Resort towns take note: How Aspen took on its affordable housing crisis—and (mostly) won.
words :: David Loopstra
For decades, Aspen, Colorado has been the poster child of mountain-town glitz—ski chalets with $40 million price tags, celebrities sipping pinot at altitude and high fashion floating through snowflakes. But underneath the glamour lies a very different story: one of municipal grit, policy innovation and a rare kind of civic backbone. This is the story of how Aspen carved out a space for the people who keep this mountain town alive—and became the affordable housing bastion inspiring similar destinations in the US and Canada.
It’s one of those pre-storm winter days in the Elk range of the Rocky Mountains, where the town of Aspen, Colorado sits at 7,908 feet above sea level and night-time temps fall as low as -28C—definitely making indoor sleeping arrangements a must-have—and two very different conversations about accommodation in Aspen are occurring simultaneously.
First, up top of Aspen Mountain, Lucretia, 53, a realtor from Miami originally from Colombia, and her friend Ana are posing for a Mountain Life photographer.
(“We saw them, and we needed their photo,” the photographer mused later.)
“We are staying at the St. Regis,” explains Lucretia, name-dropping one of Aspen’s many lux hotels where mid-winter rates top $2500 USD per night. “And we are looking at real estate. We come for two weeks every winter—sometimes two weeks every summer, too. Summers here are just beautiful. So we just want our own place, you know?”
“We are staying at the St. Regis,” explains Lucretia, name-dropping one of Aspen’s many lux hotels where mid-winter rates top $2500 USD per night.
Meanwhile down at the airport, Tyler, a shuttle driver for Aspen Meadows Resort, tosses this writer’s ski bags into the back of the shuttle, accepts a $20 tip, and prepares to dispense some key information—both about how he affords to live in this paradise, and also where the best stashes of powder are. Tyler explains that his apartment—a one-bedroom unit in a complex called Truscott Place, perched on the edge of the Roaring Fork River—costs him $1,200 a month. In Aspen.
Asked how that’s possible, he laughs a bit and says, ”long story.”
(But for powder? That’s an easier answer. “Anywhere man, on a powder day, but Split Tree Glades at Snowmass hold secret stashes and Buttermilk is always overlooked because it’s more for families, so you can get fresh tracks midday right under the lifts.”)
“OK, tell us how this affordable housing thing works,” another traveller from Canada in the shuttle asks, equally curious.
“It’s not luxury,” Tyler says, turning down one of Aspen’s perfectly designed boulevards. “But it’s safe. It’s clean. It’s close. And I can actually live where I work.”
That simple truth—living where you work—is now a rarity in many ski towns. But in Aspen, it’s the result of more than four decades of careful, often contentious, housing policy. And for many who follow the intertwined issues of gentrification, sustainability and rural labour, Aspen has become something of a case study: a rare place where the town didn’t just survive its housing crisis, but flourished because of it.
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The seeds of Aspen’s affordable housing program were sown in the 1970s. By then, the town’s growing popularity had already sent real estate prices soaring. Ski instructors, bartenders and teachers—people who built the culture and economy of Aspen—were being priced out. Many were commuting from as far away as Glenwood Springs, over 40 miles down-valley.
“Back then? Aspen was a ghost town at night,” says Bob Duncan, a real estate investor from Fresno, California, who dispensed some key insider information on the gondola up Snowmass one powder day. “The people who made the town function couldn’t afford to live here anymore. So locals had to live down the highway.”
“The people who made the town function couldn’t afford to live here anymore. So locals had to live down the highway.”
Duncan is a true Aspen aficionado. He’s 64, and a die-hard fan. He’s bought and sold real estate in Aspen for the last 20 years. “Let’s just say that that [real estate investing in Aspen] has helped me reach my current goal. I’m retired, man. I don’t need to own. I just rent hotel rooms now.
“Could I get cheaper accommodation up in Idaho, or Montana? Yes, but really? Is it Aspen? Aspen is unmatched in the USA. The best restaurants, ski town vibe, and man, the skiing here is incredible. I mean, four mountains? There’s a reason they call it Buttermilk, man. It’s creamy. And skiing through aspen trees is just unreal.”
In 1974, the city passed its first ordinance requiring developers to contribute to affordable housing stock. A few years later, it created the Aspen/Pitkin County Housing Authority (APCHA)—a public-private partnership tasked with overseeing what would eventually become one of the most comprehensive affordable housing programs in the country.
Today, APCHA owns and manages over 3,000 units of deed-restricted housing. Roughly 60 per cent of the city’s workforce lives in affordable units. The model is complex—but effective. Here’s how it works.
