Marni on Sloane Street always looks so inviting. Clothes dangle from transparent hangers the size of dinosaur bones and look as if they already belong to someone who might chuck them on the floor. Christian Louboutin, on the other hand, has all the allure of a fusty private members’ club. This must be why I have never been in there. In the one shop I must have spent – oh, help – pounds 6,000 or more over the past two years. In the other, not a sou.

I don’t mind how much I pay for designer schmutter, provided that I can do it in a nightclub-like setting or in one of those new-ish, dimly lit “boutiques”. Proper displays, attentive service, good lighting mean only one thing: stuffy gear, scary prices and even scarier service. Christian Louboutin Deva – Black.

“You’ll look like an old trout!” says my friend Nikki as we cruise down Fulham Road towards South Kensington, heading for Christian Louboutin’s maverick outlet in Brompton Cross. As we speak, we pass Plum Sykes, the New York It Girl, looking fabulous in a belted leather coat over wide-leg trousers.

Lined in cream boucle, Christian Louboutin’s shop, designed by Peter Merino, is literally transparent. If anything horrible were going on inside – any bullying of badly dressed customers,christian shoes, for instance – you would see from the street.

Not that the cost of a suit is prohibitive. Nikki and I have stopped listening to Monica, because we are rampaging around the store shouting out the incredibly “reasonable” prices to each other.

“Just pounds 200 for these black satin evening Christian Louboutin Shoes! I paid pounds 150 on the high street!”

“Only pounds 2,000 for this jacket with a frayed trim and matching skirt. And it’s weighted with an invisible chain!” And so on.