In her book “Primates of Park Avenue,” out Tuesday, New York writer Wednesday Martin sensationally reveals the trend for bankers’ wives to receive so-called “wife bonuses” — a percentage of their husband’s company bonus in return for managing the household and supporting him in his career. Meet Polly Phillips, 32, who gets a five-figure sum every year from her petroleum engineer spouse for being a stay-at-home mom. While she refuses to divulge exact figures, Houston-based headhunter Mike Vineyard estimates her husband’s bonus could be as much as $150,000 a year. Here, Phillips proudly explains how she spends the money — and how the cash payment makes her more, not less, of a feminist than ever.

As I stroll around the mall on a recent trip to Houston, Texas, moving from designer store to designer store, my mind is crunching numbers. Will I splurge on the elegant $750 French navy Chanel ballet pumps that I’ve been lusting after for months? Or shall I be pulling out my gold card to grab a pair of limited-edition $800 Louboutins, with striking red Valentine’s hearts on the toe, to match their distinctive sole?

As I tally up the total, I can’t help but smile — I can easily stretch to both pairs of shoes, and still have plenty left of my five-figure bonus.

These pricey pairs of designer footwear will join a lineup of Jimmy Choo, Manolo Blahnik, Diane Von Furstenburg and Rupert Sanderson heels and a closet crammed with handbags from Prada, Chanel and Anya Hindmarch. Every single one was bought with one of my annual bonuses — the nod from a happy boss for a job well done.

But, in this case, the boss in question is my husband, Al. The role he’s rewarding me for is my work as a stay-at-home wife and mother. And the luxury labels are purchased with the “wife bonus” — 20 percent of his own company bonus — that I’m proud to receive for putting his career before my own, and keeping our lives together.

After all, he readily admits that, without me staying at home with our 19-month-old daughter, Lala — not to mention the support and understanding I offer when his work intrudes on our home life — he couldn’t do his job. And he also knows that if we hadn’t followed his career abroad, I might still be doing very well in my own.

Al works for a major US oil company. When we met through friends in London in our native England in October 2006, I realized there was a chance that I might have to make sacrifices to follow him and his job around the globe. I didn’t give it too much thought to begin with, as we were too busy having fun. His job as an engineer, and mine as a political risks insurance broker, meant that we both had a disposable income to enjoy. We traveled widely, visiting cities like New York and Miami, and skiing in Europe.

He’s always been very generous, but I insisted we split everything down the middle. And when it came to bonus time, we loved to splash out — on ourselves and each other. I would think nothing of buying a Burberry raincoat or a handbag from Mulberry after I got paid.

We got engaged in January 2009 after a fairytale Christmas trip to New York, where, unbeknownst to me, my husband had sneaked off to Tiffany & Co. on his own and bought a $7,000 engagement ring.

I agreed on the spot but, as we were planning our wedding 16 months later, he was given a promotion that meant spending every other month in Houston — indefinitely.

I carried on working in London, although we both knew that living in the same city was something that we wanted for our marriage. In September 2011, just over a year after our wedding, when an opportunity arose for Al to take a job in Perth, Australia, we leapt at the chance.

For me, it was a simple choice. We both knew that we wanted to start a family soon after we married. It didn’t make sense to ask Al to put my career before his when he was going to have to be the main earner as soon as we had children.

In Australia, I met a lot of women — and some men — who had sacrificed their own careers to follow their partners around the world. That’s where I first heard about the concept of a “wife bonus” or “bonus gift.”

One friend proudly showed me her collection of Mulberry purses, bought at her behest come bonus time. Another liked to splurge at Tory Burch at the end of the financial year. But bonus gifts, just like the women who receive them, could be very different.

One girl, who couldn’t care less about designer goods, chose a stand-up paddle board as her reward for supporting her husband while he worked the late nights and the early mornings that the oil industry is known for.

