BY ALEX STORY
Austria is beautiful, Vienna magnificent.
The Habsburg dynasty’s signature is everywhere: elegant, impressive and yet humble and welcoming.
It is no surprise then that every January there takes place the Technical Ball, one of the world’s most elegant.
In the grand halls of the Hofburg, the former imperial residence, nearly four thousand guests meet to dance as couples.
She will wear a long evening gown, white gloves and subtly beautiful jewellery, matching the full magic of a woman’s natural physical beauty with that of a blossoming soul.
He will wear a tailcoat, white tie and black shoes. He might also wear a military uniform, linking the present to a past in which men’s role as guarantors of peace was not questioned. It is in this capacity that he leads the dance.
Together, they will fuse to reach the pinnacle of grace displayed by Karlheinz Böhm and Romy Schneider in Sisi as they waltzed the ballroom away.
However, the couple’s effortlessness belies sustained work and training.
Elegance is often a function of prior suffering.
Couples aim for perfection. And while one isn’t always born majestic, hope allows us to aspire to majesty.
We are aiming to join next year.
Avoiding ridicule is my personal aim, majesty being way beyond me.
My wife and I are three sessions in, having booked 12 introductory sessions at the Tanzschule Tanzstern, Salzburg.
If the current pace of progress is anything to go by, ridicule at the Technical Ball is all but guaranteed.
It is not a reflection on the quality of the teaching, quite the opposite.
The teachers lovingly and patiently guide us through our paces.
They encourage, praise and understand.
As the clock ticks, though, my anxiety grows.
My lack of progress hides behind my spouse’s loving eyes.
She too is supportive, knowing how fragile a man’s ego is. And she really wants to go.
Naturally, though, she takes to the rhythm, swirls and smiles.
To my eyes, she is ready for the ball.
So, while no one is watching, between lessons, I waltz alone.
In my office, on the pavement and in the park, I lead the proceedings.
Every extra step takes me closer, I hope, to survival at the Ball.
For support, I see Thomas, a Viennese Banker. I tell him of my aspiration. He replies in perfect English: “Ah, the Technical Ball!” … And stays silent for too long.
“You see, it took me a long time to rustle up the courage to ask this lovely lady for the first dance”, he reminisces.
“There we stood as the music started. Full of excitement, I led for a right waltz”.
“In Vienna, though”, he added, “I forgot that the first is always a left one”.
“She pulled one direction and I the other”.
“In the middle of the dance floor, I pulled her down and we both fell”.
My heart stopped. The clock keeps ticking ever louder. And I don’t know where to run!
Alex Story is an Olympian, entrepreneur and writer on economic and social issues.