This Wardman townhouse in Kalorama is one of the best pieces of Harry Wardman’s huge body of work, which somehow encompasses all the best and worst buildings in DC. I feel like you can look at Wardman’s houses and pick out which ones he designed mid-afternoon on a Friday after three beers and a Chipotle burrito, and which ones he designed on a Tuesday morning after ten hours of sleep and half an Adderall. This is one of the latter. A lot of luxury homes I look at, I wouldn’t actually want to live in; they’re too sterile, or stuffy, or pastel-y, or something. But this one, I would definitely pretend to love a wealthy heiress or Powerball winner for a year or two to live in this one, maybe longer if they traveled a lot.
The stately facade has vaguely Elizabethan overtones – at least, that’s what I said to impress my girlfriend before we went inside. (Her only reply was to look at me for three or four seconds and then spit on the ground.) There’s a high privacy wall and iron gate, so if you ever get caught, like, sexting a Starbucks barista, the paparazzi will have to wait way out on the sidewalk. If I was a politician or celebrity, I wouldn’t live anywhere without a high privacy wall out front. Inside, there are extremely high ceilings and expansive rooms; if the average rowhouse is a Beagle, this townhouse is a Siberian Husky. Through the living room (which features an antique fireplace), you come to a sort of long library-slash-sitting room, which has an entire long wall of built-ins across from a seating alcove. There’s even one of those wooden library ladders attached to a rail so it can slide down or fall off; I was sorely tempted to climb on and have my girlfriend push me across the room, but I swear the agent read my mind and was ready to mace me with the aerosol bottle of “Chocolate Chip Cookie” aroma open house spray. (Yes, the stories are true.) Also – this section of the home, all the way back through the kitchen, features track lighting. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see track lighting back, after so many years of recessed lighting. Recessed lighting, at this point, is like cargo shorts. Everyone’s sick of looking at them. Track lighting looks fresh again, like Doc Martens or everything in an old Delia’s catalog. Everything is cyclical.
The kitchen features high-end stainless steel appliances and tons of cabinet space; I guarantee that no matter what you’re looking for, you’ll open the wrong cabinet a minimum of four times before finding it. Is it possible to have too much cabinet space? (This is turning into a late night dorm room talk at interior design college.) There’s also no island, which, like the track lighting, is refreshing. Islands seem so practical, but usually all they’re good for is a place to throw unopened mail, or something for your significant other to lean against as they scroll away on their phone and say things like, “are you sure that oil’s not too hot? This recipe says you should – hey, where are you going, what’s wrong?” The master bedroom has a ton of windows and closet space, and the master bath features twin side-by-side basins for competitive moisturizing, and a combination glass-walled shower/soaking tub. Multiple showers in the house also have windows of that thick, semi-frosted glass, so the neighbors won’t be able to see who exactly is in the shower, only that they seem to be “lathering up” certain body areas more vigorously than others. Downstairs, the basement is a fully-finished apartment that’s so nice you may start pointless arguments with your spouse just so you can move down there for a few days. There’s also a wooden roof deck for stargazing, and two rear-facing decks for doing, I don’t know, whatever people do on decks. How would I know, I’m just a lowly blogger who lives in a basement. Not that I’m bitter.
2631 Garfield Street NW
6 Bedrooms, 3.5 Baths