Sharper objects came to mind when Joan Rivers showed up at the birthday bash for Page Six pooh-bah Richard Johnsonthrown by Avenue columnist Richard Turley and restaurateur Jimmy Rodriguez. "Don't throw a Magic Marker at me!" I warned Joan, and she laughed and said, "Watch out! Watch out!" Instead, she threw barbs my way, telling me she's not looking forward to Jenny-from-the-block's see-through wedding dress and adding, "I'm Joanie from the ghetto!" Rivers's favorite movie of the year? "The Pianist. Blaine Trump told me, 'It was a very uplifting ending.' Yeah, he lived till 88 and he had no mother, no father, no house, no bed, no dog. Really uplifting!" Compared to Jackass, maybe.
I met a pianistthe segues keep comingat the Gothammagazine party at Cipriani 42nd Street later that night, and he was one of those tousle-haired, cherubic types who are putting a pretty face on classical music, thereby taking away the time-honored chance for uglies to hide behind an instrument. Onstage, famed saxophonist Bill Clinton came out to thank Gotham (and Gotham) and say of the nearby Russell Simmons, "When I grow up, I want to dress the way he does." Scantily clad co-host Heidi Klum then improbably joined him and muttered that "New York is the most exciting city in the world. What else can I say? I can't see anybody." And as Michael Bolton stood by the microphone waiting for his backup tape to start, fashion lady Patricia Field was escorted to the exit, telling me, "I'm being thrown out of here for just holding a pack of cigarettes!" That's just barfy.