There’s no universally agreed upon height standard for a place to qualify as a “loft” – I’ve been in places marketed as lofts that only had 12 or 13 foot ceilings, but had open floor plans and exposed ductwork, so I guess they figured they could fudge things. But looking at this place, I think I’ve come up with a standard – if you jumped off a platform that was the same height of the ceiling in question, you can only call it a loft if the jump would result in certain hospitalization. So ten foot ceilings are out – I could easily jump from a ten foot ledge and walk (limp) away. Same with twelve, fifteen feet – no problem. Twenty feet, then, is the minimum for loft ceiling height. Twenty feet, you’d probably sprain an ankle or something. Twenty-five, thirty, now we’re talking about eating applesauce through a tube for a few months. This stunning loft has 35-foot ceilings, so it easily meets the new standard. (A 35-foot jump basically requires a parachute.)
But man, I didn’t expect these Pierce School lofts to be so amazing. The outside looks so quaint, and part of me actually thought that maybe they just cleared the desks out and turned each classroom into an apartment. (Being pathologically lazy, that’s what I would’ve done if I was the developer.) But no. This place looks like the loft where a Russian oligarch or a Bond villain would live. You enter into a large foyer with beautiful shining hardwood floors that has several chandeliers of different styles hanging at different heights; it looks like a Counting Crows video, or if Martha Stewart had a very gentle acid flashback. From there you walk into the living room, which features the aforementioned 35-foot ceiling; this room is so stunning, I literally thought, “why didn’t Jeff Bezos buy this place? Idiot!” There’s a massive fireplace, and above that is mounted a moose’s head, which is definitely a first for me. I had so many questions about the moose head – who thought of putting a moose head on the wall? Where did they get it? Did some intern have to spend a day scouring Ebay and the Craigslist “For Sale” sections of various Canadian cities to find it?
The kitchen is so lavish – the island is 20 feet long – that it could pass for an upscale bar/cafe. Install an espresso machine and I pledge to bring my laptop over and sit at the bar all day, typing away, ignoring all your hints about how “it’s closing time” and “are you really going to buy one cup of coffee and then sit there all day?” (Yes.) All the cabinets are down by your knees, instead of up at face level, which gives the space a nice clean look. In one alcove is a booth – a seldom-seen kitchen feature that I think should be standard – and in a large bay window is the dining room area.
Upstairs, the master bedroom features a huge sort of double-wide armoire that could double as a headboard for a California King, and the master bath features fantastic details, like double basins made of stainless steel kettles, and, in a brilliant touch, a terrarium in the shower wall. There’s also a urinal in addition to a toilet, so you’ll never have to put the seat up and down again, which will cut down on like 85% of your significant other arguments. In most places, the master bedroom is a cut above, and the rest of the bedrooms are sort of afterthoughts, but in this place, the non-master bedrooms might be superior. They’re all huge and they all have sloping, asymmetrical ceilings; these are the quirkiest, nicest attic bedrooms you’ll ever see. One of them is blindingly white, so it’s like you’re in a miniature, futuristic cathedral, and another one has two working bathtubs in it, so you can reenact those Cialis commercials. There’s also an upper-level living room, and a legit home theater, with seats that look to be salvaged from a Seventies-era plane. If you had a home theater, you’d probably watch more serious artistic films, instead of slumping on the sofa watching fail videos on a laptop smeared with grape-jelly fingerprints. Finally, at the very top of the house, is a sun room and a very roomy roof deck, and outside is a really cool black bottom pool. Oh, and there’s a legit gym in the basement, so if you do move in here and you’re not ripped and swole after six months, we’re all going to know it’s because you’re lazy.
1375 Maryland Avenue NE Unite H
5 Bedrooms, 4.5 Baths
All photos courtesy MRIS; listing courtesy Evers & Co., 202-364-1700