This is not a story about dressing. Its a story about owning the situation.
Inevitably, my two favorite pairs of heels burned through their heel tips. Pure wear and tear, but I do think the manufacturer didn't use the best wear resistant materials. I would be broken hearted if I had to toss them, but fortunately, it's not hard to find a good shoe repair shop.
So after work, I took my shoes to the one I know best. I was 100% drab in my dirty work clothes. A tall blonde woman in a shoemakers apron greeted me. I presented my shoes and told her the problem. "Of course I can fix them. That's why we're here." And she wrote up the work order. At one point she asked me if they had been giving me trouble walking. "Not really" I answered, "But I can tell that the nail has broken all the way through." She told me they would be ready next Monday. I thanked her and left.
Just a boring, mundane exchange. But I like it for exactly that reason. The fact that they were my heels was a secondary fact of the conversation and Not A Big Deal to either of us. The shop is in a part of town where you would expect to see a lot of diversity and she didn't appear the least bit surprised by my very ordinary request. I guess I could have given a lame story about doing this being an errand for my wife, but the shoes are big enough to set off anyone's B.S. meter, so why bother?