THE sleek limousine drew to a halt and out stepped Grace Mugabe, wife of the Zimbabwean dictator. After a distracting morning of official engagements in Paris she was eager to get back to what she enjoys best: conspicuous consumption.

She had come to the right place. The Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré is not only where President Jacques Chirac and the British and French ambassadors live, but some of the grandest names in fashion.

For a woman with an Imelda Marcos-like reputation for profligacy, it was an opportunity too good to miss. With an entourage of bodyguards and female companions, she headed straight for Salvatore Ferragamo, the Italian clothes, shoe and handbag designer, where she was ushered into a glass lift.

On the second floor the shoes were arrayed on shelves like brightly coloured gems, and Grace, a tall 38-year-old in a violet dress and dark overcoat, quickly settled on a dark blue pair she wanted to try on.

“Oh I really like these,” she purred. When told moments later that they were not available in her size, 8Å, a cloud settled over her features and those of her female companions.

It is, perhaps, the moment that her Zimbabwean associates fear most, for Grace, a former secretary to Mugabe who married him after the death of his first wife, Sally, in 1996, is as used to getting her way as he is.

The shop assistant, however, had not yet recognised this customer. “Do you live here?” she inquired. “We’ll be able to get you a pair in your size.”

Grace considered this for a moment. “Send me the reference numbers for all of these,” she said, taking in the entire stock with an imperious wave of her hand.

When Grace was back in the lift, the shop assistant gave a Parisian shrug: “We had another African leader’s wife in here yesterday who bought a lot of shoes in that size. That’s why we don’t have any left.”

The African leaders had descended on Paris for a summit meeting with Chirac, who had run roughshod over British objections to the presence in Europe of the Mugabes.

While their countrymen faced ruination, hunger and despair, the couple had taken up residence in a luxury hotel on the Avenue Montaigne, another shoppers’ paradise not far from the Champs Elysées.

Outside were protesters, including Peter Tatchell, the British gay rights activist, who hoped for an opportunity to carry out a “citizen’s arrest” on Mugabe for his alleged involvement in torture. Yet nothing was going to get in the way of Grace’s fun and the protesters were promptly arrested.

Even in a city used to displays of opulence, Grace’s shopping expeditions have gone down in legend. It is rumoured that the hiring of a special plane was required to take home her last haul from Paris. Today she has her own DC-9, known as Big Bunny because it was once owned by Playboy’s Hugh Hefner.

Last week she was determined, it seemed, to do better. On Wednesday afternoon, not long after her arrival in Paris, her bodyguards returned to the hotel festooned with designer shopping bags.

The next morning Grace joined other African first ladies for a tour of a Modigliani exhibition before a truffle-flavoured lunch at the Marigny Palace next to the Elysée. With these onerous obligations out of the way, she was free to indulge a passion for footwear, perfume and haute couture.

Grace is no stranger to the havens of chic dotting the grands boulevards of Paris. Shortly after marrying Mugabe she persuaded him to appoint Joseph Bimha, one of her cousins, as ambassador to the city of light. His functions since then have often involved escorting her about town.

After disappointment on the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, Grace went off in search of solace at Chanel. Alighting on the pavement, however, she noticed a photographer and me trying to chronicle her movements. “Why is there this interest in my shopping?” she shouted.

I tried to introduce myself and asked for an interview. She halted, peered scornfully at my outstretched hand, and replied: “I will not shake your hand.”

She went on: “Is it a crime to go shopping? These shops are here for people to shop in. I don’t have the money they say I have, you know.”

One of her female retinue urged the photographer to stop taking pictures: “Do you not know this is the wife of a head of state?” The group climbed back into the car and was gone.

On Friday the expedition continued, however, with stops at Escada, a parfumerie, at Paul Smith, the British clothes designer, and at Mikimoto, the pearl jeweller.

Proprietors were reluctant to discuss the expenditure of their customers. But if Mugabe is banned from further visits to Europe, Grace will no doubt have outfits, scent and baubles enough to survive even the strictest embargo.

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