The heady social whirl that Austrian high society continues to enjoy reaches its glittering apogee in this historic bash.

Diamond of the season: of the over 400 balls that take place in Vienna each winter, the Opera Ball is 'a very big deal'.

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 Edited by |Alexander Yaxina

Culture section - CJ journalist

WORLD - April,13,2023

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   social chatter tends to dwell on the robots that will take our jobs or the shortage of tomatoes. It’s hard to believe that elsewhere in Europe, in 2023, people are preparing to waltz.

Yet more improbable is the fact that an entire social season, consisting of more than 400 balls every winter, still thrives in modern Vienna. Each of these occasions is characterized by an opening ceremony featuring a procession of debutantes and at least one quadrille.

Smiles pinned to their faces, 72 rows of girls and boys glide onto the floor to the tune of Chopin’s Polonaise 

‘It’s the only state ball,’ explains Maryam Yeganehfar, an event planner who is on the organizing committee. ‘Officially the ball only begins when the President of Austria enters the room.’

The event is also unique because it takes place in the Wiener Staatsoper – an enormous opera house first opened in 1869 and rebuilt after bomb damage in 1945. The Wiener Opernball, as it is known locally, has been running in its current form since 1935, although the first Opera House soirée took place in 1877, and the Viennese tradition of legendary balls dates back to 1814.

It’s easy to get swept up in the collective enthusiasm for this event, which is impressive in its scale and fairytale-like in its grandeur. But just as there are Brits who don’t tune in for royal weddings, there are also many Austrians who would happily abolish the balls. There are protests against this one, advertised by Eat the Rich posters slapped up around the city.

Ball season may be part of the country’s cultural heritage, but it isn’t for everyone.

The Wiener Opernball, as it is known locally, has been running in its current form since 1935.

Only the state has the power to cancel the ball, and it has done so during three periods of crisis: the Second World War, the Gulf War, and the Covid-19 restrictions.

Today marks a triumphant return: no ball has been held since 2020. ‘Everybody is super excited that they can go out again,’ says Yeganehfar. ‘It’s a big thing in a season when it’s normally grey and sad. These balls give joie de vivre back to the people.’

‘There’s nothing like the Vienna Opera Ball – there’s nothing in the world that even nearly resembles it,’

The government’s box is at the head of the room, with the view. Two seats are reserved for Alexander Van der Bellen, the Austrian president, and his wife, Doris Schmidauer.

When they arrive, at 10 pm, the ball officially begins, with fanfare and the national anthem played by the Vienna Opera Ball Orchestra. Then the conductor strikes up Chopin’s Polonaise in A major, and the debutants begin to file onto the dance floor. They arrive in 72 rows, each consisting of two girls in white dresses and gloves, flanked by two boys in black tailcoats – and move down the room in tiny, rhythmic steps, smiles pinned to their faces.

This day has been a long time coming for the debutants, who are between the ages of 18 and 25. They have had to apply, audition, and then rehearse under the direction of the Santner dance school.

‘It’s a big thing in some of the families in Austria,’ explains Yeganehfar. ‘It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.’

Each deb wears an identical tiara, decorated with a cluster of stars made from 435 crystals.

Swarovski's creative director Giovanna Engelbert’s design for the tiaras was inspired by Franz Xaver Winterhalter’s 1865 portrait of the glamorous and tragic Austrian Empress Elisabeth, known as Sisi.

The debs eventually move to the edges of the dance floor to make way for other performers, while a television camera orbits the action. Dancers from the Vienna State Ballet perform to music by Joseph Lanner and Johann Strauss, and a children’s choir from the Vienna State Opera school sings.

In the ceremony’s climactic moment, shortly before 11 pm, the debutants return to the floor to dance, culminating in a waltz to the Blue Danube. You’d have to be stony-hearted not to be stirred: by that music, those hopeful faces, and the anxiously rehearsed steps. The audience bursts into applause and cheering.

Eventually, a shout of ‘Alles Walzer!’ signals that the dance floor is now open to all. Flunkeys remove the ropes, and everybody rushes in. I spot two same-sex couples twirling beneath the chandelier and remember that we’re not in 1935 anymore.

These Austrians undeniably have stamina: the ball continues until 5 am and nobody seems at all interested in going home.

He no longer lives here but couldn’t resist returning for the event. ‘Culture is preserved in aspic here,’ he says, and he means it as a compliment. ‘They cherish their history, and I think the rest of the world looks to them for that.’

That said, as Yeganehfar explains, the ball committee is taking gentle steps to evolve.

‘There are some traditions we will never change,’ she says, ‘but we wanted to use this two-year break to bring in some fresh air. We’ve introduced a club, for example, because one of the main aims is to attract a younger generation.’

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