Fashion

[Chi-town girl]

Lovely tribute. I highlighted the shout out to QVC and her customers in bold. Sounds like a wonderful service is planned for tomorrow

From Page Six-

How long did I know Joan Rivers? Longer than I admit I’m alive.

I’ve seen her happy, sad, laughing, crying, making a dirty joke, sipping a red wine. I’ve watched her be feisty and funny. I’ve been with her when she’s inside some junky nightie and fuzzy striped sock slippers. I know who she liked, who she didn’t.

I loved this lady.

Last week I saw a Joan Rivers one shouldn’t see. Pale and still as marble. Uncommunicative. No makeup. No cameras. No one-liners. No movement. Wires hooked to machines. The blonde head in bandages.

The audience? Melissa, in from California, who never left her mother’s side, never went to her own east side apartment. Stayed, lived, slept in a room the hospital provided for her. Nearby, cousins, close friends, the family’s business team. All of us connected through that one entity lying motionless in a bed.

Cindy Adams, left, and Joan RiversPhoto: Susan May Tell

We played CDs of favorite TV shows and movies praying to spark any response. I’d babble jokes, recite some oldtime funny stupid poem, throw in a riddle. I sat alongside stroking an immovable arm. Rubbing a seemingly lifeless finger.

Touching a cheek. Putting my hand on a toe.

Around her our thoughts were loud; our words, soft. We gently talked tentative plans — like longtime assistant Jocelyn caring for Joan’s dogs — because doctors knew. Tests proved. What was feared wasn’t voiced. But we understood. She could feel no pain. She’d never suffer through some longterm debilitating sickness. Our Joan wasn’t there anymore.

On the sidewalk, the press, reporting on this teriffic old broad — whom many had never met — as though she was a longtime buddy.

And what was I remembering through tears: I remembered one time she had a cornea infection and arrived sporting a big black eyepatch. Why the black eyepatch? Answer: “That’s what happens after you spend a long night pleasuring Al Roker.”

D. Trump, Judge Judy, Barbara Walters, Sue Simmons, the immediate world called to attend today’s 11 am Temple Emanuel service. As planned by Joan’s pal, Elie Tahari exec Scott Currie, it starts with the Gay Men’s choir show tunes, the rabbi’s opening prayer, Audra McDonald singing, Debra Norville reminiscing. Then me, Melissa, Hugh Jackman. A closing prayer then an NYPD cadre and four horseback riders who, I was told, did not come cheap.

Some years ago she wasn’t nailing big jobs. TV offers had dwindled. Word was, “old hat” . . . “age.” They wanted newcomers. I offered to loan her money. She refused. The currency she needed was recognition.

Then along came NBC’s “Apprentice” show. And along came E! TV’s “Fashion Police” show. And out came that bawdy humor, salty tongue, gonads sharp as nails and, like the Jordan, the Rivers Joan flowed again.

“A day without working’s a day lost. That’s my real life. Show business must recognize me. And this is to tell everyone, ‘See, I’m still here. I’m not finished. I’m not Joan of AARP.’ ”

Came the repackaged zingers: “I’ve been lifted so often there’s nothing left in my shoes . . . It’s one more plastic surgery so I can get my old face back.”

And hawking jewelry on a shopping network she considered religious: “Anybody buys from me, they’re sacred. QVC is holy work.”

After a Bravo comedy show Joan, throwing the smallest cast party ever, took herself to Le Cirque for dinner: “Money will be no object as I really like myself.” Me: “Aren’t you going to have a catered affair?” She: “Catered or not, I just want to have an affair.”

For her first Beverly Hills shot she was “hysterical. Terrified. Means nothing that I tried out the stuff in Sydney because Australians can only get a kangaroo to kick you . . . But Hollywood’s a mean town. They wait for you to give birth just so they can eat your young.”

Joan never disappointed. She was never one second late. One night a triple-parked middle-east security caravan blocked her limo. She ran out in pouring rain. Cops in a police car rescued soggy Joan. “They could see I was no hooker,” she said — and drove her to the club date.

And today TV, radio, internet, newspapers, magazines, all nonstop wall-to-wall Joan Rivers. Strangers are writing her name on dusty windshields. She’d love it. She’s probably nudging that saint at the Pearly Gate with: “Hey, Pete, how about this really great show!”

[adriennelisa]

Thanks Chi-town

[Krissie22]

This is so beautiful, thank you for posting it. Of course now I'm crying again, but it was worth it.

[KittenShopper]

Very nice. Thank-you.

[emmysmom]

Its hard hearing these wonderful things..and Melissa's steadfast guarding of her mother..such a devoted daughter, it just breaks my heart! I wondered about Joan's dogs, I know she has 2 in NY, sounds like they will be taken care of by her assistant~I bet they miss their mommy! We miss you Joan! Thanks Chi!

[Ms X]

Thanks for posting this! I rely on this board for info I miss about Joan Rivers. What a wonderful tribute. This article tells me that Joan's last years were probably some of her happiest. Cindy Adams said she always wanted to work and be recognized, and she was very successful with Fashion Police, QVC, and other things.

[Remee]

Joan had a great life, no doubt about it. She gave, she got, she was loved by the whole world. Are any of us that lucky ? That's a GREAT life !! Bless her !!!

[Aresnz]

Thank you so much for posting this. What a beautiful tribute. I've seen where there will be a red carpet outside the Temple and afterwards that same red carpet will be rolled up and buried with Joan. I think she's going to get the type of funeral she wanted. Basically any way. RIP Joan.

[Miranda1550]

Chi-town, this is what QVC is about. Sharing, helping, and caring. Thank you for posting this tribute.

[sidsmom]

The hospital description has been the most insight we've read about to date...hate to day, but made me a little bit uncomfortable. I don't want the visual of Joan. I just watched her last Fashion Police the week prior...that's how I want to remember her. Nice tribute none the less.