It’s a good time to be selling in Kalorama, what with the Obamas and Ivanka Trump and whoever else moving into the neighborhood. Kalorama’s always been the “Cool Dad” of neighborhoods, but just as every dad is now trying to be the “I have a tasteful neck tattoo and wear skate shoes and repost Xanax memes on social media” Cool Dad (TM), Kalorama has now gone mainstream. “Kalorama is the new Georgetown” would be the bougiest, lamest t-shirt/linen tote bag that would nonetheless sell tens of thousands.
This place has a staid, traditional brick facade, but inside it’s a hyper-modern tribute to minimalism. The main living area is a blank slate; it’s huge, and open, with recessed lighting and blonde hardwood floors, all of it brilliantly lit by a row of three oversized windows. At first, it struck my eye as bare, but then I thought about how much space is wasted in the average home on unnecessary features. A foyer is just umbrella storage masquerading as a room, and if you have a fireplace, I guarantee you don’t use it more than two or three times a year, and even then you’re like, “that was really toasty for like 20 minutes but now the entire house is going to smell like carcinogens for two weeks.” And having a mantle just means time and money spent at craft fairs shopping for hand-carved driftwood picture frames so visitors to your home can look at hard copies of pictures they already made snarky remarks about when they saw them, several months earlier, on Instagram. No, a minimalist house makes a ton of sense. If I lived here, I’d buy, like, a single white streamlined sofa and put it right in the middle of the floor, and that’s it. Maybe a single lamp, and a couple of those expensive oversized photo books that you can’t tell whether they’re art or pornography. It would be like living on the set of an Italian sci-fi movie from the seventies.
The kitchen follows in this aesthetic vein, with the kind of minimalist Italian cabinets where you’ll stand there trying to open a cabinet door for five minutes before you realize it’s actually a wall panel. Everything’s white; white marble counters, backsplash, white cabinets. And there are beautiful high-end Miele appliances that you can sell on Craigslist if you ever get really really desperate for money. (You never know.)
Upstairs, the master suite is simple and elegant, with recessed lighting and windows, and opens via double doors onto the master bath, so you can ride your horse directly from bed to the shower. The master bath features twin basins and a soaking tub that’s actually in the massive shower, which is so big that it’s basically just a waterproof room with sprinklers in it. (Though I guess that’s kind of the definition of “shower,” if you think about it.) Also, there are heated floors in here, which is one of those little touches of luxury that you’d think would make those years in law school worth it, but deep down you know you’d happily shiver on ice-cold floors if you could have those three years of your twenties to do over.
Up a spiral open staircase is the wooden deck, which is tastefully finished with Ipe decking, which you know is expensive and sophisticated just from the vaguely Nordic brand name. You can see the Washington Monument from here (and also from almost every single location in the District, but why nitpick?) and there are gas and water hookups up here, so you can start AND put out a fire up here during the same party. Your friends won’t be able to decide whether you’re tragically clumsy or heroically competent.
1837 Wyoming Avenue NW Unit C
2 Bedrooms, 2.5 Baths
All photos courtesy of MRIS; listing courtesy of Compass, 202-386-6330