It seems wild to me now that I used to wear heels – and I mean high heels – every day. To work, and then out afterwards, 12, 15 hours straight. But at the time it felt entirely normal. The discomfort was one of those daily traumas you become desensitised to, the same way that rush-hour commuters don’t think twice about spending a train ride nose-deep in a stranger’s armpit. Blisters, heel tips bitten off by gratings, the odd sprained ankle, and constant taxi rides I could ill afford were all part of everyday life.

The stiletto’s long reign of terror began losing its hold in the streetwear-obsessed 2010s, and then along came lockdown and the comfort-first revolution. This has been the decade of the loafer and the party flat. My collection of needle-thin, 4-inch-plus Manolos, Louboutins and Choos now live in a display cabinet, the gorgeous but obsolete relics of an ancien régime.

But reports of the death of the heel have been greatly exaggerated. Like social smokers who nick a Vogue at parties, there are lots of women who wouldn’t dream of putting a heel on for a standard office day but are still tempted to dabble now and again, whether for a night out or a board presentation. Heels are a hard habit to shake entirely, because their impact goes way beyond just making your legs look longer. They change your posture, pinning your shoulders back and tipping your chin up. They bring you eye to eye with men, instead of gazing upwards. The click-clack of an approaching heel adds drama to your entrance every time you walk into a room.

Clickety-clack drum roll, please, for the new heel on the block: the dolly shoe. The dolly shoe has a petite heel, but one in a sturdy block shape rather than a precarious kitten. This is transformative on a comfort level, because by spreading your weight over a larger surface area it reduces pressure and increases stability. At the front, it probably looks a bit like a ballerina flat: a round toe, maybe a toe cap, possibly a bow. It is simple, a child’s sketch of a shoe – or like the plastic shoes that dress-up-dolls wear, hence the name.

What this very much is not is a sexy shoe. Which is kind of weird, because sexiness is part of the point of heels, isn’t it? The dolly shoe goes by an alternative name, the Queen Mum shoe, which sums up the level of eroticism involved in this particular aesthetic. In fact, I suspect the arrival on the scene of a heel that isn’t trying to be sexy is significant, because it points to the fact that fashion is thinking about heels again. This is not a heel as Basic Instinct, but a heel as a style statement.

The dolly heel might be two-tone (a hat tip to Chanel) or it might have a bow at the front. (If you want the OG, try searching for a “Ferragamo Vara Pump” on Vinted.) My favourite pair is the Chelsea Block Heel by Kurt Geiger (£169), which has a 6cm heel and a crystal eagle on the toe – mine are glossy red, but it comes in pale pink or gold snake-effect this summer.

The vibes of a dolly shoe are prim and proper, so it works best if you disrupt those with a different energy. If you are wearing a little dress and showing a lot of skin, like in the picture here, the propriety of a closed, rounded toe adds polish and manners. They also look great as a shot of girliness with wide-leg jeans and a T-shirt. In fact, the only pairings to avoid are the too-obvious ones. Do not, in other words, wear them with a pastel knee-length skirt suit, unless “local dignitary at ribbon-cutting ceremony” is on your moodboard.

The dolly shoe is mild rather than wild. Life isn’t flat, and nor should it be – but neither is a constant rollercoaster of vertiginous heels and accompanying scrapes sustainable in the long run. In a dolly heel you can rise to the occasion without losing your footing. Life is a balancing act, but your shoes don’t have to be.

Model: Fu at Milk Management. Hair and make up: Delilah Blakeney using Hair by Sam McKnight and Armani Beauty. Styling assistant: Charlotte Gornall Model: Fu at Milk Management Earrings, £35, Boden. Dress, £160, With Nothing Underneath. Shoes, £199, Pretty Ballerinas