I write our final #WHCD post while in a health condition more favorable than during the past two days, which was in basic recovery mode.Â Funny enough, Carol Joynt and I were writing each other last evening, me responding to an email containing a bevy of her recent Washingtonian online articles, asking if she was joining the planet after the #WHCD weekend, she said at her age (what? she’s ageless to me!) it takes a bit longer. I think it doesn’t matter at what age, it takes a long time, but Amen, sister.Â Getting to bed every night by midnight-ISH paid off, but I’m still feeling the effects of a lot of hand shaking, cheek kissing, buffet digging, and cocktailing.Â Even with the simple action of opening up a ladies room door, we can be susceptible to germs. And the best part is, Jason and I were watching the episode of HBO’s VEEP Sunday night during which the stomach bug epidemicÂ sweeps through the Hill.Â Ahh.
So we track back to Saturday, the night of all nights; what all this jazz is leads up to…..
Prepping for an evening of “bad storms” or so they were saying pretty much everywhere, Jason and I decide that we have to play it smart when it came to our logistics plan. He actually cares about his shoes and his hair and MY HAIR and MY SHOES. Â Ok, not sure in what order that goes, but I do know he is thoughtful that way.Â So we order a car to take us from the Darlington House, which will be our second stop of the night and also the venue of the Third Annual Kids Table Dinner, which will casually commence around 8pm for 50 or so friends who do not get invited to the 3000 person Adults Dinner at the Washington Hilton hotel, but do receive invites to the pre-Dinner receptions, to the Newsweum.Â We cab (with umbrella in hand) to the hotel, also known as the Hinckley Hotel as this is where Reagan was shot, and arrive in black tie to a hob nob of fans/celebrity stalkers/security.Â This is no Academy Awards my friend and it’s quite early, so the flock of screaming fans and random media and paparazzi outside the property’s entrance is rather bleak, kind of like a poor man’s Oscars.Â It is again, only 6pm.
We make our entrance to a stack of “real media” cameramen and photographers, who gasp as we walk in and are immediately let down. We are nobody.Â “Pamela!” one of my photographer friend yells, I laugh, embarrassed, pose and run away, as he takes a shot.Â We make our way to the lounge and grab a seat at the huge circular bar which soon fills with tuxes, gowns, and up-dos.Â This is journo event, so we aren’t surprised to see a few of these folks with their laptops out typing away furiously in gala attire.Â Odd sight for most, yes, but this is the #WHCD.Â It’s time to make our way to the Thomson Reuters reception, which we find out after walking past a few of the entry ways, is 2 levels down. “Have your invites out and ready to show!” command the ear pieced men and women. Thank goodness we have ours printed out.
We then follow the duckling parade of fanciness down the escalator and make our entrance into the beginning of the real action, where all the A-list of Hollywood are wandering. We choose to go right into the reception, where my friend Adrian Loving is DJ’ing, making sweet music with a violinist whose amped up.Â The bongo guy joins them soon, so along with the reddish tint to the room there is a definite atmosphere.Â The round bar in the middle of the room stands out because of its many bottles and special cocktail menu (even having one in honor of Caren Bohan called “The Caren”, who is not only the Reuters White House Correspondent, but also happens to be the head of the Association) and the gorgeous glass chandelier.Â White leather couches provide ample seating for soon to be weary feet and sushi as well as other appetizing samplings are offered.Â We pop a squat and are soon joined by the dapper dresser David Sutphen of Brunswick Group.Â After chatting awhile about Voto Latino and L.A. and some of the philanthropic work he does, the bell tolls and it’s time for him to go to the Adult Dinner and we to make our way down Connecticut Avenue to the Darlington House.
Walking down, we pop into the new ArtJamz space to say hi to Michael Clements, he’s not there, but the gesture is made as busy painters are furiously unleashing their inner artist.Â At the Darlington House, aka the scene of the past 2 years of the Kids gathering together because we had to find a place to eat before the post-Dinner parties, we have reserved space for 50 people in the front dining room.Â Soon our group comes in, decked out in black tie and beautiful formal gowns in an array of jewel colors, fur wraps and sparkling gems.Â More bottles of Prosecco come out, we drink, we dine, we network, we discuss the next move (MSNBC? Capitol File?). Everyone splits and we take the car to the Newseum for the Capitol File shindig.
Here, we are early enough to not have to stand in any sort of line for a drink and to take in the vast space.Â Camera flashes are going off on each other, not yet on the step and repeat, where actress Claire Danes and other Hollywood eye candy will pass by, but the official paparazzi is lining up.Â We see Angie Goff of WUSA 9, Paul Wharton looking fabulous after launching his Sunday mid-day talk show on the CW, and a slew of others coming in, wandering around, many of whom are familiar and not so familiar faces. I never do catch a glimpse of Cap File President and Editor in Chief Sarah Schaffer, who has the dubious honor this year of working the magazine and the event sans-Jason Binn, ball of energy/the former head of Niche Media LLC which owns such properties as Cap File, Gotham, Los Angeles Confidential and so on.Â Binn, a natural “celebrity scooper”, had in former years, including last year, been known to scurry around this event with his own camera and the official photographer, scoping out and scooping up only A-listers, worthy of print.
We leave the event early, tired, feet hurting, but still glowing from a great night which was near perfect from beginning to end.Â Another #WHCD Saturday night closed up.Â The End.
Pamela Lynne Sorensen is the founder of Pamela’s Punch, a leading source of information for the “who, what, when, and where” of Washington, DC’s elite social, professional, and philanthropic scene, which she founded in November of 2006. In 2012 she launched Pacific Punch, based in Los Angeles. Pamela comes from an extensive background in sales and business development from a variety of industries, has been involved with charities and fundraising for a number of years and holds several Board and leadership positions. She currently resides in Arlington, Virginia and when she’s not out on the town, she’s reading or writing while sipping fine wine, or traveling the country and the world ISO adventures, beauty, fun, food, style, libations, music, and the good life. Follow her on Twitter at @pamelaspunch.