Paul Bauer

There was a fairy tale I loved as a little girl called The Twelve Dancing Princesses.

He wanted to marry his daughters off, and until then, ensure they lived chaste, cloistered lives.

I adored this tale of faraway forests of magic and clandestine dancing.

A large group of traditional Vienna Waltz dancers take the floor at the ball

Credit:Paul Bauer

For me, I wanted to one day go to a ball.

I had come to fulfill my fairy tale, to attend the Vienna Philharmonic Ball.

I had come to the Austrian capital with the idea of balls swirling in my head.

People walking on evening Graben street - one of the main and famous pedestrian streets in Vienna, illuminated and decorated for Christmas holidays.

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The city exists both in a preserved state of beauty and on the cutting edge of modernity.

They waltz across the dance floors to the strains of Aram Khachaturians Masquerade Suite.

Its longing, wistful, demanding, full of questions.

A couple walks down the red carpet stairs at the Vienna Waltz Ball

Paul Bauer

My skin puckers in goosebumps; I notice tears on the face of the woman next to me.

The hall is silent, as if inhaling together.

The music plays on and time seems to stand still.

View of the crowds and orchestra at the Vienna Waltz Ball

Paul Bauer

Thousands of fresh flowers perfume the hall with a rosy scent.

Can you learn to waltz in one afternoon?

Can you learn to speak a language in a day?

Austria’s Vienna Waltz winter ball preparation with formal dresses

Paul Bauer

These things dont ultimately matter.

Soon its midnight and all the guests gather to dance a quadrille.

Its 3 a.m. and the hall is still bursting with people.

The author dances the waltz at the ball in Vienna, Austria

Paul Bauer

My jet lag is a moot point.

Im waltzing or at least trying to.

I talk with a couple whove traveled from Virginia to be here.

I take a photo of an Austrian couple, but the lighting doesnt quite come out right.

Its okay, the woman tells me.

Its just to remember the feeling.

The ball, the night, the city itself, seem to be without beginning or end.

Its getting later all the time.

I dont want the magic to end.

I notice a woman slipping a note to a taxi dancer before heading home.

A middle-aged couple exchange phone numbers.

Like all fairy tales, this ball would have to come to an end.

The clock struck 5 a.m.

Couples moved more slowly across the dance floor.

The ball, and all of its fairy dust, was ending.

And just like that, the forest of silver regrows.

And the night feels new and your shoes are yet to be tattered.

Like a first love or a story from childhood, it will stay with you.

If youre lucky, youll never recover.