This historic Beaux Arts building in Kalorama is well-known and coveted as one of the best buildings in the city, and one of the hardest ones to get into. This building is like that successful, beautiful friend we all have who’s single for, like, a week-and-a-half every four years before they’re grabbed off the market again. The sun’s been in eclipse for more time, total, over the past fifteen years than they’ve been single. You’ve basically got to show up to the first date with a ring and prenup in your back pocket. That’s this place. Dating from the Gilded Age, this building has been home to Presidents (okay, William Taft, but still technically a President), entertainer Lena Horne (source of the most insightful but also funniest quote from a grandmother ever), George McGovern, and various other people you’ve never heard of but were still wealthy enough that your monthly salary is less than their monthly sock budget.
This unit, #52, is one of the largest in the building at 3400 square feet, a fact you should definitely work into every conversation you have with people who live in smaller units in the building. It’s undergone a modernizing renovation, but has kept a lot of the original details intact, like the moldings, the floors (quarter-sawn oak parquet), and the plaster festoons, which sounds like something that’s made up, but I googled it and it’s actually a thing. Go figure. You enter into an elegant marbled vestibule, off of which is the former maid’s bedroom and bathroom. Your teenager is going to push hard for this bedroom, but don’t even think about it unless you enjoy late night calls to come to the police station and/or conversations that start with the teenager saying, “I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I really think I’m ready to be a parent.” The huge foyer opens onto the formal dining room, the library, and the living room; this place was open plan before “open plan” was even a thing. This space was very clearly designed for entertaining, so if you move in here, make sure you stock up on those plastic hooks you put on the insides of your cheeks to pull the corners of your mouth up into a fake smile like Jack Nicholson in “Batman.” These rooms are all equally lavish, at a level I’d peg somewhere above “professional athlete” but just below “minor royalty,” if that helps.
The boomerang-shaped kitchen is elite-tier; if you’re a person who doesn’t cook, you probably shouldn’t live here, or wherever you are in the house you’ll feel the eyes of this professional-grade kitchen burning into the back of your neck until you snap and leap out the window, like an interior design variation of an Edgar Allan Poe story. There’s a ton of (marble) counterspace, stainless steel appliances, and two sinks, one of them with a high-pressure restaurant-style handheld water jet that you’ll inevitably squirt your significant other in the face with while they’re trying to explain how they only opened the Tinder account you found on their unlocked phone because they “just wanted to see what’s out there.” Upstairs, the master bedroom has views galore (“Views Galore” would be a great/horrible name for a window store), with two walls of windows and plenty of room for thirty or forty knee-high piles of clothes, which is the clothing organization system I prefer. Or yes, you could use the world-class walk-in closet. The master bath is a gorgeous masterpiece of marble and glass, i.e. the two materials you least want to slip and fall onto. Wear shower shoes with good traction. Oh, and there’s also a bidet. I offer that fact without further comment.
There’s a 24-hour desk and concierge, so every single late-night/early morning “walk of shame” will be silently observed, noted, and judged. The expansive rooftop deck has views of the Washington Monument and Washington Cathedral (two places you’ll rarely look at and never visit), and there’s a gym and catering kitchen for residents, two amenities that sort of work in tandem if you think about it. And keep in mind, there are only 24 other residents in the entire building. That means awkward elevator/lobby interactions will be minimal, if not nonexistent. That alone is worth the $2 million.
2029 Connecticut Avenue NW #52
4 Beds, 4 Baths