The XX Factor: What women really think.

Inauguration as Office Party

To all you lady reporters who were up front underneath the stage in the press seating (hey hey, Dayo!), did you ever find yourself wishing you had braved the unticketed masses out on the Mall instead?

Joseph Lowery's benediction was still breathtaking and Obama's speech still powerful, but the mood up front was less once-in-a-lifetime historic moment and more, well, office party. On the right side of the Capitol steps, where members of the House of Representatives were seated, a mustached rep in a long camel-hair coat—I think it was Jose Serrano of New York—led others standing on his riser in drunken-sounding chants like "Rahmbo! Rahmbo! Rahmbo!" [referring to badass Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel] and "Hey, Steny [that's Steny Hoyer, the House Majority Leader], we love ya!"

Meanwhile, on the Senate side of the Capitol steps, practically every failed presidential hopeful—John Kerry, Joe Lieberman, Arlen Specter, a regally smiling Chris Dodd—casually meandered as close as possible to the coveted presidential podium, acting out their commander-in-chief fantasies by gripping the white railing tightly and waving at nobody in particular.

There was one thrilling, if short, moment. At one point, maybe half an hour before the inauguration began, people began standing up on their chairs down in the press section. The reporters all turned backward to gaze out at the thronged Mall and started to pull out cameras. I stood up on my seat, too, and felt suddenly moved: Here was the supposedly cynical press corps, turning en masse to face the American people and revere the awesome sight of millions gathered in the chill to see the first black man become president.

Then I realized everybody was taking a photo of Jay-Z.

Washington Cool Watch, Item 2

Last night's party gossip deepened the "I live in L.A. now" feeling. Someone had spotted Jay-Z and Beyoncé shopping at the Pentagon City Mall. Someone else saw Stevie Wonder at Mazza Gallery.

On second thought, though, L.A. is not the correct analogy. Those are two generic malls. They are the kinds of places I go when I need a new pair of running shoes or maybe some luggage. I mean, I realize that D.C. has no equivalent of Fifth Avenue, or Melrose. But the fact that somebody told Jay-Z to go to a suburban mall for reliable bling makes me feel like I live in Peoria.

Clearly, this celebrity influx is making me anxious. A few people last night thought it might be temporary, but somehow I don't think so. I think they will be visiting a lot more often now that we have the Ur-Celebrity in the White House. Note to Washington: The Power and the Glitter are closer than ever. Must work out new dynamic with Hollywood.