As one might expect of any storied neighborhood whose colorful residents include statesmen, politicians, artists, raconteurs, scoundrels, merchants, old money, new money, media stars, social climbers, grand dames, gents and party girls, Georgetown has more than a few faces. It’s a relatively small community and many people know each other, either well or in passing.

They stop n’chat on the bricked sidewalks, meet for lunch or dinner at Café Milano, Martin’s and La Chaumiere, drop off the dry cleaning at New York Cleaners, line up for morning coffee at Marvelous Market and Patisserie Poupon, still call PNC Bank by the name “Riggs,” meet for pancakes or a club sandwich at Furin’s Coffee Shop, walk their dogs at Montrose, get them groomed at Chichies, line up for produce at the Wednesday farmer’s market, stand in line together for movies at the Loews and, not to put a downer on it, often as not end up buried next to each other at the village’s very own Oak Hill Cemetery.