Mrs. Tidbits Goes to Washington

Taffy reports back from Substack's New Media party in Washington, D.C.

If there’s one thing you should know about Taffy, it’s that I’m a New Yorker through and through. I may run in some hoity-toity circles, but I’ll never be too good for a Central Park hot dog or a schlep on the subway. And while I love living in the greatest city in the world, for the right event, I can always be persuaded to travel. Substack’s New Media party promised to introduce me to a whole new realm of political scandal and intrigue, and I always go where the gossip takes me.

Unlike New York, DC party people are prompt. By the time I arrived fashionably late at 8:15, The Line hotel’s two-story ballroom was already packed wall-to-wall with guests chatting, drinking, and, most importantly, hobnobbing.

The venue was Substack’s grandest yet: two floors, a step-and-repeat, and the logo splashed across the upper balcony. The upstairs remained a bit of a mystery to all but the most dedicated influencers, whose ring lights could periodically be seen hanging over the balustrade as they tried to get the best overhead shots.

Attendees took the event’s black tie dress code seriously. Guests arrived clad in tuxes and full ball gowns, prompting me to wonder if the city is permanently prepared for a gala. The answer? I was admiring one night rentals, mostly. Perhaps this limited exposure to penguin suits is why I overheard one woman tell her husband he looked like he was in the FBI.

“Republicans really wear their politics on their sleeve,” I overheard one DC native tell a visitor. “There’s no mistaking them.” A statement that proved true time and time again throughout the evening; it turns out the right’s sense of conservatism doesn’t extend to their clothing. One man sported a jacket that looked like a cross between a Hamilton costume and something Jeremy Strong might wear to the Golden Globes. As I got closer, my suspicions about his politics were confirmed when I overheard him bemoan “the loss of the straight male backbone of America,” complain about Rep. Ilhan Omar, and cap it all off with, “I’m praying every day, brother!”

The glambot was working overtime to capture all this sartorial splendor. Even

Michael Cohen

hopped in for a spin with his new bestie Russell Ellis—better known to the internet as liberal commentator

Jolly Good Ginger

—who was dressed in a black cowboy hat and suit. The pair later posted the clip to Instagram, with Cohen calling the moment “the greatest fight scene since Peter Griffin and The Chicken.” He spent the night warmly introducing Ellis to the DC scene, who, in turn, admired his cowboy boots. (Not Lucchese, to their disappointment.) The bromance between the pair was so strong, in the aftermath of the party Cohen and Ellis announced they’d be launching a new weekly Substack Live show together called “Lewd and Crude.”

jolly_good_ginger

A post shared by @jolly_good_ginger

Cohen wasn’t the only star of a bygone Trump administration in attendance.

Sean Spicer

was also spotted mixing and mingling, and was for some reason perpetually surrounded by at least four blonde women. When asked to take a photo with a particularly tall blonde in the bunch, Spicer stood up on a nearby couch to make it appear as though they were the same height, much to the amusement of everyone involved.

It turns out that the business card is alive and well in the District of Columbia. It often looked as though various groups of men were reenacting a scene out of American Psycho, the way they were passing around their contact information. I wouldn’t be surprised to overhear them evaluating the tastefulness of each other’s fonts. Firm handshakes and manly claps on the back abounded in this room of professional glad-handers and women eternally in search of their husbands.

Outside, a joint was being passed as a guy loudly pitched a sitcom about “priests and cardinals running around the city” to the host of a popular political podcast. I stood there silently wondering if any of them had heard of a timely little film called Conclave. Just then, a royal blue Cybertruck rolled by. “DC probably has the most Cybertrucks per capita,” someone said. The DOGE effect, presumably.

And there were plenty of DOGE acolytes in attendance that night—though perhaps no more than DOGE skeptics. During his speech, Substack’s co-founder Hamish McKenzie said as much, welcoming both the “ratbags from the right and the pugilists from the left.” The guests might disagree vehemently on politics, but they all seemed relieved to be at the New Media party rather than the flaccid White House Correspondents Dinner, happening just five minutes up the road, and featuring neither the traditional comedian nor anyone from the current administration.

Though the mood in Substack’s room was upbeat, it was hard to ignore the tensions running high just outside the door. A PR professional named Sarah confessed to another guest that these are “scary times” in the city. She’s thinking of moving to NYC. “I’ve already lived here through one presidential administration. I don’t know if I can survive another.” Part of the reason everyone was so happy to be here tonight? “People are desperate to not talk about politics.”

As the night began winding down around 11, the ballroom thinned. Stragglers wandered in off the street—a man in a rugby shirt raided the open bar, while a ginger-haired gentleman in a flowing Kente cloth vest yelled “What is this? A credit card?!” after picking up a discarded business card. I wish, buddy. If it were, we’d all be millionaires.

---

DM Taffy if you have any more hot Substack goss that needs to be shared with the masses.