While I appreciated the idea of a gift come bonus time, I didn’t feel that my husband bestowing something on me really represented the joint partnership we’d built up together. To me, giving a gift simply reinforced the fact that Al was the one receiving the bonus, whereas giving me a set proportion truly recognized how integral my effort was to his success.

Al came out in favor of the idea of the wife bonus almost as soon as we moved to Australia. He’s got a very politically incorrect sense of humor and joked it was to reward me for being a “good little wife,” which made me laugh out loud. Seriously, though, we settled on the exact terms: When he received his bonus every year at the end of April, we’d each take a fifth after tax and bank the rest.

I’m exceptionally lucky to have a husband who values how important a job it is to stay home and take care of a child, as well as understanding how difficult it is to leave friends, family and career prospects behind to further his career. He was actually pleased to have a tangible way to recognize the contribution that I also make to the success of our lives.

The wife bonus gives me not only financial freedom, but freedom from guilt too. We have a joint account, and before we started the system, I was reluctant to spend our money on myself, even though my husband insisted he was happy for me to. Now that I have a quantifiable amount to treat myself with, I don’t feel guilty doing so.

The five-figure amount has pretty much stayed the same despite the economy. Last year, I bought a Prada handbag and Burberry raincoat for about $1,500 each. I tend to wait until I’m back home in London to spend my bonus because I can leave Lala with a member of the family and go on a week-long splurge to upscale stores like Selfridges. My favorite labels include Bottega Veneta, Chanel, Prada, Smythson, Erdem and Stella McCartney.

That’s not to say I’m just frittering my bonus away. I also try to save my share for things that matter. My mother passed away shortly before we married, and I used some of the money she left me to buy my bespoke $4,500 wedding dress by the designer Naomi Neoh. I’d like the honor of being able to buy Lala her wedding dress with the money I’ve saved too.

We moved to Copenhagen, Denmark, shortly after our daughter was born in October 2013. From talking to women I know here, it seems that the idea of a wife bonus or bonus gift really is global. It’s just that, for some reason, many of them are ashamed to talk about it.

A wonderful Californian friend is so worried that her acquaintances might judge her for the shoes, bags and jewelry her other half gifts her from his bonus, she keeps them hidden in their boxes.

Meanwhile, the husband of another woman goes out solo to buy her bonus gift — without her ever having a say in what it is. I’m sure there are many other women who think nothing of asking their significant other to splash out and treat them to a fancy meal or a vacation after they’ve received a bonus.

Somehow being given an expensive gift by your husband for your birthday or your anniversary is seen as socially acceptable, but receiving a share of his annual bonus isn’t. Women are happy to access a joint account freely but somehow find sharing a bonus, which is surely the natural extension of this, offensive.

Since Wednesday Martin wrote about the “wife bonus” in her book “Primates of Park Avenue” and I’ve confessed to receiving payment for the wifely services rendered, I’ve been surprised and disappointed by the reaction I’ve received from other women.

Many of them have sniggered, assuming that my bonus is bedroom dependent, or have accused me of betraying feminism and living in the ’50s like a desperate housewife.

To me, there can be nothing more feminist than believing that staying home to take care of our daughter — as well as the day-to-day washing, ironing, cooking and cleaning — is just as worthy of a wage as going out to a job outside the home.

And to put those (dirty) minds at rest — the size of my bonus has nothing to do with my performance in the kitchen or the bedroom. It’s entirely dependent on how my husband does at work, and how well his company performs.

Which means, judging by the price of oil at the moment, my critics might be pleased to hear that next year, I might not get much of a wife bonus at all.

I ended up buying the Chanel ballet pumps and Louboutin heels not at the Houston mall, but online because it was more convenient. I love wearing them and really feel like I’ve earned the right to own them. Meanwhile, oil prices aside, I can’t help dreaming about what I might be able to afford with my 2016 bonus. Might it be the ultimate in wife bonus purchases — a Birkin bag? I’d absolutely kill for a $15,000 starter model in taupe.