I've lived in D.C. for four years. Most of that time I've gone completely unencumbered by any sightings of D.C. royalty. All of a sudden, Ian Svenonius is everywhere I go. At the Gossip show. Outside L'Enfant when I pass by. Hanging with his crew on the steps of the barber shop at 1843 14th Street NW while I ride by on the 52. He was freshly dipped: a better blazer than I was wearing, sunglasses hanging out the breast pocket, coiffured in that Jackie O-as-a-dude style he does. Is it wrong to assume the girl he was talking to with her back to my window-view was Michelle Mae?