On Betty Halbreich's desk at Bergdorf Goodman are a number of mementos she's held on to during her 37 years there as a personal shopper: a photo of Isaac Mizrahi with Halbreich's daughter Kathy; a pincushion given to Halbreich by the costume designer William Ivey Long, whom Halbreich helped on a number of Broadway shows. Also a chocolate gun in a plastic box that was sent over a year or two ago by her close friend and client Joan Rivers.
"I was feeling bad one day and she gave it to me," Halbreich said. "She said, 'Don't shoot it, eat it.'"
It was Thursday night just before 7, and New York Fashion Week was kicking off with a book party to celebrate Halbreich's memoir, I'll Drink to That. Rivers had been listed as the party's host - along with the designer Michael Kors - on invitations that came with a tiny bottle of Belvedere vodka, Halbreich's favourite tipple.
The two women had a friendship that spanned almost 30 years, not just in the dressing rooms on the third floor of Bergdorf Goodman, but also on the phone, at Rivers's famous dinner parties and during holidays. They had much in common, even if Rivers, who had died earlier that afternoon, was considerably better known.
Both were brassy, independent women in the big city. Both had marriages that ended terribly. (Rivers's husband, Edgar Rosenberg, killed himself in 1987; Halbreich attempted suicide when her marriage to Sonny Halbreich fell apart.) And in the end, both turned out to be resilient about matters big and small. "They threw eggs on Joan's fur coat," said Halbreich, 86. "She went right out and bought another one."
So it made sense that the book party at Bergdorf's wound up being something of a wake for Rivers as well as a celebration of Halbreich, though it was unclear until late Thursday afternoon if the party would go on as scheduled. (Kors did not attend.)
In recent years, Halbreich has achieved her own kind of fame, offering fashion commentary on the Today show and appearing in last year's documentary, Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's. (Lena Dunham, another party attendee, has begun developing an HBO series loosely based on Halbreich's life.)
Ruven Afanador, a fashion photographer, and Edward Bess, the owner of his own cosmetics line, sat in a pair of nearby chairs. Richard Lambertson, of the handbag brand Lambertson Truex, stood off to the side, pressed against the wall.
"My mother shook Joan's hand once and said 'What a beautiful ring,' " Lambertson said. "It was a big rock, and Joan took it off and said, 'Take it.' I said to my mother, 'You can't.' She said, 'Sure I can.' "
A public-relations person walked in - it was time to greet the guests outside.
Halbreich took a sip of vodka and adjusted the customised black Libertine shirt she was wearing. It was adorned with metallic beads. On the front they spelled out Halbreich's initials. On the back were the words "Hi! Buy!"
"Isn't it great?" she said, before walking out her door, and into the Prada section of the store, which was teeming with fashion world fixtures like Thelma Golden, the director of the Studio Museum of Harlem, and Aerin Lauder.
It didn't take a genius to spot another similarity between Halbreich and Rivers: Both are completely without filter.
One of the first guests to come up to Halbreich was Mizrahi. Halbreich gave him a kiss and grabbed his waist. "Somebody's been keeping you well fed," she said. Then came Dunham, sporting a peroxide blond haircut along with a houndstooth Michael Kors jacket and chunky black platform shoes that recalled an earlier John Fluevog era.
"You look beautiful," Dunham said.
"You look different," Halbreich replied.
"I'm so sorry," said Dunham, referring to Rivers.
By now, a half-dozen photographers were snapping away while a crowd of nearly 100 stood in line at a nearby table, waiting to have their books signed.
All told, it took about an hour to get through the line, in part because reporters kept approaching with questions about Halbreich's friendship with Rivers.
One worked for a website called Glam.com and identified herself simply as Angel.
"Blessed are you," Halbreich said. "We had a very close, honest relationship. It was not always about clothes. It was about people. Human beings."
One reporter asked about Rivers's taste in clothes. "She liked everything cut tight so she looked tall and thin," Halbreich said. "She could barely walk in any of it." Then, this spry octogenarian established another connection to Rivers: both considered retirement tantamount to death.
