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ZULA MELUP                                        
105 EAST 63RD STREET    NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10021  (212) 838-5310

July 6, 1990

Mr. Jack Lenor Larsen 
34 East 10th Street
New York, New York 10003

Dear Jack:

I cannot tell you how very sorry I was to have missed you by minutes at Charles Stern's party. I was tied up at a meeting with some clients. I have temporarily departed from my beloved Italian kitchens and am doing an Italian office for three young financial wizzez on Park Avenue. Great fun. My sister always tells me that all the apartments I do look like offices, including mine, so my new project is most appropriate. 

I had so much looked forward last summer of going with you to the U.S.S.R., where I still have some family. What happened was that I was redoing my sister's apartment from scratch--fortunately she has been in Vienna with the U.N. since last June, otherwise she would be killed me--hates change.

My sister has our family 6-room apartment on West End Avenue which we had since we came here during the war. Since the flat is on the top floor, the ceilings have been decimated over the 90 years this building has been up due to roof leaks. When I started the renovation, the super assured me that the roof had been fixed. Famous last words.

After I spent thousands restoring the ceilings to their original state, there was a tropical downpour in early August--just after I finished cleaning up after the renovation--and the water was literally pouring down the ceilings in three rooms. Fortunately I was there at the time. The landlady was away, so I had to babysit the ceilings until the roof was finally fixed in the middle of September. Then I had to wait till December for the bloody ceilings to dry, to be redone again.

A summer festival it was not. That was the reason you did not hear from me. I was churning around in helpless rage and frustration. 

I had told you that I had bought a condo at 100 U.N. Plaza last May. I moved there lock, stock and barrel in early June, and stayed for one month. Then I decided that it was too rich for my blood, with all the concierges, doomen [[doormen]], and elevatormen waltzing around. I had not given up 63rd Street and moved back here. No furniture, since I had taken everything to the new pad. Just wall-to-wall cartons for many, many months. Sublet the condo to nice Japanese and decided to may be spend the winters in Buenos Aires, barring a major revolution. My sister, who was there last year, tells me I would love this city.