At the heart of Aspen’s system is a simple principle: locals first.
To qualify for a unit, applicants must work at least 1,500 hours per year within Pitkin County. Homes are categorized into income and asset brackets, with prices capped accordingly. For example, a one-bedroom condo in Category 3 (mid-level income) might sell for $210,000—about one-tenth the cost of a similar unit on the open market. The kicker? Owners can only resell the unit at a modest, regulated appreciation rate, typically around 3 per cent year.
“For APCHA, it isn’t about profit. It’s about community,” says Duncan. “They’re not just building homes—we’re preserving a functioning town.”
That town includes janitors and nurses, but also city planners, artists and entrepreneurs, who can all take advantage of free transportation courtesy of the Roaring Fork Transit Authority.
“It’s about community. They’re not just building homes—we’re preserving a functioning town.”
“The idea that a ski town can be a full-time community and a sustainable one—that’s what Aspen is preserving,” adds Duncan.
Of course, Aspen’s housing model is not without flaws.
For one, supply still doesn’t meet demand. The waitlist for some units is years long. APCHA has struggled with enforcement issues—some owners have illegally rented out units on Airbnb, or moved away while still claiming residency.
And then there’s the fairness debate. “Why should someone get a million-dollar view at a fraction of the cost just because they work at the ski hill?” one local business owner asked, requesting anonymity. “What about people who’ve been here a long time but technically don’t ‘work’ 1,500 hours a year? Retirees? Artists?”
Duncan acknowledges the tension. “It’s a balancing act. But without these controls, the market would eat this place alive. I mean look at you. You’re here, right? All of those [affordability measures] mean this place is accessible.” He smirks and continues, “even for Canadians with your dollar.”
In Aspen, the focus is on sustainability. The message on the billboard welcoming visitors at the airport says it all: Aspen. Defy Ordinary. The campaign was designed by the Aspen Chamber Resort Association (ACRA), a hybrid of a chamber of commerce and a destination marketing organization. The messages then go on to feature Aspen locals reciting the Aspen Pledge: “I will find adventure, but not venture off marked trails,” says one.
“All of those [affordability measures] mean this place is accessible…even for Canadians with your dollar.”
“I will remain in one piece by leaving the wildlife in peace,” says another. They are aimed at sustainability in all senses, and affordability is a key part of that—also, surprisingly when it comes to climate change. Affordable housing near town doesn’t just strengthen the community—it reduces traffic and emissions. Commuters from the lower valley spend hours on the road each day, contributing to greenhouse gases and clogging Aspen’s narrow roads.
In fact, the Aspen Skiing Company, which owns the resort, has worked hand-in-hand with city officials to incorporate energy-efficient design into new workforce housing, installing solar panels and air-source heat pumps in newer housing complexes.
Aspen has been recognized for its dedication to sustainable tourism. In 2024, the city earned the Mountain IDEAL certification, acknowledging its commitment to environmental stewardship and sustainable destination management. Furthermore, ACRA’s efforts led to Aspen being featured in the 2023 Green Destinations Top 100 Stories, a global list recognizing innovative sustainable tourism practices.
Aspen’s model isn’t perfect. But it’s working. And it means that, for tourists like the Mountain Life crew from Canada, Aspen is easy to navigate. It’s clean, fun, accessible and staffed with friendly, knowledgeable locals. And for a ski resort boasting an average of 66 snowfall days per year, that’s about as good as it gets.
Other resort towns, including all the ML backyards, are watching closely. Some have already adopted elements of the APCHA playbook: deed restrictions, employee housing requirements and caps on short-term rentals.
• • •
Back on the shuttle to Aspen Meadows, Tyler smiles and says there’s more snow in the forecast.
“It’s coming tomorrow, man,” he says. “Wait ‘til you experience an Aspen powder day.” When he’s done driving the shuttle, Tyler is headed to his evening work as a server at a local high-end restaurant. But he’s living his best life. He doesn’t start work until 2 p.m. tomorrow, so he’s getting a satisfying mountain day first.
“Tomorrow is going to be sick, man,” he says. “I hope you are stoked.”
(And by the way, it was: snow like buttermilk, creamy, not crowded—perfect.) And up at the peak of the mountain, Lucretia and Ana ski off. They’re on their way back to the St. Regis and then to RAKxa spa, which lives up to its name for some high-end treatments.
That’s the real mountain dream. For everyone. And in Aspen, against all odds, they’re keeping it alive—defying ordinary.
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