirit endures in the stories of those who lived and worked there. Its rooms once rang with the hum of friendship and the clatter of everyday miracles, a reminder that even the grandest houses are made not of wood and stone, but of people and laughter.

LUCINDA BROUSSE