CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: My husband, Cab, and me at the Meridian Ball. I am wearing a Robin Brouillette dress from Julia Farr Boutique, a personal favorite; with Paul Tumpowsky, chairman at InSITE, at P.J. Clarke’s for one of Capitol File’s fabulous Sidecar Conversation Series dinners; moderating a Q&A with fashion designer Nary Manivong and director David Swajeski following a screening of the documentary Dressed at Bethesda Row’s Boutique Week; me and Marc Adelman, one of my favorite Washingtonians, celebrating Conservation International at Union Station
I am thrilled that winter is here. I know, I know—“But the snow! The slush! The ice! The freezing temperatures!” Growing up in Washington, I, too, was one of those who would tire of the dark days and frigid nights; I hated to bundle up and cover cute sweater sets and wool trousers. Then I moved to the desert and spent about a decade with two seasons: hot and miserably hot. Fall felt nonexistent, and spring—well, spring was a blip of 80-degree days that quickly bled into the 90s and 100s. Clouds would occasionally darken the skies, and from time to time, it would rain, usually in the form of flash floods that overran the Strip for a day or two (monsoon season, as the locals call it).
So when I moved home to Washington a year and a half ago, one of the things I looked forward to most was a change in weather—any type of weather. I quickly realized how I had taken it for granted, so I reveled in it. When it rained, I was the girl in the street doing her best Gene Kelly impersonation. Umbrella? Who needs it? A real-deal thunderstorm set my heart aflutter. I had forgotten how beautiful colors besides neutral desert tones could be; fall, with its changing trees and chilly temperatures, felt so real after all of those years away. But winter in Washington is what I live for. Nothing is more beautiful than the monuments all coated in white. The first snow blankets the city, and I am the one tying up my bootlaces to walk through Rock Creek Park. Winter’s flakes are artistry to me. Children making snowmen, people ice skating on the Mall, visitors at the Christmas tree at the Ellipse—or families making time for one another, welcoming friends to come in and take off their coats for a warm cup of something or other. All of it gets me. Snowmageddon, bah humbug. I have learned to embrace winter, and I don’t believe I will ever tire of it, now that I truly understand what I was missing.
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PHOTOGRAPHY BY YULIA MIKHALCHUK (PANEL); TONY POWELL (P.J. CLARKE’S); JOYCE N. BOGHOSIAN (MERIDIAN BALL); JACK HARTZMAN (ADELMAN)
Celebrating the White House Correspondents’ Association’s annual dinner at Carnegie Library.