"I'll be here tomorrow morning," she said, looking out past the thinning crowd and toward the sea of racks filled with new fall clothes for her to sell.
"I was feeling bad one day and she gave it to me," Halbreich said. "She said, 'Don't shoot it, eat it.'"
It was Thursday night just before 7, and New York Fashion Week was kicking off with a book party to celebrate Halbreich's memoir, I'll Drink to That. Rivers had been listed as the party's host - along with the designer Michael Kors - on invitations that came with a tiny bottle of Belvedere vodka, Halbreich's favourite tipple.
The two women had a friendship that spanned almost 30 years, not just in the dressing rooms on the third floor of Bergdorf Goodman, but also on the phone, at Rivers's famous dinner parties and during holidays. They had much in common, even if Rivers, who had died earlier that afternoon, was considerably better known.
Both were brassy, independent women in the big city. Both had marriages that ended terribly. (Rivers's husband, Edgar Rosenberg, killed himself in 1987; Halbreich attempted suicide when her marriage to Sonny Halbreich fell apart.) And in the end, both turned out to be resilient about matters big and small. "They threw eggs on Joan's fur coat," said Halbreich, 86. "She went right out and bought another one."
So it made sense that the book party at Bergdorf's wound up being something of a wake for Rivers as well as a celebration of Halbreich, though it was unclear until late Thursday afternoon if the party would go on as scheduled. (Kors did not attend.)
In recent years, Halbreich has achieved her own kind of fame, offering fashion commentary on the Today show and appearing in last year's documentary, Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's. (Lena Dunham, another party attendee, has begun developing an HBO series loosely based on Halbreich's life.)
Ruven Afanador, a fashion photographer, and Edward Bess, the owner of his own cosmetics line, sat in a pair of nearby chairs. Richard Lambertson, of the handbag brand Lambertson Truex, stood off to the side, pressed against the wall.
"My mother shook Joan's hand once and said 'What a beautiful ring,' " Lambertson said. "It was a big rock, and Joan took it off and said, 'Take it.' I said to my mother, 'You can't.' She said, 'Sure I can.' "
A public-relations person walked in - it was time to greet the guests outside.
Halbreich took a sip of vodka and adjusted the customised black Libertine shirt she was wearing. It was adorned with metallic beads. On the front they spelled out Halbreich's initials. On the back were the words "Hi! Buy!"
"Isn't it great?" she said, before walking out her door, and into the Prada section of the store, which was teeming with fashion world fixtures like Thelma Golden, the director of the Studio Museum of Harlem, and Aerin Lauder.
It didn't take a genius to spot another similarity between Halbreich and Rivers: Both are completely without filter.
One of the first guests to come up to Halbreich was Mizrahi. Halbreich gave him a kiss and grabbed his waist. "Somebody's been keeping you well fed," she said. Then came Dunham, sporting a peroxide blond haircut along with a houndstooth Michael Kors jacket and chunky black platform shoes that recalled an earlier John Fluevog era.
"You look beautiful," Dunham said.
"You look different," Halbreich replied.
"I'm so sorry," said Dunham, referring to Rivers.
By now, a half-dozen photographers were snapping away while a crowd of nearly 100 stood in line at a nearby table, waiting to have their books signed.
All told, it took about an hour to get through the line, in part because reporters kept approaching with questions about Halbreich's friendship with Rivers.
One worked for a website called Glam.com and identified herself simply as Angel.
"Blessed are you," Halbreich said. "We had a very close, honest relationship. It was not always about clothes. It was about people. Human beings."
One reporter asked about Rivers's taste in clothes. "She liked everything cut tight so she looked tall and thin," Halbreich said. "She could barely walk in any of it." Then, this spry octogenarian established another connection to Rivers: both considered retirement tantamount to death.
"I'll be here tomorrow morning," she said, looking out past the thinning crowd and toward the sea of racks filled with new fall clothes for her to sell.
© 2014 The New York Times