Past reflections…

Austria is beautiful, and Vienna is magnificent. The Habsburg dynasty’s signature is everywhere – elegant, impressive, and yet somehow humble and welcoming. It’s no surprise, then, that every January, the city hosts the Technical Ball, one of the most elegant events in the world.

Held in the grand halls of the Hofburg, the former imperial residence, nearly four thousand guests gather to dance in pairs. She will wear a long evening gown, white gloves, and subtly beautiful jewellery – combining the natural magic of physical grace with the blossoming of the soul. He will wear a tailcoat, white tie, and black shoes. Some may don military uniforms, linking the present to a time when a man’s role as a guarantor of peace went unquestioned. It is in this spirit that he leads the dance.

“Elegance, after all, is often born of quiet struggle. Couples aim for perfection.”

Together, they strive to embody the effortless elegance of Karlheinz Böhm and Romy Schneider in Sisi, as they waltz the ballroom away. Yet this appearance of ease hides hard work and dedication. Elegance, after all, is often born of quiet struggle. Couples aim for perfection. Majesty may not come naturally, but hope allows us to reach for it.

We are aiming to join next year. My personal goal is simply to avoid ridicule – majesty feels far beyond me. My wife and I are three sessions into our 12-lesson programme at Tanzschule Tanzstern in Salzburg. Judging by our current progress, ridicule at the Ball seems all but inevitable.

This is no reflection on our teachers, who are patient, encouraging, and deeply understanding. They guide us with love and praise. But as the weeks pass, my anxiety grows. My lack of grace hides behind my wife’s supportive gaze. She understands how fragile a man’s ego can be – and she really wants to go. Naturally, she takes to the rhythm, swirling and smiling. To my eyes, she’s already ready for the Ball.

And so, while no one is watching, I practice alone. In my office, on the pavement, in the park – I lead an invisible partner, hoping each step gets me closer to surviving the night.

I even turned to Thomas, a Viennese banker, for guidance. I shared my aspiration. He smiled and said, “Ah, the Technical Ball!” Then he paused too long. “You see,” he continued, “it took me ages to rustle up the courage to ask this lovely lady to dance. There we stood, full of excitement. I led with a right waltz.” He grinned. “In Vienna, though, the first step is always left.”

“She pulled one way, I the other. And there, in the middle of the dance floor, I pulled her down – we both fell.”

My heart stopped. The clock ticks louder with every passing moment. And honestly, I’m not sure where to run.