Suzanne Somers. TV’s “Three’s Company” in the ’70s and ’80s. I just received her crate of Suzanne Selects: creams, cleansers, moisturizers, body butter, anti-aging serums, plus a lavender velvet number from her “Swingy Dress” collection. She says:

“My 27th book, ‘A New Way To Age,’ is out January. I’m a child of alcoholics. I was diagnosed with dyslexia. I’ve had therapy. My birthday’s next month. You can’t lie about age. My Malibu house burned down. In an accident, my son was severely injured. I’ve had illness, which forced a change in eating habits. I moved into a home that had black mold.

“So I’ve gathered myself together. Renegotiated. I’ve lectured, been on the Shopping Channel. I’m going retail. I will not be a victim.”

What’s she do with all her money?

“I pack it away.”

Minus even a breath: “I’m married 42 years to Alan Hamel. We’ve never spent one night apart. He makes me feel beautiful. He brings me morning coffee. I wake up to him kissing me. He’s got my back.” (Also, obviously, her front.)

“And every night we have tequila. It’s one hour. One drink. Tequila gives you a slight edge. You get mellow.”

While Suzanne obviously carries on, I was exhausted.

Please pay attention

Re-enacting Judy Garland, Renée Zellweger sang live on the set in front of everyone. She says: “Special experience. Never did that before.”

Amangiri Hotels, created by my Indonesia friend Adrian Zecha and enjoyed by me forever, has accommodated Sirs Elton, McCartney and just housed Justin Bieber at its 600-acre Utah site.

For Anthony Juliano, a Copacabana owner, and Annette’s 50th anniversary, Anthony Wayne from “Tootsie” ran two blocks in drag from one stage to the other. The closing song? “Copacabana (At the Copa).”

Bits & pieces

Jeff Lima of “Chicago Fire” gave a $10,000 scholarship to a film student at NYU’s Tisch School.

Schwarzenegger and ex-wrestler “Wildman” Jack Armstrong working out in Venice Beach, Calif. The gym’s in parking lot property owned by Google.

Barbara Kavovit, a rumored maybe-not-anymore Real Housewife of New York, hosted an event at the James hotel. She celebrates Bedside Reading. They put books in hotels. Pajamas are optional.

Emmy daze

Many don’t know many the Emmys celebrated. They don’t watch, can’t remember, maybe sampled an episode, not a whole series or, basically, whothehellcares. While it was on, I was in a restaurant that was jammed. So, who what when where do the Emmys rep? The whole show’s like So What?

Roadblock

Monday, 7 p.m. Trump Tower tenants were in temporary lockdown while the D in DJT stood for Daddy. Iran, Korea, Russia can shove it. President of the United States of America, commander-in-chief of the armed forces, leader of the free world, most important dude on this planet, was having private dinner with his entire kith and kin — his sons, daughters and in-house temporary whatevers.

But. Oy! With the UN in session, DJT in residence, even those born in Midtown can’t get there. Understand, I’m not moving to Oklahoma, where the corn and the locals can get as high an elephant’s eye. But it’s waiting for hours, detouring 20 blocks out of the way, streets blocked off with embassy cars from countries where the local vehicle’s an ox.

I’m only saying, politely — s–t.

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Richie Ornstein saw this sign on a tow truck: “We meet by accident.”

Only in New York, kids, only in New York.