K Street's dual personality: Bespoke by day, Bebe by night

K Street, between 13th and 20th, is one of my favorite stretches of sidewalk to click on a new iMix, pop a few Ice Breakers Berry Sours and watch some of the most powerful men in my city preen just like the pretty peacocks you see emblazoned on their $135 Thomas Pink ties.

Some like to see the skinny-denim-clad sort the U Street corridor has to offer; some like the retro-fabulous rainbow invasion found wandering the streets of Penn Quarter and Chinatown; still others prefer the popped collars and Nicole Richie lookalikes populating Georgetown.

Those city pockets and their respective crowds are all fine and good in their own distinct ways, but for me, when it comes to on-the-street eye candy, I want the Willy Wonka fantasy factory that is K Street's lobbyist/lawyer row.

I've lived in DC for three and a half years, the last two and a half in my current, Dupont proximate building. I don't go out socially a tremendous amount -maybe once every other weekend- but by no means would I consider myself a stranger to the nightlife in our fair city.

Until Saturday night, that is, when I came face-to-face with a disturbing urban underbelly that quite honestly I would never have guessed existed within DC proper, much less four blocks from my home, three blocks from the White House and smack dab in the middle of my precious, suit-heavy K Street.

For those of you who haven't had the displeasure of experiencing the weekend scene at this street's eponymous lounge, I'd advise you to continue missing out unless the idea of having tight-on-tighter ensembles like this one flush up against your person while asshat men reeking of Mystic tan and low ambition attempt to bed you with gems like, "your friend's tits are amazing" and "you know where I'd like to put that mouth of yours?" sounds like a good way to waste $24 on cover and coat-check charges.


The good news in all of this is that despite my shock and sadness to see unimaginably unflattering and wrong-message-sending skanky clubwear in my favorite part of DC, this does present me with the perfect opportunity to run with reader Sarah Anne's "If you like ______, how about ______, instead?" idea.

I'm not yet sure with what I'll fill in that second blank, but so far, I already know I'll be inserting these into the first one:

- frayed denim mini skirts/shorts
- muffin-top creating skirts/pants
- "Real Housewives of Orange County" tops
- tube tops/dresses
- wrap-up-the-leg strappy stilettos
- acrylic French tips

Look for this inaugural installment later today or, depending on how many silver peacocks are out and about during the 65-degree lunch hour, possibly tomorrow.

p.s. here's that full-length photo I promised (photog credit goes to HRL):