now all they need is a chapter house...
For those of you ladies looking to make it big in Washington, DC... look no more. My comments are inserted throughout. You'll definitely know which are mine.
Trophy Wives in Training By Peter Savodnik
Sometime around midnight, a private party of women sipping cosmopolitans at the bar at Blue Gin lets out a collective gasp. The management has opened its doors to the public, and now other people — scruffy, unambitious oglers of unknown political persuasion hoping to pick up 23-year-old press secretaries in their tight red dresses — are on the premises.
“We want to keep an edge of exclusiveness,” explains Caroline Butts, president of The Madison and legislative assistant and deputy communications director for Rep. John Linder (R-Ga.).
Founded late last year by a handful of mostly Hill women in their early 20s looking for good times and professional advancement with 100 members and oodles of girls on the waiting list.
It’s hard to say what The Madison’s raison d’être is [could it be that they desperately miss sorority life?]. Discussing their new social circle, the girls are just as likely to mention “philanthropy” as “networking.” Ending child abuse — this year’s cause — is mentioned almost as frequently as landing a good job, clubbing and meeting “quality” people, i.e., people who get you good jobs and into clubs.
One local news personality, said a Madison higher-up, “calls us trophy wives in training.” She laughs, tucking a strawberry-blond lock behind her ear. “I would be the ultimate trophy wife!”
Of course, Madison women are keenly aware that trophy wives can have fun but not too much fun: No one wants his trophy too tarnished before they walk down the aisle. Tonight The Madison has taken over Blue Gin, just eight weeks old and already among the hippest bars in Washington. Blue Gin is swank, dimly lit and managed by a Frenchman. Plus, they’ve concocted a special Madison Martini just for this evening. (Ingredients include mango rum, fresh raspberry puree and a splash of cranberry juice.)
Downstairs the girls are staking out their turf at the bar, reclining on the miniature couches and talking about their congressmen and their highlights and who’s going to win in November. One junior staffer at “B-C ’04,” asked if the president is going to prevail, quips, “Hells yeah!” While they’re reluctant to acknowledge any partisan leanings, roughly 80 percent are Republican.
It would be easy to paint The Madison as a sort of NC-17 Junior League [oh, if only you really knew, Peter], a cool-but-not-too-cool clique of mostly Southern belles too pretty, too well bred to mingle, let alone procreate, with mere legislative directors. Certainly, the fellows at the Capital Club, The Madison’s male equivalent, see the sisterhood as something of a future first wives club. Said one: “We’re starting a breeding program. We’re going to maintain the blue-blood line.” [do I even have to say it here? Come on.]
It’s not just that The Madison is exclusive. So what? If everyone could join, no one would want to. Good for these ladies for wearing their haughtiness on their sleeves. In a town notorious for its dishonesty and obfuscation, The Madison is refreshingly in-your-face about who’s hot and who’s not.
“We just like to have fun,” says Melissa McKay, who organized this evening’s event, dubbed “Shaken … Not Stirred.” McKay, a recent graduate of the College of Charleston and Rep. Steve King’s (R-Iowa) communications director [Steve King (n) - an evil piece of shit that made working in western Iowa for a Democrat unbearable], adds that outsiders are hardly banned from Madison gigs. Those in attendance included press secretaries for Reps. Tom DeLay (R-Texas) [now I want my mommy] and Eric Cantor (R-Va.) [no one cares who he is.].
What makes The Madison a big, fat target for anyone who isn’t a member is that it looks and feels like a relic of a faraway time and place — before Betty Friedan, Roe v. Wade, the 19th Amendment. There’s a curiously staid quality, a predictability, about going out on the town in the nation’s capital. In New York, everyone is looking for an experience; in Washington, they’re looking for a future; in Washington there’s a lack of edge.
True, the kind of woman who signs up for The Madison — whose last event was titled “Mad in Plaid” — probably isn’t looking for too much edge. Che Guevara never dated the prom queen. Above all, she’s looking for class and sophistication and other people who think and feel like she does.
“D.C. is very transient, so it’s good to have a network while you’re here,” says Butts, the group’s president, who attended Vanderbilt University, where she was social chairwoman of her Kappa Delta sorority [oh, how surprised we are. no.]. For now, she’s pursing a masters degree in government at Johns Hopkins University; one day she’d like to start her own lobbying firm here in Washington. Other Madison women are equally educated, recent college graduates who talk about becoming lawyers and congressional candidates, philanthropists and community leaders.
As the hordes of Other People filter into Blue Gin, two security guards rope off the staircase that leads to the second floor of the bar, where they have been playing 007 flicks as partygoers sip martinis, stare through the large glass blocks in the floor and wave at their friends coming in down below.
The women glance at their hair in the mirror behind the bar, in between the bottles of Tanquerray and Stoli and Absolut. They are growing a bit bored with all the newcomers and the noise. “You can’t hear yourself,” someone says. “What?” says her friend. “I said, ‘You can’t hear yourself!’” she blares. [Give me the 'Berg ANYDAY over this BS]
The bouncers, dressed in black suits, are getting ready to stop letting anyone else in. The club has just about maxed out at its 350-person limit. McKay, the evening’s organizer, explains how someone goes about getting into The Madison. “It’s going to be on references.” Behind her, on the other side of the looking glass, is a long line of strangers craning their necks to get a look at the bouncers. “The more members you meet,” she says, “the better chance you have of getting in.”
