True story: I have one uber-wealthy friend with, like, near-Zuckerberg-level money, and for all the time I’ve been friends with this person, I’ve known, in the back of my mind, that at some point I can ask one favor of them that they’ll almost definitely say yes to. A Bentley, a five-star vacation to Fiji, a Jackson Pollock; I’m sure if I just casually threw it out there, they’d be like, “sure, bro, I got you.” Thing is, you can’t ask for a second favor after that, or you get moved from “friend” to “person that asks for expensive favors,” which is an extremely long list that every rich person has in the back of their mind, and if you get on that list you’re definitely not getting any texts answered, much less any Bentleys or vacations or “loans” to start your car wash or whatever. So I’ve been jealously hoarding this one golden favor – until I saw this house. Yes, I own this house now. I quit.
Ha ha! No, not really. But I did genuinely think about it. I even started writing the email. (“You know how the whole time we’ve been friends, I’ve constantly (and probably annoyingly) yammered on and on about the evils of money? Well, you’re not going to believe this…”) In the end, though, I decided against it, mostly because the property taxes on a $2.3 million house would bankrupt me immediately. Still, this house might be the best house in DC, which is not a claim I take lightly. You enter through an imposing iron gate, which has a sort of Brentwood-ish flavor. (Only able to drop that reference because I just binge-watched the O.J. miniseries.) Having a house set back and protected from the street would be priceless, especially as gentrification makes everyone’s neighbors exponentially more annoying.
Guess what’s in the front yard? A pool. When you have people over the first time after you move in, just in the distance from the gate to your front door, your pals are going to transform from people who genuinely care about you to green-eyed ogres who are going to be jealously hating on you in a months-long group text. There’s also a huge sitting area, a fountain, and tons of trees and privacy, but keep your pants on anyway. Inside, the main of the house is a huge, bright lofted area (26 foot ceilings in here) crowned by a massive antique chandelier; there are also tons of built-in shelves, so if you don’t have (or buy) a large book collection, you might as well spray paint “I’M AN UNCULTURED PHILISTINE WHO DOESN’T READ” on the walls in bright red. The kitchen, which is nestled under an overhang, is all dark wood and white marble, and even has a cellar under the floor, perfect for storage or for hiding out from the new world order’s private army of vaccinators. (The house, which dates to 1871, was originally a stable, and was then converted to an organ factory, which explains its unique architectural features.)
Upstairs there are two master suites, equally lavish but not identical. One features a walk-in closet big enough to be a third bedroom (I used to live in a literal closet, so that’s not even a joke), and the other has a balcony overlooking the outdoor plaza and pool, and from which, if you got a good enough running start, you could probably leap into the pool below. Just make sure a friend is taking video from below when you try it, the money from Youtube views will cover part of your hospital bills after you miss by eight feet.
111 10th Street SE
2 Beds, 2.5 Baths
Photos courtesy MRIS; listing courtesy Coldwell Banker Residential, 202-333-6100