A 23-year-old jewelry designer headed to Mercer Street in 1965 looking for cheap real estate. She set her sights on number 105: "It was in bad shape. There were no windows or windowpanes on the second and third floors. An ugly fire escape hung off the facade. Rats and cats roamed the sidewalk. But I wanted it." And she got the top two floors, for $105/month with a two-year lease. Commence jealousy and urge to time-travel. [ENY]
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