I got invited to a party at the Austrian consulate last night. For the event, the foreign minister and his wife had two French artists install a sculpture in the ballroom. It consisted of 6,000 elaborately interwoven wire hangers, dangling from the ceiling.

They filled the room, cradled the chandeliers, and poured out over the grand staircase. At the very far end of the ballroom, they came down in a big drip, overhanging a vast, framed mirror.

There was an “X” in masking tape where you were supposed to stand, looking down into it. This was called “the ghost’s door.”

(The place is famously haunted.)

It was one of the most magical things I’ve ever seen in my life, and I am extremely cynical.