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Zara Rabinowicz Writes...

I am a big shoe fan (duh) and love everything from stilettos to sneakers though I do have penchant for particularly sky high heels. The problem is I’m a pain phobic and while I’m happy to suffer for my shoes it would be nice to be able to walk the next day.

Enter the dream shoe: My Dolcis Kitten heels. They were bought five years ago in a sale, for approx £15 and have sustained me through the years. The heel is approx 2.5 inches, and rather than being pointy and narrow is the elusive slender curve that means I can walk for hours in them and not get sore. The lining is a metallic purple made out of a plastic print that adheres to my soles so I don’t need to worry about sliding and the cut on the toe shows just enough, without delving to desperately into toe cleavage. They make me taller, enhance my outfits and are a dream to walk in. Unfortunately they’re also really really battered. I’m talking binnable, not just boho charity shop. But I just can’t give them up!

The inner lining once so perkily purple is faded and peeling, and I’m told ‘ungluable’, the heels sides are so scuffed it looks like they belong to Beckham (the early years) and the material part is frayed and again ‘unrepearable’. And this is not just one store that has told me that; I have dragged them from disreputable Turkish shop to High Street Kensington in hope of a solution and alas, there is none to be had. This is almost as bad as when one of my beloved Steve Madden heels broke and I had to chuck it straight.

But they’re noticeably tatty. My silhouette may still look great with them on, but on close inspection I have bag lady chic and not in a good way. They’ve been with me on the beaches of Ibiza, the cliffs of Marseilles(long story) and the luxury of Beverly Hills. Most of my prized pictures (the ones where I look thin and tanned) have me wearing them, and to throw them out just seems intrinsically wrong.

Get a grip, I tell myself, they’re just black mules, but I can’t. I’ve searched in vain for a replacement and trawled the stores but the heels are all wrong or the cut is to high, and what’s with platforms, I’m 5’5 and I already have enough trouble finding tall men (me + 4 inches is the rule).

In the end I’ve relegated them to the back of my wardrobe and replaced them with newer shinier models, but sometimes I still sneak them out (if it’s dark and no one can tell) and relax in their worn comfort bliss.

Zara Rabinowicz writes for Shiny Shiny, Star Trip, The Baglady and Dollymix and owns far to many pairs of shoes she doesn't wear.