How the 19th century Princess Diana gave me inspiration for my travel itinerary
By Mary O'Brien
Standing in a small museum on the grounds of Vienna’s sprawling SchÖnbrunn Palace, I’m staring at a beautiful dress that has the teeniest waist imaginable. It’s most likely the long-lost wedding dress of Sisi, the royal rebel who married an emperor at 16 and whose colourful life has inspired movies and shows, including Netflix’s popular series, The Empress.
Sisi, or Elisabeth, often referred to as a 19th-century Princess Diana, was obsessed with her appearance. She had a 50-centimetre waist, followed an exercise regime and adopted a strict diet. I actually feel breathless looking at the petite dress, which seems to shine in the dimly lit interior of the Imperial Carriage Museum.
The beautiful gold-and-silk wedding train is original, acquired from a descendant of the royal family, but the wedding dress Sisi wore has been a mystery until recently.
Museum director Monica Kurzel-Runtscheiner, who spent years trying to track down the wedding dress, says there were no trustworthy descriptions of it as the royal wedding was private. By chance, a Spanish researcher discovered an 1857 portrait of Sisi in a wedding dress and train in the Czech Republic. Once the portrait was verified, the director found someone to replicate the dress’s design. While this was definitely one of Sisi’s dresses, the director is still hoping to prove it was worn at the wedding.
Later, when I visit the Sisi Museum, part of the huge Hofburg Palace, the Empress really comes alive. The Sisi myth started when Emperor Franz Joseph fell in love with his 15-year-old cousin and insisted on marrying her – not her sister, as planned.
It was a love match that captivated Europe and the museum contains more than 300 of Sisi’s personal items. It’s fascinating to see the timber gymnastic apparatus on which she worked out, much to the horror of the court. A silver brush that was used on her ankle-length hair is on display, as are the instruments she used to care for her teeth.
I see the desk where she wrote poetry and learn about some of her bizarre beauty routines: for example, she slept with slices of raw veal on her face. Next, I stroll to the Church of the Augustinian Friars, where Sisi and Franz Joseph were married. There’s an evocative smell of incense and the bells are ringing as I enter. The church, renowned for its music, dates from the 14th century and was redone in its now-gothic interior in the 18th century.
Vienna is also famous for its grand 19th-century cafes. I pass the queue at the iconic Cafe Central and head instead to Demel, a cake shop on Kohlmarkt Street, one of Sisi’s favourites. She loved candied violets (sugared violet flowers still on sale today), which Mr Demel himself used to deliver to the palace. Upstairs, the cafe is buzzing and I order some Viennese favourites – a fluffy melange coffee and a slice of sachertorte.
Another sweet treat not to be missed is the Sisi sorbet at the Grand Ferdinand Hotel’s Meissl & Schadn restaurant (also a good place to try an authentic wiener schnitzel). The candied violet sorbet is served in a delicate glass, topped with berries. The waiter fetches a bottle of Austrian sparkling wine and pours a splash over the sorbet – it’s sweet, light and definitely fit for an empress.
Perhaps the most famous portrait of Sisi is the one with 27 diamond stars woven through her hair. These were designed in 1858 by Alexander Emanuel Köchert, the imperial jeweller, and are still available as rings, earrings and brooches, though they’re quite pricey: earrings start at €3700 ($6000).
The Empress loved horses and was a great rider. The Imperial Carriage Museum has dozens of portraits of her horses (whom she called her “friends”), along with her personal side-saddle. I feel quite emotional when I come to the funeral carriage, which was drawn by eight black horses. Sisi’s life came to a tragic end in 1898 when she was assassinated, aged 60, in Geneva by an anarchist, and she made her last journey in this huge carriage.
For my final stop, I take a tram along an impressive 19th-century boulevard, the Ringstrasse, and get off near the Volksgarten park in the heart of the city. I find Sisi’s memorial in a quiet corner. The white marble statue portrays her as eternally young, calmly surveying the pond and gardens with the landmarks of Vienna in the background – hopefully at peace after a troubled life.
Get the best of Sunday Life magazine delivered to your inbox every Sunday morning. Sign up here for our free newsletter.