(Note: I wrote this quite a while ago not long after Joan Rivers died)
I feel like the world has been sucked of all our funny. Losing Robin Williams, to suicide no less, was awful. It sucker punched us. Who was going to be our true comedic genius? How could Mrs. Doubtfire be dead?
But, for me, as much as Robin William’s death was sad and upsetting, losing Joan was and is devastating. I feel like I’ve lost a friend. I’ve been known to tell people that Heath Ledger was my Elvis. That celebrity whose death I’ll always remember and that really affected me. But this, Joan, is just as bad in a different way.
I read an article online soon after Joan’s death that seemed to really dismiss Joan’s work on the red carpet and QVC. But that’s how I first met Joan, asking “who are you wearing” and watching the most famous actors in the world pray she didn’t say anything too crazy to them. It was in those moments that Joan first taught me not only about fashion but about how important it is to be able to laugh at yourself. You can be the most beautiful person in Hollywood, on your way to winning your craft’s top honor, but tomorrow, all of us normal people will be talking about how you take yourself to seriously.
Joan was, from beginning to end, a pioneer for women. I was going to say women in comedy, but I truly think it goes beyond that. By always saying what she was thinking, what we were all thinking many times, she helped tear down that bullshit wall of “ladylike” behavior. My gender shouldn’t and doesn’t limit me or my opinions or what I can say. Without Joan, there wouldn’t be Lisa Lampanelli, Sarah Silverman, Kathy Griffin, or even Mindy Kaling and many other less “harsh” comedians. Joan showed us all the way.
There was also another personal element to losing Joan. For years, I watched Joan with my mother. And when I lived away, we used to catch up about the latest red carpet or episode of Fashion Police on the phone. I lost my mother two years ago. But every Saturday, I would watch my DVR’d episode of Fashion Police, and mom would be there with me, laughing and being shocked over what Joan said this week. I like to think that Joan is doing stand up, or having a book signing, or MCing the red carpet for some Saint’s 500th birthday, and my mom is there. And she and Joan get to have a laugh and talk about their daughters. And Joan would be impressed by that wicked sense of humor that my mother too often kept hidden.
I read that Sarah Silverman, on Kimmel the day after Joan’s death, said that despite being 81 years old, Joan wasn’t done yet and had gone too soon. This really resonated with me. I had an episode of Fashion POlice on my DVR that I hadn’t watched yet. I finally watched it the other day, just missing Joan. At the end, the DVR cut off before the end, Joan was mid-word as it stopped. Outloud, I yelled “but she wasn’t done yet,” and tried not to cry.
ethel isn't really my name 