Okay, so I went a little app-tastic tonight at Susan Rappaport's Halloween party at her Georgetown home. I played with a variety of iPhone apps. As I said to one guest after another, "just think of me as the party clown who makes balloon animals." Like many people I'm somewhat uncomfortable at parties. Taking photos is a form of conversation.
Since most of the guests were friends they played along but they did act incomprehensible when I said things like "i'm running this shot through Dynamic Light" or "I've hashtagged the party." High of the night was my colleague Sophie Gilbert tweeting to let me know she was proud of my "hashtagging." She knows I'm a remedial hashtagger.
The food was delicious, per usual chez Rappaport. A great big pot of homemade Texas style chili, accompanied by fixin's and corn bread and corn chips and salad. Plus a bartender and a full bar.
Playing to no stereotypes, please, it was a boffo party, and so what if some of the time people were speaking in French? It was Halloween. Georgetown can't overturn itself entirely, now, can it? Gosh, I hope not. But know this: even brainiac socialites can reveal their inner ghoul and howl for a night. And know this, too: in this era, call someone a socialite and they take out a contract on you. There aren't many authentics left, but they do dwell in caves in Georgetown.