Ashley ElleCostumes, live mics, refueling jets mid-air, a dress sewn from Carnegie Music Hall seats, and the slow-burn life Daisy Jade has built in Pittsburgh.
On a studio morning, Daisy Jade is easing into Pittsburgh Today Live with the calm of someone who’s already imagined ten things that could go wrong – and rehearsed how to make them charming when they do. A producer is in her ear. A chef is plating something stickier than expected. There’s a clock counting down. Somewhere off-camera a voice is saying, “thirty seconds…wrap, wrap, wrap.” This is the lane she chose: not the safety of takes and retakes, but the thrill of one take, full stop.
It wasn’t always like this. She started on the CW side of KDKA (back when the station still owned the CW affiliate) doing street-level hype for Supergirl and The Flash, emceeing at Comic-Con, and, crucially, leaning into a thing that felt small at the time: costumes. She’d show up as Supergirl to ride at Kennywood, or suit up as Batwoman to boost a community event. “I’m theatrical,” she says, not as an apology but as a thesis. Wardrobe isn’t decoration; it’s a way to meet audiences where they already live – comics, sports, nostalgia – and invite them in.
That instinct turned into a web show called The CW Buzz. It was quick hits about premieres, contests, whatever the station had cooking next. Then – like everyone – she hit the wall named 2020. Production shut down. She kept going from home anyway: writing, shooting, editing, producing, cutting her own graphics, posting the finished segments. DIY TV with nothing but willpower and a laptop.
The tapes didn’t look glossy; they looked alive. Management noticed.
“We need to do something with Daisy,” was the phrase that got passed around. Brainstorming began. If the city had no live sports, the people still had stories – fan caves, tattoos, cross-ocean shrines to Pittsburgh teams – so the station paired Daisy with sports anchor Richie Walsh and built a show around the culture of fandom. Fan N’ATion wasn’t about the box score; it was about the believers.
Soon Daisy was FaceTiming bar owners in Rome who stream Steelers games at 2 a.m., talking to a Penguins obsessive in Kuwait, and filming with a North Side legend who converted her basement into a glittering “diva den.” She met “Terrible Bra Lady,” “Steeler Jesus,” and the rest of the city’s unofficial cast list – people who turn a team into a tribe. “They’re family now,” she says.
When Pittsburgh Today Live came calling, Daisy initially said no. “I’m not a newscaster,” she told them. She’d never had a communications voice living in her head, never had to cook and talk and transition and read off the same breath. She cried after early shows. Then PTL cameraman, Jeff Roupe, said the one thing that punctured the panic: “We’re not doing life-saving surgery. It’s three minutes: entertain, communicate, move on.” The job didn’t change. Her perspective did. “Once you accept it’s onto the next segment, it clicks.”
Preparation is her armor. She rewrites teleprompter copy so it sounds like her, researches obsessively, and keeps a running mental file on every guest. The trick, she says, is to forget the camera and honor the conversation while your brain quietly surfaces the detail that proves you did your homework. When a guest walks away saying, “You made that easy,” she considers it the highest compliment.
There are off-camera rules too: don’t swear within fifty feet of a live mic; don’t let social-media strangers define your day. “Some days they love you, some days they ask why you exist,” she says, shrugging. “I prep. I show up. I keep it kind.”
For Daisy, structure and style aren’t opposites – they feed each other. Fashion isn’t something she squeezes in around assignments; it’s threaded through the work. If she’s profiling a 1950s diner, she wears a 50s look. If it’s a speakeasy, she’ll go Gatsby. For charity galas, she raids her costume closet or collaborates with Pittsburgh designers. “Why not dress for the story you’re telling?” she says.
For theCITYSCENE’s Fall 2025 cover (in which this article first appeared), Daisy wears a custom gown by Brian David, crafted from the salvaged red velvet seats of Carnegie Music Hall. “I’m literally wearing Pittsburgh,” she beams.
The fabric carries decades of history, transformed into a silhouette that channels old Hollywood glamour. Paired with borrowed diamonds from Diamonds by Rothschild, the look balances high fashion with local soul. “So many people sat in that velvet before me,” she laughs, “and now it gets a second life in fashion shows and on a magazine cover!”
Long before live TV and couture gowns, Daisy was already playing host. In 1994, after being mesmerized by WrestleMania X, she and a friend launched their own homemade teen talk show called The Wrestler’s Edge. What began as fan chatter turned into her first taste of broadcasting, fueled by a passion for the larger-than-life world of pro wrestling – a passion that’s never left her. The connection is fitting: Daisy understands the power of spectacle, the way an entrance, a costume, or a prop can make an audience lean in. Wrestling taught her early what she now lives on set: presentation is part of the story.
Ask Daisy about her strangest assignment and she’ll tell you about lying on her stomach inside a military tanker aircraft with the 171st Air Refueling Wing, watching a jet dock midair to refuel. She gets motion sickness. She’s afraid of flying. And she still did it. “I told myself: ‘suck it up, buttercup’ and it ended up being one of the most exhilarating things I’ve ever done.”
Other days, it’s smaller thrills: interviewing local sports heroes. Discovering new Pittsburgh businesses. Hosting local galas where she’s part cheerleader, part emcee. Or finding herself nominated for a Mid-Atlantic Emmy because she told the story of a grieving teenager who turned loss into music.
Her career is proof that Pittsburgh creatives don’t have to pick one lane. She’s done national commercials, indie films, Tyler Perry’s assistant work, casting gigs, event planning, emceeing charity galas. She’s even been a reenactment actor for a crime show. “It’s never the straight path you imagine,” she says. “But the detours are always where the good stuff happens. Being open to those detours is really the key.”
Her career isn’t the only thing that unfolded slowly. Daisy met her husband Perry at a South Side club, Diesel (now Avalon), where he stood aloof in a suit, looking more like a European club owner than a Yinzer. They dated for years before marrying in San Diego – where it rained, improbably, before the sun broke through dramatically just in time for their vows. Later, they hosted a Pittsburgh reception at the location they first met. “His 90-year-old grandmother was dancing in the club that night,” Daisy recalls. “It was perfect and perfectly us.” Her love story, like her career, is stitched together with patience, resilience, and a willingness to embrace the unpredictable.
It’s tempting to call her a local celebrity, but that undersells it. What makes Daisy Jade compelling isn’t just the costumes, or the gowns, or the ability to glide between Comic-Con and couture. It’s her insistence that local stories matter. That Pittsburgh is worth celebrating. That fashion and sports, grief and glamour, fun and seriousness can all sit in the same segment.
She’s proof that local media can be joyful, stylish, and rooted in community. That fashion and fandom belong on the same screen. And that Pittsburgh doesn’t need to export its talent to matter. “I want people to feel included. I want them to feel seen. And I think local media is integral to that.” That’s Daisy Jade. Not just Pittsburgh’s host, but its hype woman. And in a city that thrives on authenticity, that may be the most glamorous role of all.
Follow along with Daisy on Instagram: @daisyjadetv
