"Why book Hotel Imperial? To be swept away in a fairytale whirl of 19th-century pomp and circumstance, the sort that could be soundtracked and choreographed by Baz Luhrmann, lit by chandeliers, with marble floors you want to slide across in your socks and a fleet of liveried footmen who will happily take those socks to be washed and pressed afterwards. Oh, and the cake is pretty good too: the Sacher Torte isn’t the only cake in town, you know. Set the scene It has certain allusions of grandeur, doesn’t it, the name Hotel Imperial? It could be the name of a hopelessly delusional pile in a down-at-heel English seaside resort, all crumbling stucco and luke-warm kippers… or the name of a palatial, wedding cake of a hotel where it’s always Champagne o’clock, where a tiara at breakfast wouldn’t be blinked at. Fortunately, this is the latter, set right on Vienna’s central Kärntner Ring. There are antiques and silk walls and a lobby the size of a Renaissance chapel, its main desk embossed with a depiction of Vienna’s skyline. The royal staircase (don’t get the lift) is an overture in marble, with a life-sized portrait of Emperor Franz Joseph to greet you at the top—the walls positively bristle with Habsburg-era moustaches and beards. Go up another floor and you can find one portrait where it’s the shoes, not the eyes, that follow you around—a painterly trick of perspective. But despite all the over-the-top, gold-leaf opulence of it all, this isn’t a haughty Dowager Countess of Grantham sort of place: it’s eminently approachable and just wants everyone to enjoy themselves. The backstory All too lazy to reach for a Wes Anderson Grand Hotel Budapest reference for this sort of hotel, but here the comparison is justified: Michael Moser, the hotel’s head concierge for 31 years, was the inspiration for Ralph Fiennes’ Monsieur Gustave in the film—and was even asked to appear in the film, but his duties prevented him. Moser remains the hotel archivist though, and conducts entertaining historic tours of the building, alighting on paintings and the room where Queen Elizabeth II stayed in 1969 (the bed was borrowed from an actual palace museum so that no one could sleep in it afterwards) and the life of the Prince of Wurttemberg, who built this as his Vienna residence in 1863. He only lasted a short while before down-sizing, and 10 years later it opened as a hotel in time for the World Fair, with Bismarck among the first guests; in the 1920s its Imperial Café became the hangout for pipe-chewing intellectuals and artists. After the war in 1945, it was the HQ for the Russian Army, who complained that the manager was slowly purloining its Persian rugs. Since then it’s been cleaned and buffed, and most recently renovated so its public spaces are more or less as they were in the 19th century. The rooms Not exactly shy and retiring, those with an issue with chintz may want to avert their eyes. There are velvets and flock wallpapers and drapes assembled with the sort of maximalist aesthetic that would have Barbara Cartland reaching for her sunglasses. Like the pecking order at Versailles, the Royal Suite—once the private chambers of the original Prince and with a lavishly draped but surprisingly small bed—is surrounded by lesser suites in descending order of aristocratic lineage. But even the smallest Classic Room is an escapist bubble, individually designed, with antique knick-knacks here and there, lined with parquet flooring to practice your waltz steps and illuminated by a cascading crystal chandelier. For serious imperial oomph you’ll need a junior suite or higher—231, a corner room, is a vision in soothing garden green, with chaise lounge and writing desk—while the maisonette suites, with their spiral staircases, have an appealing cosiness. Who comes here Oh, the occasional emperor and empress there, the odd head of state here, locals in Homburg hats and their Sunday best round the corner. The guest books are huge fun—they read like the index for a biography of someone even better socially connected than Princess Margaret. Who else, you wonder, would count acquaintances such as Alfred Hitchcock, Sophia Loren and Walt Disney alongside Brahms, Bryan Ferry and, um, Vladimir Putin? Billy