One month after flames devoured the Le Constellation bar in the glamorous Swiss ski resort of Crans-Montana, turning a jubilant New Year’s Eve celebration into a chamber of horrors, survivor Eleonora Palmieri has finally spoken out from her hospital bed. The 29-year-old Italian veterinarian, her face and hands severely burned and disfigured, shared a raw, emotional account of the night that claimed 41 lives and left over 100 others scarred for life—physically and psychologically. In a poignant interview and social media posts from her Milan hospital room, Palmieri described the terrifying moment when panic erupted: crowds shoving and trampling one another toward the exit, only to slam into a locked or jammed door that sealed their fate in the smoke-choked basement.

The fire erupted shortly after midnight on January 1, 2026, during peak New Year’s festivities. Investigators pinpoint the spark to massive sparklers attached to champagne bottles held too close to the flammable ceiling foam by waitstaff—a reckless stunt that ignited the decorative material in seconds. What followed was a flashover inferno: toxic smoke billowed, visibility dropped to zero, and temperatures soared. Partygoers, many young and inebriated, surged toward the narrow staircase leading to the main exit. But the path became a deadly bottleneck—witnesses and survivors like Palmieri recount a scene of pure terror where people pushed, climbed over bodies, and screamed for air as flames licked closer.

Palmieri, on holiday in the Alps with her boyfriend Filippo, had only just arrived at the bar when chaos exploded. “How did I save myself? I don’t know,” she told La Repubblica in her first major interview. “My survival instinct brought me outside.” She described being shoved backward into the room by the surging crowd desperate to escape, the air thick with acrid smoke and the roar of fire drowning out cries. In the crush, she suffered severe burns to her face, hands, and arms—likely from direct flame contact or superheated air as she fought through the melee. Her boyfriend carried her out at the last possible moment, both collapsing outside amid the snow as emergency services arrived.

The locked door—or what many survivors describe as an effectively blocked or locked secondary exit—has become a focal point of outrage. Reports indicate a service door that could have served as an alternate escape route was secured, forcing everyone through the single narrow staircase and revolving front door. In the stampede, bodies piled up at the entrance, trapping dozens inside as fire consumed the space. “People were pushing so hard, climbing over each other,” Palmieri recalled in fragments shared with media. “We were all trying to reach the door, but it felt like the exit had vanished—locked, jammed, something. The screams… I’ll never forget the screams.” Her words echo accounts from other survivors who broke windows or were pulled out by rescuers, only to watch friends perish behind them.

Palmieri’s injuries required immediate transfer from Swiss facilities to specialized hospitals in Italy—first Cesena, then Milan—for advanced burn treatment, including grafts and therapy for respiratory damage from inhaling toxic fumes. Photos she courageously posted on Instagram show her face heavily bandaged, hands wrapped like mittens, yet she clings to gratitude: “I want to say thank you to those who never let go of my hand: to my family, my safe haven, and to my boyfriend who stayed with me even in that hospital room.” She also paid tribute to the victims, writing that her soul needs far longer to heal than her body. “I didn’t just survive the fire—I carry it with me every day.”

The tragedy at Le Constellation has exposed shocking lapses: illegal renovations, flammable materials unchecked, overcrowding in a basement venue designed for far fewer patrons, and questionable safety protocols. A video leaked weeks before the fire showed faulty ceiling work, and owners face scrutiny over negligence. The death toll rose to 41 when an 18-year-old succumbed to injuries in early February. Many survivors, including Palmieri, face years of reconstructive surgery, psychological trauma, and nightmares that replay the crush and locked exit.

Crans-Montana, a glittering Alpine escape for the wealthy, remains in shock. Vigils continue, with candles flickering against snow-covered streets. Families of the dead demand justice, while survivors like Palmieri embody resilience amid ruin. Her disfigured face, once full of life, now bears the visible scars of a night gone horribly wrong—but her voice, strong and clear, warns of preventable horror.

As investigations deepen and calls for stricter venue regulations echo across Europe, Palmieri’s story stands as a stark reminder: in seconds of panic, a single locked door can turn celebration into catastrophe. One month on, her healing journey has barely begun, but her courage in speaking out ensures the victims’ screams will not be silenced.