A letter to the NY Post reads in part: “I have a Cindy doll that was given to me when I was a child. Somehow through various moves, the shoes are missing. Any chance she has an extra pair to complete this beautiful doll? Thank you for showing her this letter.” Signed Susan.

This note triggered an odyssey, bouncing from editor to editor-in-chief to me. In the ’60s, before Biden’s first dribble, the Horsman Doll Co. created look-alikes of the most famous, talked about or most whoknowswhat VIPs. The company picked them — the people did not. How I became one of that tribe, who knows.

The Cindy dolls in my red, white and black colors, sandal shoes and dark hair looked better than I did. The no longer company was sold to a foreign manufacturer. I still own three such dolls. All have shoes.

So, Susan: Find a store that sells dolls. Buy one wearing black shoes. Go home. Lose the doll. Keep the shoes. Then glue them onto Cindy’s feet. Tell us the doll’s cost and I will personally immediately reimburse you. I can hardly sleep knowing my look-alike’s shoeless.

Other ways: The Internet can find doll hospitals, used dolls, places that sell old dolls and salable parts. Even a neighborhood shoemaker could put black leather strips together.

Also in the ’60s Ralph Destino, then Cartier’s longtime president, did a display of gold jewelry designed by me. If Susan wants anything from Cartier, I’m not reimbursing her.

Another rapper in the crapper. Busta Rhymes. Being sued by his ex-personal assistant, who earned $200 a day, claims he was yelled at, smacked in his head. Says Busta busted his chops, forced him to run red lights, claims he’s blacklisted in the hip-hop industry, now wants back in, plus a few quid cash. Busta says it’s all false and a shakedown.

Oscar winner Dustin — is there another Dustin? — just turned 88. He says: “I wanted to be a jazz pianist — but wasn’t good enough. Went to Santa Monica City College because I lacked the credits for any university. Acting was the only way to get credits. A friend said acting was like gym — nobody fails you.”

Coming up is “Entitled: The Rise and Fall of the House of York” the first of 9 million Epstein books. Supposedly exposes Clinton, Prince Andrew and a partridge in a pear tree. Brit author’s Andrew Lownie. It’s HarperCollins. Everyone’s in it.

Alleging Andrew and Clinton shared the same mistress he relies on “exclusive” open Palm Beach throats. Listen, Palm Beach throats don’t shut even to chew steak. He’s even got a press agent making the rounds, asking for whoever wants to interview him.

A jeweler was approached by a fund-raiser for a “worthy cause.” Jeweler: “My brother supports six children. My elderly sister hasn’t worked in 30 years. My uncle’s on relief. My father has no food. You call all that a worthy cause?” Said the fund-raiser: “Of course.” Jeweler: “Well, I don’t do a damn thing for these people. Why should I do something for you?”

For sure only in New York, kids, only in New York.