The intoxication of the waltz

A year ago, I attended the 46th Stanford Viennese Ball at the San Francisco Marriott Marquis with no preparation and no expectations. I walked through the doors and found myself at the edge of a dance floor that seemed to breathe with light and motion. Men in sharp black suits and women in flowing white gowns moved through choreographed formations with an almost architectural precision. Then the colors came — men and women in every shade of the rainbow, dressed in Victorian finery, swirling like...