Joel signed his entry with a goatee-and-keyboard self-portrait; Karl Lagerfeld with two elegant fashion sketches. My favorite celebrity story (courtesy of Michael Mosel) concerns Larry Hagman, aka JR Ewing of Dallas, who handed each and every member of staff a $50 note on his way out. They were all thrilled, until someone pointed out that instead of the likeness of Ulysses S Grant, the note carried the image of a certain stetson-wearing Texan oil baron… Food and drink OK, so Wiener Schnitzel (breadcrumbed, flattened veal or pork), Tafelspitz (a boiled beefy stew not for the fainthearted) and Kaiserschmarrn (a fluffy pancake dessert) are pretty much ubiquitous in Vienna and the obvious things to order, but you need to try the ones at the Thirties-style Imperial Café. (Unless you’re vegan, in which case order the red beet dumplings.) The schnitzel is one of the best in town, so large you could drape it over your knees to keep warm in winter. Afterwards, sit with your coffee and wonder what Gustav Mahler, Thomas Mann or Umberto Eco chatted about when they came here. Niki Lauda, I expect, simply made ‘vroom vroom’ noises when he sat down to his breakfast of bread with chives and a soft-boiled egg served in a glass. Egg in a glass is the thing to order. With a glass of Champagne on the side. In the wood-panelled Opus restaurant, though, chef Werner Pichlmaier creates beautiful still-life compositions using Austrian ingredients, such as a flower-strewn landscape of mushrooms, herbs and mushroom crisps, and Alpine venison, kefir and red cabbage, with a fine list of Austrian wines—which are just brilliant at the moment. The Imperial Bar, meanwhile, is to normal bars what Fabergé eggs are to Cadbury’s Creme ones. If Maria Callas wandered in and started singing a medley from Tosca it would feel entirely appropriate. A harpist plays as you nurse the signature cocktail known as The Kiss. The ingredients? Gin, limoncello, tonic and a garnish of berries and 23-carat gold dust. Of course. The neighborhood There’s a reason the Prince of Wurttemberg built his home here: the Imperial is right on the Ringstrasse, the Imperial-era boulevard that encircles the historic centre of Vienna. So all the main sights are walkable, including the Albertina Modern Art Gallery, State Opera and Karlsplatz—along with the MuseumsQuartier, set in the Habsburgs’ former stables, for Klimt, Schiele and a sprawling collection of modern art. The service You’ve seen Grand Hotel Budapest, right? There’s a small army of blue-uniformed bellhops and concierges (current head concierge Manfred Grassauer has been here 35 years) who can help arrange opera and museum tickets and restaurants around town. Your morning newspaper, of course, will arrive ironed; shoes will be polished to parade-ground shininess. Anything else to mention? Everyone should attend Vienna’s waltz-spinning, silk-spangled, baton-twirling Philharmonic Ball—a nine-hour danceathon that ends at 5am—at least once in their life, and this little place is right next to the Musikverein, the 19th-century concert hall where it takes place. The Imperial holds a Philharmonic dinner and Champagne reception beforehand, and afterwards, the waltzers return, loosening bow-ties and eating hot dogs, to sleep in late. If nothing else, it’s a fine excuse to swan around in a tuxedo or ball gown—one can never be too over-dressed at the Imperial. Is it worth it? I’ve been coming to Vienna for years, delving into its contemporary art scene and alighting on new restaurants and bars—despite its reputation as one of the classical European cities it has a fresh, youthful side, with a crop of personable boutique hotels (Motto, Josefine, Guest House) and international five-stars such as the Rosewood Vienna and Park Hyatt. The Imperial, though, is firmly in the old-school camp, alongside The Bristol and the Sacher Vienna, both with their own merits… but this is the most magical, transportive address in town. Watch The Empress on Netflix—the historical drama based on the life of Sisi, aka Empress Elizabeth of Austria—before you come for etiquette advice. Unless you live in a palace, coming down to earth after a stay here, of course, will be with a hefty bump." - Rick Jordan
