Ah, Vienna. Such a wedding cake. How gemütlich. So warm and cozy. But when you look closer, you discover tarnish beneath the charm. Consider Austria's major cultural export, the world-famous Vienna Philharmonic, which performs later this month at Carnegie Hall under the direction of Seiji Ozawa.

Seven years ago, after being ridiculed and pressured to change its hiring policy, the orchestra said it would end its discrimination against women.

But today there are still just two non-harpist women in the ensemble: violist Ursula Plaichinger, hired in 2001, and cellist Ursula Wex, hired in 2003. All the rest of the 149 orchestra members are men. And let's not forget, neither Plaichinger nor Wex are officially members of the Philharmonic. They must first complete a three-year tenure at the Vienna State Opera.

At any rate, perhap a small grimace of congratulation is in order: The VPo also hired its first person of color last year. In Vienna, that's considered progress. After all, the VPo has had a 162-year policy of "whites only" membership. But that naturally goes unmentioned in the official narrative of the orchestra's charming history, which nevertheless manages to make sorrowful, clucking noises about its Nazi past.

Come to think of it, Philip Kerr's Berlin private eye Bernhard Gunther puts the city's charm itself in a certain perspective:

There's nothing the Viennese love more than getting "cosy." They look to achieve this conviviality in bars and restaurants, to the accompanisment of a musical quartet comprising a bass, a violin, an accordion and a zither. ... For me, this omnipresent combination embodies everything that was phoney about Vienna, like the syrupy sentiment and the affected politeness. It did make me feel cosy. Only it was the kind of cosiness you might have experienced after you had been embalmed, sealed in a lead-lined coffin, and tidily deposited in one of those marble mausoleums up at the Central Cemetery.

Painting with a broad brush? Of course.