Viva Italia! Inside the health retreat in the Dolomites that doesn’t skimp on carbs

Arguably the most hilarious anecdote in Amy Odell’s biography of Gwyneth Paltrow, published last summer, hails from the actress’s high-school yearbook. Gwyneth’s ‘worst fear’, according to classmates, was obesity: an answer that turned out to be prescient. ‘The day I tried on the fat suit,’ she said 11 years later of her role as the corpulent Rosemary, in 2001’s Shallow Hal, ‘I walked through the lobby of the Tribeca Grand… It was so sad… so disturbing. No one would even look at me.’

During the pandemic, Gwyneth started drinking ‘seven nights a week’, admitted to ‘making pasta’ and — worst of all — to ‘eating bread’. I hate to think what she would have made of the health retreat I attended earlier this summer, in which wine and focaccia were served with every meal and no one seemed to care much about calories.

Health-oriented hotels tend to be self-selecting when it comes to the clientele, yet at LEFAY Resort & Spa Dolomiti, things are quite different. It offers something of an antidote to the asceticism of today’s more ‘cutting-edge’ programmes: the atmosphere is warm and sociable; the feeling not of privation, but of growth. Our culture tends to view health pursuits as inherently monastic — a red herring contiguous with the switch from wellbeing to wellness. The change in suffix is important: it indicates an effort to theorise, to tame, to domesticate. A managerial approach to the body, rather than an explorative one.

The wellness industrial complex, currently valued at $6.8 trillion (about £5.06 trillion), has made a fortune of selling expensive and often dubious versions of health that subtract more than they add. Actual foods are swapped for supplements. Chemical peels remove layers of our skin with the aim of keeping us young — yet without, for such, stopping the sands of time. This wasn’t always the case. Wellbeing in the 1970s extolled the virtue of acid trips. The Ancient Romans believed nudity and occasional banqueting were conducive to vigor.

LEFAY attempts to find a middle-ground between the two: somewhere that pushes you out of your comfort zone while presenting you with health in every form — including the sort of meals that bring a smile to your face rather than a grimace (‘but it’s good for you… just tell it yourself it’s good for you’). The sheer size of the site — a whopping 27,280 square metres, plus 2,377 square metres of outside space — is the reason it can offer things in such abundance: aromatic saunas, sensory waterfalls, phytotherapy, ice pools, a tepidarium, a calidarium, salt pools, and yet more besides.

LEFAY sits in an unenviably competitive region of Italy. Yet it stands out, notably, for its commitment to the landscape. ‘The properties are designed to allow less dispersion of heat and energy outside,’ the receptionist explains. ‘Both the original property on Lake Garda and this one in the Dolomites face south, and the large glass windows that feature in both resorts allow natural light to flood the rooms and common areas while providing a high level of thermal insulation. The heating and cooling of rooms is achieved through low-temperature radiant systems installed within the floors and ceilings’ — a system which prevents both draughts and noise.

There are three swimming pools, one one of which is divided between indoor and outdoor areas, and all of which are heated. A small, cavernous sauna for stretching post-workout sits beside a large, Finnish sauna with views of the mountains. Some find it overwhelming. ‘I don’t think my parents would enjoy this,’ my travel companion notes. ‘It’s all a bit woo-woo for them. They prefer when things feel simple.’

To fully enjoy LEFAY, one ideally does need to commit. It demands a certain surrender to the spirit of the place: to float in saline water and appreciate how different smells impact how we think or meditate. Still, the creature comforts are far greater here — and the novelty factor more accessible — than in rival outlets like the Mayr Clinic. A garden bustling with insect life encircles the Finnish sauna and frames the Dolomites beyond. A gym occupies the lower ground floor and a spa offering myriad treatments the second.

One is permitted to dip in and out of the extracurriculars. Many guests are not here for the indicatively-named Active Balance programme, but simply to enjoy a week in the Alps — an increasingly popular destination in summer among travellers fleeing the canicular conditions of the seaside. For those unsure of committing to the max, the health programme can be tailored. The canonical version is five-days long, but occasionally is shortened to three.

At every stage, participants are joined by guides, be it a masseuse or the trekker in the mountains. Before the spa-based activities begin in the afternoon, mornings are usually spent outdoors: participants are shuttled to the Dolomites for hikes, cold plunges and various grounding exercises, and shown the rare and precious beauty of the region through its flora and fauna (even I, a notorious cynic, was convinced to hug a few trees). The guides hail from Mountain Friends, a local school of hiking and mountaineering. Ours was a 23-year-old firecracker named Andrea: a competitive skier who did not mince her words, pushed us out of our comfort zone and made sure we got as much out of the experience as we possibly could.

Still, overall, the Active Balance programme promotes a kinder and more accommodating approach to living well than health retreats usually allow. It is underpinned by the belief that asceticism is inimical to la dolce vita, and that relaxation is as vital to wellbeing as exercise. Our quest for health and happiness cannot have too much of one without the other. In other words: every Yin needs its Yang.

These Ancient Chinese concepts are not mentioned in a vacuum. The programme is structured around four pillars, each one rooted in Ancient Chinese medicine and one for each day you are here (an extra day is left aside for leisure and travel; the three-day programme prioritises tenets one and two). The Red Phoenix — one — is for pushing oneself; The Black Tortoise — two — for finding one’s zen; The White Tiger — three — for focus and meditation; and The Green Dragon — four — for the art of self-reflection. At the heart of this square is The Centre. ‘Each season,’ the programme notes, ‘folds for a while in the centre before on to the next’. It does, admittedly, all sound rather Goop-y.

But then you get to dinner. The main hotel restaurant is located on the third floor: an A La Carte menu rich in staples from the wider Trentino-Alto Adige region comes with wine, cocktails, and baskets of focaccia that are topped up ad infinitum. The pasta is unctuous, the sauces unrationed, and while the Active Balance programme suggests its own regimen (a four-course menu on a separate printout), the waiters give you permission to deviate from these strictures and mix and match both specialist and A La Carte meals however you see fit. A Michelin-starred restaurant occupies a smaller tranche of the third floor, which is well worth a visit on your last night here.

The service, in true Italian style, is uninvasive and unhurried: you never can forget that you are here to relax. LEFAY, in every sense, is somewhere that treats its guests like adults. You are free to be healthy just as you are free to indulge. Ashtrays adorn coffee tables on the balconies while an assortment of wine bottles make up the restaurant’s centrepiece. This understanding of wellness and hospitality as being natural bedfellows, rather than enemies, is perhaps best encapsulated in the hotel’s signature scent. Smell is the first thing you notice upon arriving at the resort: the warm, aristocratic whiff of Juniper courses through the corridors. Aromas have always been essential to wellness — the Romans, for one, exploited the healing properties of rosewater and myrrh. Alongside aromatic saunas enveloping punters in scents of frankincense and orange, the smells of the kitchen — of grilled meats and pasta sauces — are equally vital, wafting through the dining room akin to an embrace.

It is a tribute to its founders, Domenico Alcide and Liliana Leali, that LEFAY can operate at both such a scale and such a level of excellence. The hotel in the Dolomites counts 88 suites and 21 residences — all of which were built, remarkably, in under two years. Its maximum occupancy stands at 258, a number it has reached each winter since opening in 2019. The neighbouring village of Madonna di Campiglio has long been a favourite of the Italian ski set — yet in high summer, when out-of-season construction projects tend to blight the resort, punters flock instead to Pinzolo. With the Active Balance programme, the Lealis hope their hotel will become even more popular.

Deluxe suites start from €835 euros per night in high season, on a bed and breakfast basis. Visit the LEFAY website for more information and to book.