I don’t usually use “squat” as a compliment, but I really like this squat Bloomingdale rowhouse. Rowhouses aren’t typically what you’d describe as dainty anyway, but this one seems simultaneously squat and graceful, like one of those Crossfit girls with massive barrel-sized thighs. You enter into a bright, gallery-like living room; there’s a beautiful accent wall in here of what appears to be small interlocking wooden tiles. I’m not sure what they are, exactly, because when I went to touch the wall, my girlfriend slapped my hand away and hissed, “you break it, you buy it, and you can’t afford to buy it.” (She’s not wrong, but still.) Past a vertically-striped staircase that’s straight out of one of those interior design magazines found in the waiting room of every cosmetic surgeon’s office (that’s a compliment, by the way) is the gorgeous formal dining room. When you have a dining room like this, you’re obligated to have sitdown family meals on a regular, if not daily, basis. It has a vaulted ceiling and plenty of natural light, so you’ll be able to see every iota of the disgust and contempt that will flash across the faces of the other family members every time you make your “Hi, Hungry, I’m Dad, nice to meet you!” joke.
The kitchen is all-white and softly lit, sort of like how I envision the afterlife, except with more appliances. There’s also a marble waterfall island, which looks great, but I know from experience that if you stub your toe on that lower marble panel, you’re gonna wish for amputation. I don’t go into the kitchen anymore without steel-toed boots on, not even for a glass of water. Through a pair of glass doors is the covered deck-slash-back porch; if you stapled up some mosquito netting, this would be a great place to sleep during the warm months.
Upstairs, the master bedroom is big enough for that California king-sized canopy bed you’ve secretly wanted ever since watching that Anne Hathaway movie where she finds out she’s actually a princess. There’s also a nice little alcove that’s perfect for an armchair, in which you can sit in the middle of the night and stare at your significant other as they sleep, and think to yourself, “wow, they’re so lucky to be with me.” The master bath continues the white-on-white motif, and features a high-ceilinged glass-walled shower with striated gray and white walls that look like the canyons in the Painted Desert in Arizona. Finally, the lower level downstairs is a two-bedroom garden apartment that’s nicer, and brighter, than any basement apartment has a right to be. I don’t understand how an apartment that is, literally, underground, can have this much light. I suspect there are mirrors or something involved. I don’t know. The apartment also has a certificate of occupancy, meaning it’s a fully legal basement apartment, which matters pretty much not at all, since the District enforces its basement apartment regulations about as often as a cop writes a jaywalking ticket. Maybe if it’s one of those nice-looking certificates written out in Olde English font, you can get it framed and hang it up in your office, way in the back wall and sort of behind the potted plant, so people will think you got another degree.
142 Seaton Place NW
5 Bedrooms, 3.5 Baths
All photos courtesy MRIS; listing courtesy Coldwell Banker, 202-387-6180