What Becomes of the Broken-Heeled?

On Valentine’s Day…

Any girl can tell you it’s dangerous out here. We fall, but with a little help from our friends, we get up, brush ourselves off, and fix our broken heels.

The shoe designer Nancy Kim happens to live in my neighborhood, and when I sent her a picture of the damage to my A.P.C. boots from a date a couple of weeks ago, she prescribed a visit to the shoe repair shop on Graham Avenue, just north of Grand Street. (I think it’s called Arthur’s–the photos of it were lost with my old phone on Wednesday.) $27 and 24 hours later, my broken heel was as good as new, both boots were protected with tough Vibram soles and the worst scuffs had been brushed away.

Today I’m wearing them with chili-colored tights and hopping between melting slush-puddles on my way to the fashion shows. I suppose they might break again, but after that last spill, they seem a little bit stronger.