The inside and outside of this stellar Dupont home couldn’t be more dissimilar; the facade looks like a dignified, if staid, brick townhome, but inside it looks like the set of a Prince music video. This house is the proverbial book that you can’t judge by its cover, sort of like your ex who seemed totally well-adjusted and normal, but turned out to have a secret wife and kids in an adjacent city, and whose name wasn’t really even “Derek.” (It was “Ted.” Ted!)
Inside, the main level has a totally open floor plan, for that coveted “aircraft hangar” vibe that’s so popular these days. Now that the open floor plan is becoming ubiquitous, I can’t really even think of any reason to have walled rooms in your house, other than, “I can’t stand these people,” in which case you have bigger problems than your house’s floor plan. There’s a roomy bay window in the front of the house that you really are obligated to turn into a reading nook, even though that means you’re probably going to make awkward eye contact with passersby on a regular basis. (When I used to sit in my first floor bay window, I thought about putting a handprinted sign in the window that said, “I WASN’T LOOKING AT YOU, YOU WALKED INTO MY LINE OF SIGHT!”) There’s a sleek fireplace along one wall, and a freestanding arched doorway that’s either a brilliant stylistic flourish, or the contractor who knocked down all the walls had to leave early one day to take care of some parking tickets, and they never bothered to finish the last bit of the job.
The kitchen features Porcelanosa cabinets and Miele stainless steel appliances, which means that even if you met Jeff Bezos, or a Saudi prince, you could look them in the eye, and think to yourself, “my kitchen is more or less just as nice as theirs.” The staircase leading upstairs has one of those waist-high glass barrier-railings that, if you Lord forbid ever tripped down the stairs, would probably behead you as cleanly as a red-hot spoon you heated up on your stove burner sliding into the pint of ice cream you drunkenly bought at 7-11 that you can’t wait for to soften naturally. Upstairs, the master bedroom goes from contemporary all-white minimalism to full-on “this is where they shot all the dream sequences on “Twin Peaks.'” The walls are white, with a red patterned accent wall and lots of weird features that might be purely ornamental, or might be lamps or bedside cupboards or something. There’s also a huge all-white walk-in closet with a floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall in which you can wink at yourself and give yourself thumbs-up to get you motivated for the day. (I can’t be the only one who does this.) The master bath has edgy twin basins that look sort of like they’re made out of Tetris blocks, a glass-walled shower, and, right in the middle of the room, maybe my favorite tub ever. It’s huge and round and basically a massive soup bowl that you can sit in. I don’t know why I don’t see more of these tubs. I added it to my list of house features that I’m going to have in the house I build once my bitcoin gets to be worth a million dollars.
Outside, there’s a stone balcony and a wooden deck, as well as a large-ish flagstone patio. And finally, the house has not one but two separate, legal apartments. If you played your cards right, you could actually achieve everyone’s dream of buying a house and paying the entire mortgage by renting a portion of it out, freeing you to quit your job and watch “Judge Judy” all day, with occasional breaks to extract random objects (shoes, latex gloves, entire mangoes, baseball-sized clots of hair) from your tenants’ plumbing. (Ninety percent of being a landlord is extracting objects from your tenants’ toilets.)
1814 19th Street NW
7 Bedrooms, 4.5 Baths
All photos courtesy MRIS; listing courtesy Coldwell Banker, 202-333-6100